Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Endless Singletrack



 It's been a while since I last updated this thing. Hell, kind of sad that this is the first post of 2012. But, as times has gone on, I feel it's only appropriate to share my thoughts on how life has been since my last post. It was already a crazy winter. Minimal snow, mild temps and lots of riding. Over the winter I already had been re-evaluating how I look at life, and how I view responsibility, work, family and so on. But everything I thought I knew completely changed on the morning of February 15th. 

I was up in Steamboat Springs for some work meetings, but this morning Len and I were up extra early to get some powder skiing in up on the mountain. I got a phone call from my Dad's girlfriend telling me I needed to rush over to the house immediately. My dad was having difficulties, and she was calling an ambulance. As I was driven to the hospital from Steamboat, about 2.5 hours away, I tried to remain positive. As I later found out, he had an horrible brain tumor called a glioblastoma. These types of brain tumors don't really respond any kind of treatment. Due to the size and progression of the tumor, things were looking bad, even from the very beginning. Less than two weeks after being taken to the hospital, my Dad passed away. 
  


He was a vibrant, fun loving, energetic man who was the greatest father I could have possibly asked for. Whenever I needed him, he was there. No questions. He was also my best friend. I could call him up and shoot the shit for hours. I could ask him for advice on whatever it was that I needed. The two of us could talk and talk.

My dad wasn't one to sugarcoat things. He meant what he said, and said what he meant. And with our relationship, there wasn't anything we couldn't talk about. Years and years ago he made me promise him I would let him become a vegetable, or be in a state that would compromise his quality of life. He was very adamant that he didn't want to just linger on.

After a very bleak prognosis, and some very difficult days, the decision was made to withdraw support. With my Dad being the person he was, there was no way I could let him continue living in any form of disability or pain. To this day, I still know it was the right decision.
The way I see it, he's off riding endless singletrack. For a man who worked almost his entire life, and juggled responsibility like a champ, he can now fully relax.
It's impossible for me to write down everything I learned from him. And words can not even describe what he meant to me, or how much I still love him. But I know he's in a better place right now, and for that I can take solace.
Now, almost over a month since he's been gone and I still think about him everyday. The relationship I had with my dad was unlike most. He was more like a brother and my best friend, he was my best friend. For that I can remain extremely happy and thankful for all the time and memories I have with him. Without a doubt I am bummed he will not be around to have more awesome memories with, I know he's with me everyday. Every bike ride, I know he's there. I take him with me everywhere I go.



 Also, as time has gone on, I can't express how amazing everyone has been. Without a doubt, my Dad touched a lot of peoples lives. It makes me proud to know that I wasn't the only one who knew how special he was. He helped me become the person I am today, and I can't thank him enough for it. 
Everyday I live on, carrying the spirit of my dad with me. I get up every morning being thankful for everything I have. I also have the intent on living life to the fullest and treating each day as if it could be my last. I also try to carry on the same traits that made my dad the amazing man he was. It's a tough challenge, but what better way to try and honor him, than to try and become the same incredible person that he was. 


 Like I said earlier, I could go on and on forever about how much I love my Dad and what kind of man he was. Right now I know he's off riding endless singletrack and having a great time. And as I've learned, life goes on. And you gotta love every day. 
Love you always Dad.

2 comments:

kmm said...

My thoughts are with you Colin. And of course your dad was absolutely amazing - he raised an absolutely amazing son.

I'll see you soon,
km

Colin Osborn said...

Thanks man, I really appreciate it that.