I had a generous father. He commuted from our small town on the Central Coast to Silicon Valley five days per week. He made this selfless decision for his family. So, it was no surprise when he dropped his retirement dream of living abroad to help my young family renovate our first home.
He was a daily workhorse. Digging trenches, ripping out trees, making dump runs, and still finding the energy to entertain our two young sons. Despite his 62 years, he had the strength and determination of a man half his age. After a couple of weeks, his sore back turned to multiple ping pong ball sized bruises–which were later diagnosed to be metastasized tumors. The first six months were full of positivity and hope. The last 12 months were a nightmare. In the span of 18 months, I had lost the most important man in my life and that same man had lost his dream.
At the end, we spent many hours reflecting about life and death. Despite his situation, he lived in a constant state of positivity. Even as he was winding down his life, he was encouraging me to live with passion and purpose. “Time is your most valuable asset, son. Don’t waste it.”
His ashes and his motto, “he lived a good life, he had no regrets” float above the third tee at Spyglass Hill. His spirit lives in those dunes for me and anyone that knew him. My inheritance from my Dad was not money–it was perspective.
This journey is dedicated to him. He inspired it. And I hope to inspire anyone that follows me on my adventure. Take stock of your own life and make sure you’re on the path to where you hope to be. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Let’s get on with it!
