This Week My Dad Got Diagnosed With A Terminal Illness...

This week started out rough...

The same as the last two have since we left our dad in Florida, finishing out a mini stay with my mom after my little brother's wedding. The whole family arrived two weeks ago, thrilled to be together in the same place for the first time in many years. We were trickling into Clearwater, getting settled, exchanging room numbers and sharing big hugs in tandem with brief catchups. My dad, an active and robust athlete his entire life, 6mos shy of turning 70, was dwindled down to half his size and frail. We were all stopped in our tracks- fighting with an urge to frantically inquire into his well-being, while trying not to be alarmists disrupting the happy occasion. Over the course of the week and weekend, along with many concerns from family and friends, we made a plan to get him to some doctors once he arrived back home in Baltimore. We gently supported him and tried to enjoy every special moment of quality time.

The Wait.

Since arriving back home in Cincinnati, and my siblings in their respective cities, we've had fragments of information trickling in from one doctor or another as they pieced together the symptoms and test results into something we could pinpoint and hopefully treat. The whole family laid in wait, on baited breath, with every text and phone call...praying that the next update would bring answers and hope for recovery. You see, my dad is beloved on every level. Not that the loss of a parent is EVER easy, but my dad? Strong, vivacious, healthy, young, adored by everyone who's literally ever met him. He's also the last grandfather my or my sister's kids have left, and a GREAT one at that. He was the hands-on dad that played with us in the backyard every night, wrestled us amidst couch cushion forts, coached us in every sport, and showed up to every dance performance (even when my modern dance phase had him truly wondering what I was doing with my life ??). He was just cool. He would bring me ice cream instead of flowers to dance recitals because it was "way better." He pulls me aside every time we are together to share music with me, or texts me his latest find- it's our love language. His sense of humor always brightens the mood and rises to the top of every occasion.

And he's showed up the same way with our kids- when we travel in for visits, he dances around playfully making them giggle with silly moves and songs he makes up, teaching them mischievous tricks to play on us, or taking them out back to throw a ball. When he comes out to our house, he's often found fixing up our home and getting to the projects that remain endlessly on the to-do list. He's plainly...an AMAZING dad.

The News.

We got the call from my mom. He was diagnosed with a terminal illness. We don't know how much time he has, but we do know that deterioration will continue and life will be very different moving forward. My moms voice sounded worn from crying, my dad called my name excitedly from the background, and then quickly cracked in emotion. He tried to put on a brave face as always, but I knew he was terrified.

People might fault me for sharing this story so early on, but writing and sharing are how I make sense of the world around me. Just like my dad- ever the coach and teacher- I need to step outside of myself and analyze a situation for what it is and what I can learn from it. It's how I process. So I'm going to use this letter as an ode to my dad who supported me unabashedly through every phase of my life, every endeavor, every knock-down, every mistake, and every win.

I'm going to share some lessons I've learned....Don Style.

1. Family and Community are Everything. Take it from my experience- life changes in an instant and all your plans and hopes and dreams for the future can evaporate in smoke. My dad worked at a big company where he excelled and had the opportunity to be promoted many times to higher level positions. They involved more hours and more travel....and he turned them down. He wanted to be around to coach us and have family dinners at night. He wanted to be involved with his mom and 7 siblings for family events. He wanted to play adult sports and spend time with lifelong friends that are like family to us. And in this moment of need? They've all rallied around us immensely and rapidly. He has raised 3 kids who are ready to drop everything and figure out how to help and support. Why? Not because he had great corporate success and made lots of money. We never had lavish vacations or expensive things. But we had HIM. Because he was present. He was loving. He was hands on. He set the tone and culture of "family-first" and that's what we are ready to live by.
2. Everything's More Fun with Humor. If you've worked with me, know me personally, or have been following me, you know I don't take myself too seriously. That comes directly from Don. To my mother's dismay, he used to dance around the house making up songs based in crude humor and making a fool of himself. And we LOVED IT. It made everything more fun. When he coached us in sports, he truly made people fall in love with the sport. Did we always win? No. Not because he wasn't competitive. He was. But because he prioritized a team culture of working together, always giving 100%, overcoming setbacks, and having fun doing it. There were years we were terrible but had a great time. And there were years we rose like a phoenix from the ashes- sports movie style- to win championships as underdogs. As any great leader does- he knew how to bring the best out of each and every person on the team. He would take a group of apparent misfits and turn them into champions. We have girls from when we were 10-12yrs old that still reflect fondly on my dad and share how he was the best coach they ever had. He changed lives and taught valuable life lessons. Now THAT is a legacy of leadership- at work or home- worth being proud of.
3. Finding A Common Language Doesn't Always Have to Do with Words. For my dad and I- it was music. We would share endless moments just listening together. He would drive me to school as a kid and enact the drum solos on the steering wheel and on my head as I giggled. He would make Saturday morning chores more fun by blasting a great tune from an awesome stereo system. Many times, when we didn't have the words, we just listened together or shared a song with lyrics that conveyed what we couldn't. The best way to build a bridge between people is to find a common language and lean into it. He can find a way to relate to virtually ANYONE. That man will walk into a restaurant and have the waitstaff eating out of his hand (figurative reference seemed appropriate in this context ??). The day of the diagnosis, I sent him the song he used to play me as a child to express that I was always safe and he had my back no matter what: "Why Worry" by the Dire Straights (if you haven't heard it, give it a listen, it's beautiful). If you search for it, you can find something that connects each and every one of us.
4. Admitting Fault is a Strength, NOT a Weakness. I was THAT kid. The really annoying one who was quick witted and skilled enough to find a way to argue my way through, or out of, almost anything. I was also a perfectionist who felt literal pain and shame at being wrong. My dad used to constantly reiterate, "Al, you have an answer for everything. Just stop arguing, admit your wrong, and say you're sorry." God, did that lesson hit hard. With time and healing my perfectionistic tendencies a bit, I learned just how right he was. Nothing disarms a situation faster than just admitting when you're wrong, or that you don't know something. It's the most human and authentic experience, and it makes space for introspection, curiosity, and humility to rise. And when you lead with introspection, curiosity, and humility...resilience becomes a superpower, and you can truly accomplish anything. It's also the most effective way to build trust and collaboration as a leader. It creates a space where it's safe to fail, learn, and become better.
5. Tact is Underrated. I would describe my mom as more of a loveable blunt force instrument... her nickname is "Hurricane Deb" and she's truly a force to be reckoned with. My dad on the other hand? He's more like a scalpel in the hand of a surgeon. I grew up watching him navigate situations with the grace and tact of a skilled negotiator. As a true middle child, he could mediate virtually any situation, he was balanced and measured in his approach, and he threaded the needle of honesty with affability and courtesy like a true pro. As teenagers and young adults navigating the world and making dumb mistakes, my dad was the one we went to and listened to most because of his calm under pressure, and easy-going delivery of practical advice. My mom is all passion and heart. When she handled situations it either blew up in our faces or she was exactly what was needed to put people in their place. She's a force of nature to be admired. My dad, however, almost always got his way because he found calm ways to level with people in a manner that connected with their humanity and made them want to help him. Yes, sometimes situations call for the fierceness I learned from my mother, and I'm glad to have that card in my back pocket when injustice rears its head. More often than not, however, most things can get accomplished more effectively with the right amount of tact and grace, skillfully finding common ground and putting things in a way that is more easily received or digested by others.
6. Some People Are Just Good At Everything. There's no lesson to be learned there...he just is, and it's really annoying ??He can dance, write beautifully, sing/act, play sports at a high level, cook, has a great sense of humor, is handsome, is incredibly smart, and he's kind. Some people truly just have it all... Like us. Because he's our dad.

Hug your loved ones, friends. Make time for what's important to you.

Learn some key life lessons from my wise old man, Don, and maybe you too can build an incredible legacy as he has.

Love you, Dad.