What My Father Taught Me About Grace
He was gentle.
He was kind.
He was funny and playful.
He was trusting.
He was fair.
He was honest.
He was wise.
He was always ready to listen.
He never raised his voice.
He had a beautiful smile.
He was artistic and creative.
He worked hard.
He whistled.
He sang Home on the Range.
He was quiet—a man of few words, soft-spoken.
And when he spoke, people listened.
He loved the outdoors.
He loved animals and rescued many in his time—chipmunks, birds, deer, and baby bunnies.
He brought two joyful puppies and several kittens into our lives.
He loved to travel.
He loved gardening and landscaping.
He adored his wife, his children and grandchildren.
This man…
was always there for me, even when we were apart.
He walked beside me through times of joy and laughter, through tears and grief, through challenges and adventures.
He encouraged me to always do my best.
And he modeled, exquisitely, the qualities I most admire in a human being.
He made a deep impression on my soul.
I adored him.
His love and devotion were among the greatest gifts I have received in this lifetime.
And I continue to carry the lessons he taught me—lessons I cherish every day.
In 2013, I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. with Team Parkinson’s, representing my dad and raising funds for the Parkinson’s Foundation. He was still alive then, though he would pass away ten months later.
I ran because Parkinson’s had taken so much from him. There were times when he literally could not move his body forward to take a single step. It is a cruel disease.
Yet he lived with it so gracefully.
I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2025.
Looking back, I am certain I already had it when I ran that race. In truth, there were signs even before then. Parkinson’s is often like that—its roots can reach years, even decades, before a diagnosis is finally made.
Now, as I navigate this disease myself, I think of my father every day.
I think of his patience.
His courage.
His quiet strength.
His ability to find joy despite adversity.
His willingness to laugh.
His deep appreciation for the people he loved.
And I am forever grateful for the example he gave me.
He showed me how to do this with grace.
How to be gentle with myself.
How to look for the humor.
How to find joy along the way.
And how to lean into the love of family and friends, knowing that sometimes love itself is what carries us forward.
What a gift it is to have had such a teacher.
What a gift it is to be his daughter.