My dad was a legend. Stubborn, old-school Italian. Fixed lawnmowers for a living. Could bring a grown man to tears of laughter just by answering the phone. My friends would come by the house just to hang out with him — and I resented it. I couldn't see what they saw.
I didn't see it until he was gone. That's what this book is about. Not the grief — the blindness. All the ways we put our relationships on autopilot — but especially this one. Only this one doesn't get a second chance.
I wrote it for the person I used to be. Anyone whose dad is still sitting in his favorite chair, still around to call. That window doesn't stay open.
I live in Canfield, Ohio with my wife Madeline and our son. I write, I speak, and I still miss my dad.
A son · Canfield, Ohio
Then. Now.
Me and Dad. 1988.
Me and my son. Today.
Even if your dad is more of a grizzly than a lot of the other dads out there — and I think that was true of my dad — it's worth a few claw marks to share a walk with him.
From Walking with Grizzlies
Start here
If your dad is still here, you still have time.
The Resolution is a free one-page covenant. Sign it, date it, put it on your desk.
