One year ago today, at this race track, in this tower, with these cars on course, I lost my father.
Now, snug in his undershirt, carrying his satchel, with his ring on my finger and his love in my heart, while stewarding the Red run group, I think about all that has transpired since that first flurry of phone calls.
This morning during our flag team meeting, I thanked my racing friends for their support, beginning a year ago and continuing through today.
Here I thank the rest of you.
There’s no denying that this has been an emotional, difficult year, and the practical and family complications have only added to the strain.
However, because of all of you I’m able to enjoy the view from high above the track, overlooking the kind of mountains he loved, beneath a brilliant sun that so nourished Stephanie’s gardens, with my eyes dry and my focus mostly centered on the cars circulating at speed.
Because of those family members that understood Patrick and his final wishes, his amazing collection of friends, and my own support group, I’m functioning as a regular human being, not a quivering heap of grief, though I still grieve deeply.
I am sorry Patrick is gone, but I am thankful he was here. What more can one hope for a life well lived?
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.