Forgive Me, Blog Readers, for I Have Sinned...

It's been almost a year since my last blog post. A lot has happened in this past year. Tobin learned to crawl, then walk in rapid succession. He's popped 7 pearly white teeth through his little pink gums. We celebrated his first birthday in style both in PA and NJ last December. We spent many weekends (and weekdays) at Grandma and Grandpa K's house watching my parents gobble him up and cackle at his antics. Not a bad year all told, but, sadly, my father finally lost his battle with cancer on Friday, March 19.

I'm so glad we made the most of what time he had left and visited as much as we possibly could. I'm saddened that Tobin will most likely only know him from pictures, but happy that my husband, mother and I have countless memories to share with him as he grows up. I'm not ready to write an elaborate, pages-long account of my father's passing and how I'm coping. Not sure if I ever will be, but I'd like to wrap up this post with the two most important lessons my father taught me which I fully intend to pass on to his beloved grandson.

First: Things are never as scary as your imagination makes them out to be. From the time I was 3, we began making yearly visits to Hershey Park. For the first 6 of those visits, my father was forced to ride the roller coasters by himself (ask my mother why that was and she'll tell you an amusing tale involving pants-wetting and, I believe, a brief loss of consciousness). The summer I was 9, he finally convinced me to get on a roller coaster with him for the first time. I was PETRIFIED. He chose the Trailblazer for my inaugural ride since it was the tamest of the big coasters at the park. I LOVED it. Soon we were on to the Super Duper Looper. I can't recall if I also tackled the Comet that same trip, but 2 out of 3 ain't bad. To this day, I credit him with my ability to just "jump" and trust that everything will be okeedokee.

Second: I'm OK--and lovable--just the way I am. Every Christmas I would ask my grandmother for Matchbox Cars or something similarly tomboyish and every year she would give me a doll in her futile attempt to make me girlie. My father was always happy to indulge my tomboy side. We played catch and caught all manner of creepy crawlies and slimy things together. He even took me fishing once or twice. But my favorite memory of all is the Christmas I received the electric racetrack I so desperately wanted. He put it together and we played with it for hours. At some point it disappeared. I can't recall when or why, but I suspect my mom got sick of it taking up so much of her living room. She's welcome to correct me here if I'm wrong :).

I'm sure similar lessons will occur to me as time passes and long-forgotten memories surface, but those are the two "biggies."

Love and miss you, Daddy. So glad you're at peace now. xoxo