Today, it is 7 years since the worst day of my life, when I found out that I would never enjoy the company of my Dad again.  My brother gave me the news that I was dreading, after investigating when we couldn't reach Dad.  I don't like to think back to that too much, but I do keep my Dad in my heart and mind every day.  The photo I post with this tribute is one that sits on my bookshelf.  I can see it while sitting in the living room and I look at it often.  I especially look at it when I'm watching a tv show or movie where someone is saying goodbye to a loved one.  I always look up at his photo with tears in my eyes (yes, I cry easily) and think back to that day 7 years ago.  I go and touch it when I hear the song Daddy by ColdPlay.  And for some reason, I think of him every time I make a tuna fish sandwich.

Losing a loved one is so difficult.  But in this case, I often put my grief in perspective because of a sweet little girl named Sophie.  My Dad shares an anniversary with her.  Today would be Sophie's 11th birthday if she had lived past the age of 3.  Sophie's parents are my very good friends from Austin, TX; two people whom it doesn't take much to see as the best parents a kid could ever hope for.  Sadly, Sophie's parents were forced to live through a brain tumor that would rob them of the joy of seeing their little girl grow up.  And one of my strongest memories of her death is sitting at my Dad's kitchen table during a Christmas visit and reading the words of Sophie's mom who said she was coming to terms with the fact that this was their last week with her.  I cannot fathom the loss.  But for me, Sophie and my Dad will always be tied together.  And I am sure that when I think of my Dad dying, I will think of Sophie's birthday.  And that's not such a bad way to remember the worst day of my life. 

A story that I enjoy telling is about that horrible day, which was Sophie's first birthday after her death.  I had plans to buy cupcakes at her mom's request.  Cupbakes Sophie called them.  Her mom wanted everyone who loved Sophie to enjoy cupbakes to remember their beautiful daughter.  But then tragedy struck and suddenly I had family and friends around and was planning a last minute trip to Minnesota.  I told my nextdoor neighbor about my sudden departure so she could watch my house and I mentioned the cupbakes through tears.  Less than an hour later, she showed up at my door with a plate of cupcakes to help us celebrate that sweet little girl.  It was just about the kindest gesture anyone has ever shown me and I continue to treasure it today.  Those cupbakes ended up not just being for Sophie, but for my Dad as well.  As you all know, he was quite a baker and he would have loved a plate of cupbakes.

Tonight, I put aside my low carb, low sugar diet, to toast these lives with a glass (or bottle) of delicious Washington red wine in my favorite glass from my Dad's house.  I also toast all of you, who hold my Dad in your hearts.  I love and cherish your comments you add to this website and encourage you to add more or to reach out to me at lmeddaugh@gmail.com.  I love connecting with my Dad's friends.  

My friendship that I had with my Dad as I became an adult and then a parent, was such a treasure to me and I know he treasured it too.  My son and I enjoyed a delicious dinner tonight while sharing memories of Grandpa and what we miss the most.  For me, it's worldly conversations at the kitchen table after a delicious meal and sharing a glass of wine in front of the fire that he never used when I wasn't there, but that I insisted on every night.  For Dylan, it's playing games at the coffee table that now graces our living room and how hard it was to slide a card across that table without it getting stuck in the crack (ah, 14 year old boys).  I would love to hear your favorite memories or how he touched your lives.  I also love the silly stuff that was as minor as a tuna fish sandwich.

Please take care!  As friends and family of Sam Meddaugh, you are all very important to me.  I wish you all good health, happiness and the joy of memories, good baked goods and lots of travel (all of which my Dad enjoyed).  Peace to you!