I Lost My Biggest Fan

Today I need to tell you what an amazing person my Dad was and how much I'm going to miss him.

When this lands in your inbox, my family and I will be in the third hour of visitation before my Dad’s funeral service. I estimate I will have zero mascara left on my eyelashes, and I’ll have gone through about half a box of Kleenex.

My Mom, brother, sister, and I have been preparing for my Dad’s service like crazy all week. Between the four of us, we’ve sorted through mountains of photos, created elaborate displays, wrote heartwarming things, tried to keep plants alive, planned food, picked up the urn, picked songs, planned the service, cried really hard, laughed really hard, and so, so many other things. This week has contained the longest, fastest days. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so utterly grateful and devastated at the same time.

My Dad and me enjoying life at the lake

My Dad was proud of me in a way that was effervescent. Between he and my mom, they were the ultimate proud parents power couple. Back when I was playing out with my band, they would come to every show. Even the crappy ones, at crappy places, at all hours of the night. It didn’t matter if it was a hole-in the-wall dive bar or Summerfest, they would be there. To everyone who has said something lovely to me about how proud my Dad was of me, thank you. I love hearing it even though it makes me cry every time.

He was proud of all my artistic endeavors to almost an embarrassing degree! It didn’t matter if it was music, art, books, writing—or even this newsletter—he was interested and enthusiastic. He shared it all with friends and family. He was my biggest fan.

He was my brother and sister’s biggest fan too. His enthusiasm for all of us was contagious. He truly made us all feel special not just for what we accomplished, but for who we are. My Dad delighted in our entire family with my Mom, and together they loved the fact that the three of us siblings are so close. He would often talk about how grateful he was that we had each other and tell us how important our bond would be throughout the years. He couldn’t be more right. I couldn’t imagine going through life, let alone these last few weeks, without my siblings.

Seeing my Mom without my Dad is one of the hardest parts right now. They were this rock-solid unit. Mom & Dad. Dad & Mom. They started as high school sweethearts and turned that into 58 years of marriage. 58 years. I didn’t even show up until they were 21 years in! (I was a bit of a surprise.)

This is my absolute favorite photo of my Dad and me.

I really wanted to perform a song at my Dad’s service. He was always such a huge supporter of my music, and it just feels right to honor him in that way. However, it quickly became clear to me that I wouldn’t be able to get through an entire song, especially after three hours of talking to people and crying! So I made a recording. It’s one of my super early songs. I wrote this when I was 18 and trying to figure out my life. Now I’m 37 and trying to figure out my life without my Dad.

The song is called “Maybe I Need to Pray” and you can take a listen below.

There is so much more I want to say. I have so many things I want to make to celebrate my Dad and to process losing him. I’m writing. I’m sketching. But it’s all stuff I want to hold close for now. I’m not sure what this newsletter will look like in October, but I will share something with you every Sunday. I know this experience will make its way into my work. I hope you’ll bear with me while I process and grieve.

Thanks for reading

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