What came before, and what's ahead

I was shuffling down the beach trying to remember what my fitness-trainer husband told me about activating the ball of my foot “heel to toe” when I heard a kid’s voice yelling, “Daddy, Let’s go!” 

I had just passed a middle-aged guy holding an orange ball launcher. I couldn’t help but notice his relaxed, peaceful vibe as he watched a yellow Lab bound into the waves. 

It was Memorial Day. Blue sky was starting to appear as the Northern California fog crawled back over the mountain range in the distance. Every part of me had tried to talk myself out of exercising and now I was feeling both relief and sadness that my run would soon be over. 

The young boy roared “Let’s goooo” at his surfer-energy dad again and flashes of 22-hour car rides down to Florida flooded my memory. 

I pictured my older sister Molly and me surrounded by pillows and luggage in the way-way-way back of the wood-paneled Pontiac hollering, “Are we there yet???” 

And the time my parents reversed our station wagon on the shoulder of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. We’d left Molly stranded at a rest stop, by accident. We’ve laughed about it for decades. (Note: we always made sure everyone was accounted for after that.)

My young brain didn’t understand how keeping track of four children could be that hard, but as my 52-year old self, wow do I understand. I now understand how the simplest lessons can be the hardest. And how, on any given day, everything is a gift, even when it doesn’t feel that way. 

In those nanoseconds of deep, profound understanding, my own not-so-proud-parenting moments flickered before my eyes: when I lost my 3 year old in a Best Buy store, when I screamed at my son who put a lice-filled comb through his hair, and worst of all, when my newborn daughter fell out of the Baby Bjorn. 

I went from going down low-moments-memory-lane back to wondering how long this little kid will rage against his father. And at what point in their relationship will this father really see, hear, and know his son – if ever?

I was reflecting about how the arc of a parent-child relationship takes time and, above all else, courage to be your most authentic self (and a dose of forgiveness).

I was remembering how I tried to embed that hard-earned wisdom in my book Speaking to What Matters and show through the relationship with my own father how it is possible to create an honest adult-adult relationship with people who are most important to you.

And that’s when, in mid-stride, I stopped in my tracks and practically gasped out loud. Today was the four year anniversary of my dad’s funeral. 

The hairs on my arms raised as I felt a powerful current of gratitude rip through my body. The family car rides, the family sayings, the family meetings. It all lives inside me. My dad may not be here in a physical sense but our relationship continues. Four years ago, I didn’t know that was possible. 

As I started walking on a stretch of baby pebbles along the shore, it wasn’t lost on me that so much of what unfolded this past year – the sharing circles, the writing courses, the storytelling retreats – is as much his legacy as mine.  

So to my dear Dad, and to every single one of you, I say: Let’s keep going!

I’m profoundly grateful. 
 
Katherine

PS You're warmly invited to Discover, Embrace & Share Your Story...

…on August 5th: 4-day storytelling retreat in the Hudson Valley, New York (email Katherine@katherinekennedysf.com to learn more)
  

…on September 4th: 8-week online course to find, write & share your story ( here are the deets)