My Dad, may he rest in peace, was a stockbroker. Not just a stockbroker, but a great stockbroker. He parlayed a very little bit of money into a very nice nest egg– and it was through a great mind and vociferous reading.
One of my most favorites of his adages (besides his oft repeated “fear and greed rule the market”) was that you only really have three stocks in life– and if one of them is down, it really doesn’t matter what’s going on with the other two. Meaning that if you didn’t have your health, it didn’t matter how great your job was or how much you were loved.
I miss him very much. I always knew that, when he died, I would miss him as much as I do, and for a long time, I toyed with telling him that, thinking that in some way, the information would make him happy. Knowing how much he was loved. But David convinced me not to– and he was right. It would have only made him sad to think that I was hurting and more importantly, knowing my Dad, to think about all the love and adulation he would be missing out on.
So when I went on Monday for a very fast but extremely painful test– which turned out just fine– I thought about how grateful I am to live a life without physical pain (oh yeah except for my shoulder thing!) ; to live a life surrounded by amazing friends and a more amazing husband; to have the proverbial sun in the morning and moon at night; and to have had, for as much time as I had him, a truly amazing, difficult, confounding, brilliant, unusual, and loving father. I am truly unreservedly, unabashedly grateful.