Reflections on Loss, Growth, and Legends: Dad, Pete, and Rickey Henderson
It almost feels surreal that in just two days, it will be ten years since Dad took the stage in that great gig in the sky. As I reflect on this, and I’ll have more to say on the actual anniversary on Monday, something has occurred to me.
While I miss him deeply every day, I had a realization this morning on my way to work: I wouldn’t have the life I have today if he were still alive. Would I have ever published Written in the Stone or any of my other books? Would I have joined Accomplishment Coaching? I sure as hell wouldn’t have moved. And I definitely wouldn’t have had the chance to witness some of the finest live music I’ve ever experienced at the Capitol Theater — just a few train stops away now, but once a 20-minute walk from my front door.
Do I miss Alabama? Parts of it, absolutely. My friends, my family. But despite the pain and drama I’ve experienced since moving, I don’t regret it one bit.
I mean no disrespect to Dad’s memory, but I truly believe I grew up the day he passed away.
As for my grief over Pete’s passing, it’s evolved into something deeper. I don’t find myself sobbing every day, but I do have my moments.
For example, this morning at work, I was doing some online E-Learning training. As I was going through it, I came across a line that hit me: “…or an elderly dog, sprawled out next to you, sawing logs.” I miss Pete’s physical presence every day, but I miss those little moments even more.
Pete had this habit of rubbing his head on the foot of the bed. It was one of his favorite ways to wake me up. I could have sworn I felt that this morning. As I woke up and looked over at his favorite corner, I half-expected to see him lying on his bed, but instead, it was my tribute altar.
I know the writer of that E-learning meant no harm, but man, that was a low blow. What I wouldn’t give to have my elderly dog sawing logs next to me again.
And lastly, some thoughts on the iconic Rickey Henderson.
When I was coming of age as a baseball fan, I was absolutely blown away by him. Not only was he the greatest base stealer of all time, but he could also hit some absolute nukes.
One of my favorite players today is Ronald Acuña. Not only can he hit some tape-measure home runs (when healthy, of course), but he’s got a cannon of an arm, and he’s one of the best base stealers in the game today. He also plays with a swagger that can’t be taught.
If he can stay healthy, he’ll be this generation’s Rickey Henderson.
Rickey loved to speak in the third person. One of my favorite stories about him is when someone asked him about his thoughts on “John 3:16.”
“Rickey don’t care that John’s hittin’ .316. Rickey hittin’ .325!”
As a Gen X baseball fan, I find myself incredibly saddened by his passing.
