His Name Was Gary

Tomorrow (April 21st) is my dad’s birthday. He would have been 77. Hard to believe. I wonder what he would look like today. My boys looks like him, I think, especially my oldest. My dad was very athletic and super cool. I looked up to him and I respected him. His name was Gary.

When I got divorced I could tell he was disappointed. When John and I started dating, he asked my mom, “Is she really dating that hippie?” Hilarious as hell. John had long-ish (not really long) hair when we met. It did not take long at all for my dad to realize that John was pretty special. Thanks Dad!

My dad was 60 years old (so young) when he died. My husband is 61. Stew on that perspective.

Dad’s crummy health history began at a pretty young age. I know he had high blood pressure. I’m not sure when that was diagnosed. I can remember him getting really bad bloody noses that would not stop. He also had heart problems. When he was 48 years old, he had quadruple bypass surgery. He smoked before that. He didn’t smoke after that. They say that procedure usually lasts about ten years. So after about 10 years, he had double bypass surgery. I remember that surgery being really hard on him. He had a hard time sleeping. I remember him saying he had a hard time sleeping because he wasn’t sure he was going to wake up again. His brother had it too. They would joke about how it felt like there was a little man with an axe standing on their chest and breaking it open, one little chunk at a time. He had a great sense of humor.

I can remember clearly when he died. He and my mom had been over at our house for supper. He was playing with Tayler. He absolutely adored her. She was ten months old at the time. He was so good with all my kids.

While they were over, he complained about how tired he was. He had been doing yard work that day before they came over. He kept telling mom that he was tired and he just wanted to go home. That was the last time I saw my dad alive.

I can still hear the way he said my name. I can still hear him saying, “Peg Leg Jones come rattle your bones.” He said that to me all the time. I can still see him coming down the steps with his hair all crazy and pretending to be Jack Nicholson in The Shining, and saying, “Heeerre’s Johnny.” He would laugh and laugh. So many good and funny memories of him. He liked life. He lived it well. He liked fast cars, dogs and country music. I miss him every day and think about him every day.

When you see things about people setting goals or reasons why they want to do something, such as lose weight or eat healthy, or whatever. Finding your why, which by the way, I wish there was a better way to say it. Finding your why sounds weird to me. Maybe finding your proof, or your reason or your motive. But, whatever.

I came to the realization that my reason is my Dad. I believe his health or lack of good health is why I work out. It’s why I eat as healthy as I can. It’s why I bust my ass. He had a strong work ethic and I believe he passed that on to all of us kids. None of us are lazy. It’s why I became a fitness professional. It’s why I became certified in nutrition and training. It’s my reason. It’s my “why.”

His poor health pushed me to be better about my health. It pushed me to not want to be like him. It pushed me to change the family history. It was very important to me to be healthy. I did not want to feel like crap when I got older. I wanted to stay in shape. I wanted to be healthy. That’s why I do what I do. I want to help as many people as possible to get healthy and stay healthy. I want them to be able to outsmart their genetic predispositions.

It’s NOT all genetics. My dad had several brothers and sisters. Two sisters and I think four brothers. There is one brother left. The other brothers all died from heart issues. The sisters had different health histories. My dad’s brother will be 92 this year. Not one of the others made it past 70. The interesting thing about Uncle Bob, that I can remember from when I was 14 or 15, is that he ate well and exercised every day. I remember being at their house and he would have eggs and grapefruit for breakfast. He took pretty good care of himself. There is a saying I heard one day that is totally relevant here: “Genetics are like a loaded gun, lifestyle pulls the trigger.” This could not be more true in this situation.

After dad died, two weeks later one of his sisters died. She told someone that since Gary was gone it was okay for her to go. He was the baby. Maybe she felt obligated. Two weeks after that, his brother, Don, died of a heart attack. Some pretty whacked out family history.

Every year I put a pic of Dad on Facebook in remembrance of his birthday. I will continue to do that. Also this year I am getting a cardinal tattoo. Have you heard the history behind the appearance of cardinals?

“A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them. They also make an appearance during times of celebration as well as despair to let you know they will always be with you. Look for them, they’ll appear.”

Cardinals visit our house all the time and tap on the windows or the door. One time when my sister was visiting, a cardinal showed up at the deck door and was suspended in the air, just looking in at us.

His name was Gary.