Signs of Life: Showing Up
Today would have been my dad's 82nd birthday.
My dad always showed up for me in life. He was my secret keeper, my sounding board, and, of course, my hockey buddy. When he passed away unexpectedly earlier this year, my life was thrown into chaos. If it hadn't been for my husband Derek prompting me to action, I may have sat on the couch in shock with my phone at my feet indefinitely. But we had to get to North Carolina, where my dad lived. It was time for me to show up for him.
We left in a snowstorm, just flurries through Massachusetts, but building to something more substantial as we drove through New York and Pennsylvania. My family has always taken road trips and Derek and I are no different. We've made the drive to North Carolina many times over the years, so this was not out of the ordinary - except for the fact that we were battling the weather and this was one Dad visit I wished wasn't needed.
We exhausted our windshield washer fluid pretty quickly that trip. Every time we stopped to refuel, Derek checked the windshield washer stations, but they were either empty or frozen. From our house to my dad's was roughly a 12-hour drive. We were getting desperate. The next time we stopped for gas we went inside, hoping the service plaza sold windshield washer fluid along with candy bars and lighters. Nothing. We asked the attendant, who explained they had sold out due to the weather.
Eventually, we made it to my dad's cabin in Cedar Grove. The car looked like it hadn't been washed in months, visibility so bad I wasn't sure if it was due to the grime on the windshield or the tears in my eyes. I got busy making phone calls while Derek hunted for paperwork. I was on autopilot, in get-shit-done mode, a state I often find myself in for work. Grief took a back seat. Hours passed. Derek came in from the garage. "Guess what I found," he said.
I looked up from where I sat at my dad's desk, surrounded by family photos and heavy with memories. Derek held a gallon jug of windshield washer fluid, nearly full. My dad was still showing up for me, even in the afterlife.
My dad and me: First Communion, college graduation, during one of his many summer visits to Massachusetts.
A Birthday Celebration
My dad and I shared a love of the Carolina Hurricanes hockey team. They won the Stanley Cup this year, for just the second time in franchise history. Today, during the first game of the new season, they will raise the banner at Lenovo Center.
The fact that the Canes home opener falls on September 29 is unusual. The NHL will feature an 84-game regular season this year (up from the standard 82 games). This marks only the second time in NHL history that games start in September. In the past, an NHL game on my dad's birthday would have been pre-season play. This got me curious, so I started counting. Between the Canes winning the Stanley Cup to opening night of the new season is 107 days. Ten plus seven is 17, Coach Rod Brind'Amour's number from his playing days. Read Signs of Life: Winning Isn't Everything for more on why this number is so meaningful.
The Canes showed up for my dad this year. Raising the Stanley Cup banner today seems like a fitting way to also celebrate my dad's birthday. I'll be watching, wearing his jersey. Wherever he is, I hope on some level he knows it, and is celebrating along with us.
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