Reflections on what an athlete learned from his late father

From the age of 8 through college, I was a competitive swimmer and water polo player. I loved it, but the water can be a lonely place. You may be on a team surrounded by friends, but while in motion you see little more than a black line and some bubbles -- and you hear virtually nothing.

But race days were different for me and my two brothers who also swam. We could hear while underwater quite clearly. We could hear one voice. That voice belonged to Dad.

He had the loudest, deepest baritone you could ever imagine, and he was not at all shy about using it to its fullest strength. There might have been hundreds of spectator parents at a meet, but I could clearly hear his voice above the din. My bothers had the same experience. He and Mom were our greatest cheerleaders, though her voice was not as loud. And we were never alone, even underwater.
    
We lost our big voice just a few weeks ago when Dad passed away at the age of 89. Yes he had been infirm for a long time. Yes, he lived a great, long and full life. And yes, we all expected the outcome for months. But the finality of it has left me feeling like a 51-year-old little boy.

It's very tough. But over the last few months and especially the last few weeks I've grown up a lot, thought a lot and learned a lot from Dad.
   
He was the life of every party he ever attended, including the parties he crashed! He never once missed out on the opportunity to laugh, to have fun or to live life to its fullest. He was the strongest guy I ever met. True story-I once saw him carry a full size refrigerator up 6 flights of stairs- by himself-while it was strapped to his back. He embarrassed my brothers and me and perhaps my Mom with how loud and boisterous he could be (without any alcohol assistance) to the point where I asked him to not be as loud, even if he was cheering for me. It wasn't until years later that I finally understood that it was him and how he lived and loved life and it was I who should appreciate it and develop a thicker skin. He worked hard, provided well, played hard and touched everyone he came into contact with.
    
I am not naive enough to think I am over the hump in the grieving process. Maybe it will take years, maybe I'll never get over the sense of loss. But I know this. Dad wants me to live. He wants my Mom and brothers and all his grandchildren to live. He wants his friends to live. And I don't mean to just get by, but to wring every last drop out of every minute out of every day. He wants us to laugh till we cry as he did on any occasion he could. He wants us to be happy and be fulfilled. He wants us to hug and kiss our wives, sons and grandchildren and tell them that we love them every single day. And never let the sun go down on an argument. He'd tell us life is way too short to waste even one day. And he would be right -- for his family and for yours.
    
That is the lesson that Dad has for all of us -- live your life to the fullest. Have fun every single day. Tell your wife, husband, children, friends how much you love them and how special they are to you. Tell your son he's never too old to kiss and hug his Mom and Dad. Tell yourself you are never too old to play sports. Set some crazy, ridiculous goal and then try to achieve it. Live your dreams, take that cruise, eat dessert (O.K.,in moderation). Don't put off for tomorrow what we can do today. We are not promised a future, so live and love the present. Set an example for your kids and grandkids. Show them how to live life as a bold, big adventure. Don't be afraid to fail; it's simply a bump in the road of future successes.
    
We each have a voice (or voices) that we listen to and perhaps love. Maybe yours comes from within you and inspires you to do and be your best. It pushes you through new thresholds in performance and competition and enables you to ascend to new heights, dwarfing what you previously thought possible. Maybe yours comes from a friend or family members who are always there to cheer you on and to share in your good days or console you on the not so good ones. Maybe you hear all the voices in the crowd and get pumped up just being around all that positive energy. Wherever the voices come from make them positive and loud.

My big, loud, supportive voice may no longer be within my earthly earshot, but he will always reside in my heart and my soul. And each time I step up to a starting line, I will not be alone in my quest.