OK, I don’t know if you have access to this website, but according to their calculator, this is now day twenty-thousand, four hundred and forty one, in this humble life I call The Bobster.

Actually, that nickname was bestowed on me by a coworker and friend. I have active in promoting the nickname, that is for sure. I used that handle on any number of communiques within the MCT community.

I’m back to work today, and dealing with certain shifts in my new chapter. The funny thing, for me, is that I know he’s right there, looking over my shoulder, likely pointing out errors in my spelling or grammar – ok, that was likely an exaggeration, but I do know my dad cared about the language. He’s got me thinking about every piece of business communication that I engage in .

I missed yesterday’s blog entry. I was up late, thinking about any number of things, but the weariness eventually caught up with me and I had to call it a night. I’m in a bit of an odd space right now with all of the changes, and more than a couple of changes in the current for one reason or another.

A lot of people do a great job managing the separation between their personal and professional lives. I haven’t always managed that as well as some of my peers. I’m an MCT. Have been for almost twenty five years. Is my symbiosis with my profession a healthy thing? Ya know, there are a lot of folks out there that identify very closely with their profession. I’m really no different from them in that regard. I just happen to be a technical trainer associated with one company’s product lines.

Alrighty, then, enough of thought stream, it’s about time I wrap this up for the evening. I’m still taken aback by how far off the day count had become. Just kind of weird. I thought I was keeping closer track in my blog entry names.

Any way…

Peace y’all.

It’s been a Sunday. Church, brunch, running Bonnie to the airport to get her back to Columbus and grad school. Lisa and I went off the menu tonight for dinner, running over to Sonic in Eudora. After, we took an evening swm in the pool.

Hacked off our youngest daughter tonight. I turned on some of the premium features of a family tracking app, and she thought it was a bit of an invasion of her privacy. I informed her that if I’m picking up the tab on her phone, and her car, and her car insurance, and likely her student loans, she can keep her location features turned on for her phone.

She is not happy with me right now.

I wrote for awhile today, less of a creative exercise, more of a practice in writing script. I want to have good handwriting, and the best way to insure that is to write, by hand, with consistency and deliberation.

I’ll write more tomorrow as well. I have notes I need to create in support of my Solutions Architect certification goals. I can do this, but I have to integrate the knowledge into my brain the best way I know how, and for me, that involves taking handwritten notes.

Another day tomorrow. Another chance to focus on the tasks of the day, and get on with the newest chapter.

I hope the world is treating you better than you deserve.

Peace y’all.

Today was that day. We gathered in Salina and said goodbye to my dad. I spoke clearly, from the heart, took notice of a couple of things, and did my best to keep it together. It wasn’t easy, and I know I bore a stronger resemblance to Jello than a rock sometimes, but we got through it. Afterwards, we went over to a gathering space near dad’s old shop, shared a meal, and told a few stories.

I’m going to miss my dad. Of that, there can be no doubt. He was the guy that taught me so much about life and dealing with people. I hope I’ve made him proud with the way I’ve lived my life. I’ve made mistakes, sometimes been less than honest with him in some of my dealings with money and people… and I have a feeling he saw right through that. I’ve grown up quite a bit since those I erred in that way, and I’m sorry for those moments.

It’s quiet here at home now. We’ve got to get Bonnie to the airport tomorrow for her flight back to Columbus. Dane is staying here tonight, but he’s planning on going back to his dorm tomorrow as well. Monday will likely just be Lisa and I here at the house with the dogs.

But the sun is going to rise, work will need to get done, and life goes on. Someday I’ll see my dad again. Nobody gets out of this alive.

I’m tired. 2 and a half hours, there and back. Emotionally drained. Running on fumes.

Dad, I’m going to keep writing. I know you wish you would have taken time to leave notes to your wife, your kids, and your grandkids. Heck, you would’ve left notes for great-grandkids that you never got a chance to know. I’m going to do my best to pass along what you’ve taught me to the next generation.

Love you.

Peace y’all.

How do you write a summary of your dad’s life? Ugh. That’s the burden I had to address today. No more procrastination. How do you say something about that guy, and do it succinctly? Without embellishment. No frills. Just the facts, with maybe a story or two. Nothing too elaborate.

But the stories… there are so many. Part of me wants to get this whole thing over with so I can head to the reception/wake/bar so I can hear a few stories and hopefully the faint roar of a properly-tuned V-8 engine tucked into a hot rod. Let my dad ride off into Hot Rod Valhalla on the throaty sounds of internal combustion engines. There’s fire in the hole!

I need to get to sleep and get myself tuned up for this. I’ve got my clothes ready, and my head right. Coffee and a 2 hour plus drive ought to wake me up.

It’s going to be a rough morning for my mom. I’m glad she has my siblings and grandkids around to help her while we say our last goodbyes.

Or, hopefully, it’s more like “See ya later”.

That’s what I”m hoping.

Peace y’all.

I’m kind of stuck. It’s Thursday, and my dad’s celebration of life ceremony is on Saturday. I’m going to be speaking.

My dad was an honest, moral man that cared about people. I think back to the moments growing up when he went out of his way to help people, whether it was painting some friend’s van or organizing a fundraiser to help someone, maybe an entire family, that was in need.

I could go on about the good things that he did to help folks, but part of this reality is that the people he helped were the sort of folks to pay things forward. Sure, he trusted the wrong people a few times… that’s one of the ways we figure out who we can trust and who we can’t. He looked for the best in people, but also realized that if somebody is smiling a lot and telling you everything you want to hear, you might want to keep a closer eye on your wallet.

He was a mechanic, then a service manager. He loved making things run better, whether it was a big tractor trailer rig with half a million miles on it, or a ’46 Mercury sedan.

As a younger man, he enjoyed family time at the lake, camping, fishing, and water skiing. He was a volunteer fireman. I think he just liked driving the truck fast with the siren on.

I’ve got some other things to think about, points to ponder, and then I have to edit it down, but I want to do it from the heart.

I’m a bit behind on my writing, but I’ve been working on some other ideas, and writing them elsewhere. I’m writing well beyond the two hundred words per day I’ve pledged, but the end result just isn’t visible here.

Time to go.

Peace y’all.

OK, time for me to break down a number. One of the things that I do in my blog is chronicle the number of days I’ve been alive . To be frank, I’ve been wrong at times, and I’ve gone back and recalculated the number of days. Hey, I miss a blog entry every now and then. I’m good about writing every day, but I’m not perfect.

With the passing of my father, I started thinking about the day and the numbers. The reason I stared using the number of days as the daily title was to serve as a reminder that the average person lives about 30,000 days in their lifetime today. Now, when you guys, my grand kids and other generations to follow read this, I want you to be aware of that reality in this time. 30,000 days.

My dad didn’t get the 30k. He made it 28,695 days. On rough estimates, he should have had another four years to make it to the average.

I hope he made up for the time lost in other ways.

It also serves as a reminder that nothing is guaranteed. Live every day like it might be the last one you have on this planet. You could be walking out the front door of your place, and have a widowmaker hit you square in the chest. It happens. It’s happened to friends and relatives.

Live.

Love.

Hug your kids.

Write your ideas and thoughts down.

Yeah, even the crappy ones.

Peace y’all.

Still living in the haze of my changed reality. Tried to get some things done for work today, but the other demands kicked in, distracting me away from one set of obligations to another set of obligations.

Part of me wants to park the whole process and admit that I’m not good at dealing with this stuff, while another part of me is the voice of reason, reminding me that no one is good at this sort of thing. I have to admit I’d be a little put off by anybody that thought they were comfortable with dealing with the loss of a parent.

I’ve spoken with people that had an experience following the death of a loved one, whether in a vision or some sort of unexplained phenomenon. My wife had one of those moments when her mother passed, as I recall. I didn’t have any of that when my dad passed. Maybe we had become a bit estranged/ Maybe he was of the opinion that I didn’t need the oversight? Maybe, just maybe, some of that stuff happens, but some folks just make it up because it’s a good story.

I’m not going to dwell on it. I’m just going to slog through the week, and deal with the moments, one at a time.

Peace y’all.

It’s Sunday night, and I’m still in a bit of a haze with recent events. Today we celebrated my mom’s 77th birthday, the first birthday 58 years that she hasn’t celebrate with my dad in her life. We’re all pretty focused on mom right now, because we’re all affected by the passing of my father, but none of us affected a fraction of how my mom’s life is being throw into the cement mixer right now.

I really don’t feel like writing that much tonight. The emotional roller coaster I’ve had the last few days is taking a bit of a toll. I’m trying to watch a little of the Chiefs’ preseason game, and lo and behold, first pass of by Mahomes leads to a score.

My schedule this next week is a bit up in the air, as one might expect. I am very thankful for the sentiments passed along to me by other members of my team at work. It matters. I’d like to think that I can deal with the reality of this situation in a mature, snap right back into place kind of attitude. That’s a goal. The reality might be a bit different however. I’m not saying that I’m going to collapse into a ball of mush, but I also don’t want to reinforce an illusion of invulnerability. I want to be honest about this whole process. This was my dad. I need to do a little reconciliation in my head about what’s real, what’s perceived, and what’s best for me (us) relative to the healing process.

More later.

Peace y’all.

It’s Saturday night, a day after after the passing of my dad. I’ve been chilling at the house most of the day, dealing with the reality of recent events. Part of me wants to deal with this whole thing, another part of me wants to watch the opening weekend of college football and just remain oblivious to the things happening around me.

I made a pork loin today, prepped it in the Instant Pot, with a marinade and some additional seasonings. I’ll take that with me tomorrow to mom’s place, along with some buns and some sauce. We’re all taking our turns with food prep. Tomorrow is mom’s birthday, and it’s going to be a birthday unlike the one’s she has experienced since she was a teenager. The last time my dad wasn’t involved in her life on her birthday, she was in high school. Kind of crazy to think about.

I’m still a bit overwhelmed with the whole situation. Might be the reason why I’m trying to just keep putting one foot in front of the other right now. dealing with life one step at a time. I find myself doing the other things, any thing, that distract me from the reality that I don’t want to deal with. My dad is gone. I’m never going to hear him laugh again, or make an inappropriate joke again, or wave at me to let me know that I”m talking too loud and he needs to turn down the volume on his hearing aids again.

I find myself turning to the things that make me happy. Guitars, tools, ideas. Family.

Enough for now.

Peace y’all.

Oh, man. This is one of the most difficult entries I’ve ever had to write.

Yesterday, I was dealing with a somewhat-less-than-optimal work week. I had to step back and focus on learning what I didn’t know. I had to accept some of my inadequacies.

Then, while I was chatting with my manager, I got the first call. I didn’t know what it was when it happened. Then it happened again, and I checked my phone. My younger brother, Tom, was trying to get a hold of me to let me know that my dad was not in good shape. He had a heart attack, and Tom had performed CPR on him for twenty minutes. He was alive, but not in a good situation.

This morning, as I was waiting for my next flight to get home, I received word from my mother. My dad was gone.

A part of me is feeling guilty as hell right now. I moved into a new carerr path last February, and I hadn’t worked some visitation onto my schedule. I should’ve gone to see him and my mom, but I didn’t. I’m going to lose some sleep over that in the coming weeks, I’m sure.

Anyway, my dad, a good and accomplished man, is gone. I’m going to miss him. But – he is no longer in pain.

Peace y’all.