Passion Determination and The Will To Run
The Deepest Part of My Running Heart--Running For HIM
October 19, 1982--A New Perspective of Death, Motherhood and Children
For lack of time today, I'm going to honor day 33 by including an old letter I wrote to my dad on the day I turned 33. I'll be 38 this year so this was back in 2011.
Dear Dad, I'm 33
You've been on my mind a lot lately. I went to bed thinking of you last night. It was my last night as a 32 year old and I thought of how you were only 33 when you died. So young. All my life, until just recently, I thought of you as the age you would be if you were still alive. Older, wiser and set in your ways. A father...my father... as I am now...not when I was four. I imagined you as the age of my friends' fathers. Always growing as I grew. But now here I am...33 years young today and I see things from a completely different perspective.
You were so young when you died. You were just starting to run again after your accident where you were told that you would probably never walk again.
To be able to RUN again. What peace you must have felt before your death.
As I begin my 33rd year of life, I think of you and how your life ended at 33. I still wish that I would have known you. How I would love to go on a run with you or have you join me in a race or two. Maybe even Boston. But even though you are not here physically, I feel you from time to time when I am running. I know you're there.
|This was definitely a moment I felt you on my run. I|
I will probably always feel that catch in my heart when I talk about you to others or when I think of how much I wish I would have been able to know you and grow up with you in my life. For many years, I felt embarrassed to grieve over someone that I couldn't even remember. I felt silly to be sad about a father that died when I was only 4. I felt like I didn't have the right to feel loss. Like I should suck it up and deal with it because others have it far worse. It took me until I was almost 18 to really acknowledge the pain that came from losing my dad, a man I once adored and waited all day to wrap my arms around. And now so much of this blog has been about processing my feelings, being vulnerable, telling my story, forgiving and sharing my reflections. So much of my strength and resilience is a gift from you. Thank you.
Thank you for giving me life. It has been an extraordinary one and only continues to get better! I wish I would have known you but in a sense, I guess I do. So much of you is in me. Perhaps you really will be running with me in Boston. I'll listen for you.
Here's to 33! Hope this is only the beginning of a long and happy life.
I love you,
Here's to 33. I no longer carry the pain I once did. The last five or six years has been good for healing. I've gone through some necessary work and processes to where my heart doesn't ache the same... it feels whole where it once felt broken.
In Honor of 33,