Following in Dad’s footsteps and letting go

By Lethbridge Herald on March 13, 2025.

LEAVE IT TO BEEBER – Al Beeber

Unlike past years, March 8 was here and gone with nothing said by me to anyone about a date that for all the wrong reasons is a special one.

Anniversaries of family deaths can be like that. And March 8 is a date is one I’d be quite happy to ignore every year because it marks the day my dad died in Strathmore hospital in 2019 a few weeks after being admitted there following a heart attack.

While dad resided in northwest Calgary, his doctor was in Strathmore  where his best friend Mel lived. When I last saw dad outside a  hospital at a coffee shop following a visit to the motorcycle show in  February, I noticed he didn’t look himself. He was pale, more fragile  than he was during our fishing trip the previous summer and he seemed tired.

But at the age of 87, dad still had plans  He was enrolled in Spanish lessons so he could understand the language being spoken at a Calgary music festival he loved to attend. He was excited about spring and  taking his fifth-wheel out for more solo adventures fishing at the  reservoir near his hometown of Bassano or where ever his curiosity  took him.

But one fateful day he called and told me he had to seek medical attention after struggling for breath trying to climb the steps at the  seniors centre where his lessons were scheduled. He then underwent a battery of tests which showed some issues his doctor was concerned  about. Then one night while I was covering the Little Big Town concert  at the Enmax Centre, I received an urgent phone call from Mel telling me dad had been admitted that day after seeing his doctor who believed  he had suffered a heart attack.

I saw him once in hospital and was sure he was going to recover. But a  few days later, uncertainty grew as dad sounded distressed in phone  calls and when I told him hours before he died I was going to head up  to see him, he demanded I didn’t. He wanted to be alone. Within hours he was gone.

As the executor of his will, his death brought to life a three-year odyssey through a world I never want to experience again.

Executorship may seem like an honour but it’s not – it’s a huge, time-consuming and exhausting obligation that I would urge everyone  who is asked to take on such responsibility to decline. Your mental and physical health aren’t worth the toll this responsibility will  take on both.

For three years, I dealt with dad’s estate, painstakingly taking note of every transaction made – from bills to owed taxes, often paying smaller amounts out of my own pocket rather than endure the time  needed to deal with the bank holding his funds in trust.

By the time, a probate judge finally declared I had fulfilled all my obligations I was mentally fatigued beyond words. But each year on  March 8, I’ve spent time alone thinking about dad, the good times, the  bad times, the long conversations we would have over the phone and in  person when I had a chance to see him which was usually at the bike  show, the boat show or the odd time I made it to Calgary for no reason  other than to visit. I’ve shared memories with friends and families.

By the time he died at 87 we were best of pals and to this day I miss him. But this year I decided not to remind anyone about the significance of March 8. It was time to let go in a way and rather than mourn as I’ve done so often, I lived in the moment instead of living in the past and feeling the highs and lows that have come with this day.

And I hope Dad wouldn’t feel that was disrespectful because it wasn’t intended to be. But life needs to be lived because we don’t know which  day or even which minute will be our last. We need to embrace life  fully whether we’re 87 and still looking forward to the future like he  was or we’re much younger.

We only get one chance at this thing called life and we need to make  the best of it every single second of every day.

Six years later after the loss of my pal, that’s probably the biggest and most important lesson I’ve learned through this journey. We can’t let life pass us by; we need to live and experience it to the best of  our ability while we have the chance. Dad did and now I can say for the first time ever, I’m following in his footsteps. And I’m proud to do so.