Carlyn Morris

Transcript

He did not survive. These words weighed heavily on my heart, and my life collapsed in three seconds. He did not survive. My dad didn't survive. If you have ever heard these or similar words about your father, I am so sorry. And if you, like me, were a daddy's girl, well, I'm sorry. Now you belong to the club of daughters who have lost their fathers. This club is terrible. I would give anything to cancel this membership. The biggest risk in life is loving another person.

And this risk proved fatal for the man who, I still believe, created my world. My dad died two weeks before his 85th birthday. Three months earlier, he had suffered his thirteenth and ultimately final heart attack. The lucky number 13 became fatal for him. Over 30 years, he has survived open-heart surgery, two balloon angioplasty procedures, and seven stents to keep his heart beating. But he did not survive. That sentence is still the basis of the most primal grief I have ever felt.

But sometimes we get lucky, and grace comes with grief. She does strange things. How will I live without him? What will I do without him? That's all I could think about. Grace whispered softly, "But what did you do with him?" Oh, these memories. It's grace's way of giving us a little hug, perhaps, to remind us that we can survive grief. As for being my father's daughter, I was the youngest and only girl, having three older brothers. I was a real gallows.

My dad and I have shared so many memories my entire life. I remember that it was he who instilled in me a love of nature. He taught me how to hike, travel, kayak, and, yes, fish, right up until our last trip. He was still unhooking the fish because, ugh, I still can't touch it. My dad and I had another great love, which we shared more as he got older and couldn't go out as much, and that was our love of baseball.

He was my Mr. Baseball, because he's in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. My father's college won the first two college World Series in 1957 and 1958. And for nearly 30 years, he held the college record for home runs. To say that baseball was important in our home is an understatement, especially our favorite team, the New York Yankees. Dad told me stories about when he was five years old. He would take out his little transistor radio, lie down in bed, cover himself with a blanket with a flashlight, and listen to the games.

My dad and I have been Yankees fans for as long as I can remember. But it so happened that at the age of 11, my love for baseball grew, and I discovered the Chicago Cubs. Dad taught me everything I needed to know about the Cubs, right? But what was the most important thing you had to know as a fan back then? They were cursed to never return to the World Series. Oh, my little 11-year-old heart just exploded because I always rooted for the underdogs.

It so happened that I graduated from college and moved to Chicago, attending many, many Cubs games. For 44 years, I cheered for the Chicago Cubs, who lost more often than they won. My dad and I loved baseball. This was something we shared until the end of his days. And I remember that these are the memories, right? I know how hard it is to take risks, loving someone with all your heart, when they are the center of your world and hold your heart in their hands.

My dad's heart weakened after I left. He called me on the way to the hospital, the last time he went there. And he told me not to come. I think he knew his time had come and didn't want me to do it. But that's a risk I'd be willing to take to see him again. The risk I don't regret is loving that person with all my heart. how hard it is to love someone knowing you could lose them, but don't let that be the reason you don't take that risk.

Promise me you'll call Dad tonight. Give him my regards. Thank you.

Transcript generated from the recording and lightly cleaned. Some names and wording may differ from the spoken speech.