This is me. I think I was around 4 years old based on the atrocious haircut and hand-me-downs.

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This is a photo my mom took of my dad taking that above photo of me.

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This next one is one of two film images I have of the night I introduced Daniel to his future father-in-law and my dad’s second wife about 5 days after we got engaged. I only have them because Dad insisted we take a few group shots before we left for the night. I was agitated and wanted to leave, but I took the time to take some pictures. I gave my camera to Dad to take a couple for me too, because “it’ll take you forever Dad to actually send these to me.”

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I never got the pictures off my dad’s camera. And that was the last time I saw my father alive.
7 years ago, my dad very suddenly and tragically passed away. Completely out of the blue. He was young (only 52), healthy, and was the victim of a silent killer, Deep Vein Thrombosis, in the form of a pulmonary embolism that took his life in less than 10 minutes. I was 21.
April 11th 2005 was another busy Monday in Calgary. I was stressed as my fiancé was in Louisiana preparing to deploy to Iraq. I worked a pretty boring job downtown and that always makes Mondays even worse. My dad and I had been arguing for about a week and a half over the location of where Daniel and I would get married. We’d never exceled at our communication skills and so it was no different than any other time to just let it boil and stew until the whole thing blew over. The last time I had spoken to him before that day didn’t end well. I said things a daughter should never say to her father. I was just angry and by not dealing with the anger things only got worse, my heart hardened and I ignored the problem.
I came home from work that day looking forward to speaking with Daniel on the phone at some point. My answering machine was flashing. The message was from my dad left at 10am that morning. He wanted to talk and work through this. He was sorry and he loved me. Please call me he said. I rolled my eyes, my heart still hardened and annoyed he didn’t call my cell phone, assuming he was avoiding me knowing I wouldn’t be at home. I plop down on the couch to zone out. My mom, who was my roommate in our downtown apartment, answered the call when the phone rang and her end of the conversation caught my attention. She had this confused look on her face. It was my brother-in-law, trying to explain something to her. She hung up the phone and I’m staring at her, asking what in the world the problem was.
Your dad is dead.
I shake my head and get up, telling her they must have gotten a mix up and he probably just had another car accident caused by a seizure from his Epilepsy. It’s ok Mom, I will sort it out. I go into my room and look up the numbers to the police department and the hospitals. I remember getting super irked at whoever I talked to when they told me no accidents had been reported. I remember sitting on the floor of my room wondering who else I could call to find out what ‘really happened.’ My mom comes in and sits on my bed. I don’t remember if we spoke, I don’t remember if we looked at each other. All I remember is that right then in that moment IT hit.
Your dad is dead. And we don’t know what happened, but he’s gone.
There is absolutely no way I could describe to you what kind of absolutely gut-wrenching anguished cry that occurs in that moment. The world just skidded to a halt on a dime. I couldn’t get a hold of Daniel in Louisiana, I didn’t even know where he was but he wasn’t home. I then called my closest friends Aaron and Nicole. I just spat out the words. Then I couldn’t talk anymore. And the world went dark. That is, until I had to take the responsibility to tell one of my sisters what had happened. While everyone else went to the hospital to view my father’s body and say goodbye before they took him away, Nicole and I drove around looking for my sister. And when I finally found her, telling her that Dad was gone and we had to go to the hospital now was the worst (and I would repeat this moment of responsibility when 5 years and 1 week later it was me telling my mom at the airport that HER dad had passed away). We rushed to the hospital where my mom, our other 2 sisters (one of whom was 10 days away from having a baby), and my father’s wife was only to find out they had taken the body away and the window of good-bye was gone. There was nothing left to do but go home.
And when I got home, my answering machine light was on reminding me I had a message on there I had listened to earlier. I stood in the dark kitchen alone, tears streaming down my face, knowing what was on that answering machine and knowing I didn’t deserve it. It took every bit of strength in me to press play.
“Jessie, it’s Dad. This has gone on too long and we need to talk. This whole thing is just silly and I’m sorry. I love you, please call me when you get home.”
4 hours after that message, my dad was gone.
My father and I never had a close relationship; we were all too similar in our stubbornness. But he was home from work that day, that fateful day, and I firmly believe that had he not have taken the time to call me and leave that message, I would never have really accepted that he loved me and I would never have been able to forgive myself. And I believe he called my home phone, not my cell, because he wanted to be sure to have the ability to leave a voicemail so he could tell me exactly what he needed to say. He had no way of knowing it would be the last phone call he made before his wife called 911 for help. He had no idea that by taking the few precious moments to say he was sorry and he LOVED me, he would forever change the perspective of my life and impact the perspective of my heart.
If you have been holding on to something, anything, with anyone in your life who you absolutely care about, even if it’s a strained relationship, DO SOMETHING about it. Don’t stew in anger. Don’t let your heart be hardened. Take the time to make things right, even if the thought of it makes you so much angrier. Even if you know you may never receive a response. Don’t be too proud to throw up the white flag and surrender.
Because, as I can tell you first hand, only by surrendering are you truly set free. Don’t let anger harden your heart. You can be certain that there will come a time where there are no more tomorrows.

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