Stonger than the Struggle

On Father’s Day, I spent time thinking about my dad. He’s been gone for three years now—some days it seems like it’s been much longer, other days it seems like a fresh wound. Either way, he’s not here and didn’t get to see my first book, 2012: The Rising, published.

Speaking of that first book, I started writing it in 2009. It should have been out to agents and publishing houses in 2010. But when my dad died in May 2010, my life stopped. I didn’t run well that year and I didn’t write much that year. 2010 was the only year since I started NANO that I failed to make my fifty thousand words.

I kick myself for not persevering. Since my book is specifically about whether or not Earth would end on December 21, 2012 (which it obviously didn’t), I should have given it the attention it needed so it could have been published earlier and not on December 14, 2012. I often wonder if sales would have been better, had I not shut down.

I remember all the times in my life when I wanted to quit. My dad told me that the Hirase mind is stronger than the struggle, so I must keep going. That’s why I kept taking swimming lessons,  that’s why I’ve never had a DNF (did not finish) in a race, that’s why I finished law school, that’s why I completed my book in 2011.

Thanks to my dad’s advice, I am a strong athlete, I have a satisfying career, and I am a published author.

“Stronger than the struggle” is a great mantra that lifts my spirits when I’m ready to quit, and keeps me driving forward.

Thanks, Dad.

It's Father's Day today.

My dad broke my heart last month by passing away unexpectedly.

I'm still trying to process what happened and why. I'm still trying to figure out a new routine, going from a family of four to a family of three. I'm still trying to deal with notifying banks, closing credit cards, life insurance, health insurance, car insurance, homeowners insurance, etc.

It has often been said that death is harder on the living, and it is so true. There are so many things to do after the death of a loved one, and it takes time and energy. But more on that next week...

Today, I want to remember my dad.

He was a happy man, and I have proof--every person I have talked to says the same thing. He was always laughing and smiling and he enjoyed life. If he was troubled, you didn't know about it. If he was sad or angry, you didn't know about it. All you knew was the pleasure he had in living, and the joy he took in the things he did.

It's an outlook most of us don't have. We worry about paying the bills. We worry about what to cook for dinner. We worry about things we don't have control over. And that worry is verbalized and projected into the world.

In retrospect, my dad taught me that life is about living fully and being present and we should enjoy the people and things we have.

The words to a song keep playing over and over in my head, "You don't know what you've got until it's gone, and I found out a little too late."

These words are so true, and I have a lot of regrets about things on my part--unkept promises, short tempers and impatience, selfishness and disrespect--all toward a man who gave me life and love and everything I ever wanted.

Today I wish I could hug him and tell him I love him. I wish we could go for a drive and to the reservoir to fish. I wish we could work in the garden together. I wish we could just sit down and talk because there is so much I don't know about him.

But the time is gone and he has left me.

So I'm sorry dad, that we don't get to be together in this life any longer. But if I know you, you're having a great time with your brother, your mom and dad, and other relatives and friends you've grieved over.

Thank you for being my hero ... I love you!