On Wednesday, March 15th, 2023 at about 8:00 am I found out that my father David passed away. It was a tragic and sudden shock.
Dave lived in Washington state, he was an avid outdoorsman, mountain biker, kayaker, and a gifted carpenter. He competed in a number of bike races, loved to fish and pheasant hunt, and did woodworking so fine he was hired to work in the homes of billionaires. He was never so alive as he was on a river; surfing rapids on a stand-up paddle board or bombing white water in a kayak. He competed in slalom and even got so far as Olympic qualifying races. As a man, he was just impossibly cool.
My dad and I had only a brief relationship as far as father/son relationships go. He entered back into my life when I was 13 years old. He lived in Northbend Washington, so visits here were few and far between. The first time I met him, I was enamored. He was funny and confident, things I was able to pick up on immediately, but I think I was also caught up in what I now understand to be his immense vulnerability and bravery.
On that very first visit, prior to which I had only ever spoken to him a couple of times on the phone and written a few letters, he took me aside and apologized to me. In incredibly simple terms he apologized for not being there and told me that from here out he wanted to make sure he was "there" in some sense moving forward. I was 13, my conception of forgiveness was very limited, plus it isn't as though I suffered much in his absence. I had a good life and a fine and caring stepfather; I couldn't grasp exactly what if any pain he believed he caused.
Looking back, I can only imagine how difficult it was to meet me, to say those things to me, and to make an effort to stay involved in my life in the way that he did. It would have been far easier to let me live my life, but that wasn't who he was. As I came to know my dad more, taking the easier road and thinking of himself first was - as far as I can tell - only something he did once, with me, and it haunted and pained him. It's clear this is why he worked stridently to make amends.
Over the next several years we met a couple of times a year. We'd grab breakfast or lunch and we'd talk almost entirely about me. Our relationship grew even faster when he introduced me to his wife Kate. I'll never forget the breakfast she nudged my dad into taking me - that very morning - to meet my grandparents and his brother Doug who was in town as well. This was the first time I met any of them as a conscious person. This was probably also terrifying to my dad, but he did it and now I have a great relationship with an entire loving family who has embraced me and loved me since that day.
Shortly after, I met all of his brothers and my immediate cousins, I vacationed to up north Michigan for years with the family and got to invite my grandparents to my wedding. I've written before about going out to visit my dad for the first time, how it inspired in me a love of the outdoors and gave me such a strong sense of purpose and self-identity. It was profoundly impactful on me. My dad transformed into someone I really admired and strove to be more like in all facets of my life. I've gotten to experience the outdoors more with him and joined in his traditions like the yearly Orcas Island mountain-biking trip he has been doing for more than 30 years. I brought my wife out to visit where we biked and backpacked to camp on the Washington Coast. After my daughter was born he visited more frequently and last summer she had so much fun with him as an 18 mo old that she still talks excitedly about the vacation over six mos later.
This is all to say that we were just getting started when my uncle called me Wednesday morning to tell me he passed silently in the night.
The very nature of tragedy is the acknowledgment of lost potential. I was so excited for my daughter to experience more of him, for me to experience more of him, and to continue to learn and connect to him in all the ways that had previously made my life feel whole. My heart aches as much for the people in his life like his brothers and his parents and especially his wife and stalwart partner Kate. The lost potential feels immeasurable, as does the tragedy.
On Saturday the 25th I traveled out to Washington where my dad's good friend was throwing a celebration of life event. The property where the event was held was the same place my dad stayed when he first went out to Washington, right on the river, it was also where I stayed. What immediately struck me was how large and immediate the embrace of my dad's community came together. His family and friends were all out in force; sharing stories and extolling the virtues of "Dave Z".
My dad had all four of his bosses he had ever worked for as a carpenter present, they each pulled me aside, tears in their eyes, to tell me what a great person my dad was. It made me immensely proud. He had kayaking friends who went on a memorial paddle just before the event and gave him a kayaker's send-off by running his empty kayak down the river, it was beautiful. His mountain bike friends came out and cooked up some incredible food for the event. My dad was obviously such a lynchpin in so many communities.
During the ceremony there were a number of speeches, myself included, discussing how great of a person my dad was. Not just that he was cool or a hard worker, but that he was always centering others. His reliability and willingness to help anyone were brought up over and over again. He was always the first to jump in and help, the last person to eat, always volunteering, always stepping in or up even when things were difficult or he wasn't at his best. In my speech, I wanted to exemplify this and make sure in the wake of losing my dad I too do the difficult thing. Rather than focusing on all the loss, which would be the easier thing to do, I want to look to everything that I have gained from my relationship with my dad.
It seems today that our sense of community has become more threadbare. So much of our time is spent in digital spaces or at work engaged in wrought, tensional professional interactions. There have been lots of discussions regarding the impact of losing a sense of community on mental health, some people even tie our satisfaction with life directly to the quality of the relationships in it. One thing I have gained from my dad is not just an understanding of the virtue of community but his community itself. A voluminously deep, loving family, friends and traditions, and a connection to so many amazing places.
My dad did not exist in group chats or on social media. He rarely ever canceled on plans once they were made. He spent his free time engaged with others; from making cookies for his neighbors to helping someone with a home project. He did this regardless of the difficult day at work he had or what else he had going on, how he felt was not at the center of his decision-making. I can't think of any way to honor his memory more than to try and do the same whenever I can.
While I wish my Dad and my children could have more time together, which is truly the most devastating aspect of all of this, I keep telling myself that everything that my dad is culminates in me. The last time I was out with him on the Orcas ride in Feb 2022, on our way back to the airport, he told me he was proud of the man I have become. I know that if I can continue to live in such a way that makes him proud and honors his memory my children will get to experience him even if it wasn't exactly the way I had hoped.
I will strive to live up to that pride every day. Love you, Dad. You'll always be "there" for me..
