Good Memories and Funny Mistakes

Below is a fuller version of a story I shared at dad's service. I'm so glad I made notes of what I wanted say because I absolutely do not remember the majority of it. As much as I dislike speakers who simply 'read' their remarks, I am forever grateful I did.

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My dad really enjoyed being right. And he was, more often than not. He was one of the smartest people I know and loved learning about new things, whether by reading or experiencing them. He was forever open to new adventures, people, and places.

Years ago, I was living and working in a small-ish seaside town in Nor Cal. My parents and siblings decided to ditch the central valley and spend a weekend in another town just to the south of me. (This town was famous for having a celeb mayor with the catch phrase, "Go ahead, make my day.")

But I digress.

My dad called me with directions to where they were staying and I diligently wrote them down. Yes, handwritten directions...this was long before printing mapquest directions, and light years from google maps or waze. It was the early days of cell phones too, when they were huge and clunky with horrible connections and mostly you had to shout to be heard.

I made it to the town they were in but could not seem to find the exit dad specified. I drove up and down the coast several times before I finally decided to call him. (Remember cell phone calls were SO expensive back then!)

While talking with him, I told him I could't find the "Fern Sin" exit he'd mentioned earlier. He was a bit testy with me and said several times that the exit is clearly marked. He remarked maybe I wasn't looking closely enough. Umm, ok.

Finally I said, "Dad, I can't find "Fern Sin" anywhere, but I keep driving by a "Fern Canyon" exit that's abbreviated, "Fern C-y-n."

Dad was silent for a long moment and then he said, "Take that exit."

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We laughed about it later and it evolved into a running joke in our family. A placemarker to remind us even the most intelligent people miss things. Make mistakes. Get confused. And that it's ok. It might eventually become a story you'll love to retell.

13 months, dad, and there's so much I want to tell you about.

Beautiful Beginnings

I am still kind of amazed at the circumstances that placed me where I am today. Both the good and the hard parts. I didn’t understand all the moving pieces while they were flying about, but I can easily see why I am here now. 

The studio where I work has quickly become another beautiful part of this life’s journey. I know where I come from - shout out to #fusionfamily - so I recognize where there’s a wonderful foundation for love, connection, and growth.

My co-workers are all - without exception - professional, uplifting, witty, understanding & generous with their knowledge as we’ve all together ‘learned the ropes’ of opening a brand new location. And we have so much fun connecting with each other every week.

I KNOW. It sounds too good to be true. But it really, truly is!

Then, we get to turn around and offer all this goodness to our members…and that is an incredible thing. In fact it is a huge thing in this industry. It’s what sets us apart from the (literally) hundreds of studios in the surrounding area. I’m so proud to tell people where I work!

As I think about 2020, I anticipate reaching new goals, both personally and professionally. And the best bit? I know I’ll be well-supported in both at this company.

Now that’s a Happy New Year!

Sunday Thoughts

In this year of learning how to live without dad, one of the most remarkable experiences has been having people who know loss reach out. Even in the midst of a storm in their own lives. Especially when I was keeping pretty much everyone at arms length - a determined few kept checking in.

Cousins, old friends, new friends...I've been humbled by the people who willingly shared the burden with me. And I appreciate even more the ones who didn't co-opt my loss with their own, but simply acknowledged our collective struggle.

A few in particular have realigned the course of grief for me and I am so grateful. Who knew you could be grateful and grieving at the same moment? I don't intend to list names - but you people know who you are - and I love you.

It sounds like a cliche but you made me want to be a better human. A better mom and wife and friend. Your thoughtfulness reminded me to reach out anyway and love bigger...because really, as Ram Dass said, "We're all just walking each other home."

Inaugural Dando's Day

Today my little family of three started a new tradition. One I hope we will continue and maybe even share with more of our relatives. On the year anniversary of his passing, we decided to take a day to honor my dad and all the good memories we have. 

Initially, I wanted to do something on a grander scale in memory of dad, but that wasn’t in the cards this time. Maybe next year. I think he would have whole-heartedly approved of today, though.

We started off driving south, along the coast, listening to old cowboy songs. (When I was little, Dad always sang them to me while we ran errands.)

Our first stop was Philz for a snack and delicious ‘Julie’s Ultimate’ coffee & hot cocoa for E. (Dad’s given name was Phil but all his grandkids called him Dando because when Madison began talking she couldn’t quite manage ‘Grandad’ so she shortened it to ‘Dando’ & it stuck.)

Next we hit one of those ‘paint your own’ places to celebrate dad’s love of all kinds of art. E painted a ceramic horse (my dad loved & owned horses) while Chris and I worked on a Christmas ornament. We added dad’s initials to both pieces and I can’t wait to see the finished products!

Of course a trip to a local bookstore was planned - both E and I picked out books. I got a classic, ‘Don Quixote’ and she picked out a book about a wolf. (Dad was a voracious reader and was the one who introduced me to ‘Don Quixote’ so it seemed fitting to re-read it now.)

**I actually called dad collect from Cervantes’ hometown while in Spain years ago. It was probably the most expensive phone call ever, but what a cool memory we shared!

Finally, we’re headed out to enjoy some Mexican food to wrap up the day. (Dad loved this hole-in-the-wall place in our hometown - it’s since shut down - nobody but him regretted that!)

Already planning year 2 of #dandosday.

One Year

It's been one year since my dad died.

Exactly 12 months.

Precisely 365 days.

Not sure how many minutes and seconds because I don't do that kind of math.

There were/are so many emotions...too many, really, and I had to take a break from a lot of life. Hundreds of times I wanted to call him - and thought about him even more than that. The circumstances surrounding his passing are still too much to bear.

I love knowing he is safe and at peace. But his loss is something I'll carry with me for the rest of my days.

In recent years our family amended a phrase my paternal grandparents started. They told all of us grandkids, "I love you the most." 

(We even put it on my grandmother's headstone, mostly because she couldn't argue back.)

With everything our family been through, we began saying, "I love you the most no matter what."


I miss you, daddy, and ILYTMNMW!

For Daddy

Grief can be sneaky. Most days you walk with it, making adjustments here and there, eventually discovering a kind of rhythm after the initial shock. And then there are the times it slashes the skies anew, leaving you just as bereft as that first knowledge of loss. 

Never did I think I’d be here - in this spot in life - without my dad. 

I don’t want to glorify things…Dad struggled for so long, and mostly the losses topped the victories. In the harshest phases of his addiction, it was one step forward, two steps back - like a playground see-saw banging out of balance. 

But it always somehow felt like we were one action away from ‘success’ even though our family had no idea what that looked like long term. 

Ultimately, I lost my dad in inches. And I didn’t even know it was happening.

There were many days (even months) I didn’t speak to daddy at all. A boundary of my own making - protecting my mental health, my little family, and the thousands of good childhood memories I was desperate to save.

The dad who proudly lifted me on his shoulders after my first time walking in a fashion show at age 3. The one who took me sledding in a park and sang old cowboy songs while running errands. The one who taught me how to mow a lawn, drive a stick shift, and shoot a gun. The one who gifted me my first piece of jewelry and helped me choose a pair of cowboy boots. The one who would leave $20 on my dresser when I was in high school, calling it ‘purse money.’ The man who passed his love of family into my DNA.

After a significant hospitalization following a fall late September 2018, it seemed the darkest times were past. I really felt he was truly coming back to us. And that our fractured family might have a shot at cohesion again. A real chance to heal.

Dad and I chatted on the phone every day for nearly two months - sometimes more than once a day. I loved those calls and the way he spoke my name - ”Hey Jules,” he’d say, ‘What are you up to today?” A simple and perfect hello. 

But...we lost touch again. At the end of November 2018 I was packing up my life to move across country - back home to CA - and our calls became less frequent, often replaced by a voicemail message or quick text. 

I’m still struggling to forgive myself for those inactions. I thought he was better - and that I would have time on the other side of our move to renew that closeness. 

I didn’t. And I still wonder if what I know now would have changed things.  

Officially, on December 18th 2018, he left earth for good. Personally, I believe he left us late on the 17th…and was called home to heaven. I think God decided ‘enough was enough’ and welcomed dad with open arms - knowing his heart.

The rest of us are all still picking up the pieces.

I Love Fridays...

But not for the reasons you may think. 

Fridays I open the studio and get to work with an amazing woman. We connected pretty much immediately on meeting and I look forward to seeing her each week. Not only is she is a wealth of information about fitness but is insanely positive and actively listens to her students so she can encourage them in the way they most need. She is a gift to my Fridays!

Because I have a later start (Hey there 5am!) I am able enjoy breakfast-time with my daughter, along with that all-important 2nd cup of coffee, then take her to school.

Today as we pulled up to the drop off line she had So Much Stuff to juggle. Props in a bag for an after-school club, her lunch bag, backpack, water bottle - and was remarkably unfazed by my visible anxiety about her gathering everything and exiting the car. She sat peacefully with her earbuds in, just listening to music.

Finally I said “Hey, you kind of need to get it together because we're at school.”

And then she said, “Mother, I will probably never have all my stuff together but for today let’s just say I do.”

That kid teaches me something every single day. ❤️