Behind every great daughter is a truly amazing dad.
Today is a very special Visual Soliloquy. 1234. At one point, I thought I would stop doing them at this number. But I won’t. I’m still enjoying doing them too much to stop.
Instead, to celebrate this day, this number, and this moment, I will remember my dad. It’s snowing out. A storm. My dad died on a day like this. At 12:34. 12:34 being this odometer moment loving human’s favourite time of day. 12:34 is when I summited Mount Vinson, the highest peak in Antarctica I set the alarm on my watch so that I don’t miss the midday version. Each day, I stop and pause at 12:34 and remember my dad my hero, my everything. Whenever I see the sequence of numbers 1, 2, 3, 4 whether on my watch, a scoreboard, or computer program, I say, “Hi Dad” and have a little chat with him. I ask him for advice or to watch over me as I head out to climbs. He doesn’t answer back but I know here is there.
He’s there in my appreciation of blue bird skies. He’s there when I know how to fix the plumbing under the sink. He’s there when I use a chain saw with confidence or a power drill with flair. He’s there when I lift heavy things or when I climb ladders way up high. He’s there when I’m sad or when life makes me sigh. He’s there when I repeat the same expressions he used. He’s there when I’m scared and need to be reminded that I can do it because that what he did…over and over again-he reminded me I could do it. Whatever it is. So here’s to you dad, my greatest mentor, teacher, father, co-adventurer, and cheerleader. I’ll raise a Storm Beer toast to you tonight as I celebrate Visual Soliloquy #1234 and all that you and that number mean to me.
When my father didn’t have my hand…he had my back.