Kelley Irwin

One day last week (June 2024), I gave Dad his Father’s Day card. Reading his card…

Dad – I love you. Question mark, question mark.
Me – I don’t think it says that.
Dad – Reads it again the same way.
Me – That’s my signature. It says KJ. It’s not question marks.
Dad – It looks like your handwriting might need some work.
Me – I know, everyone tells me that.

…and we both laughed.

He then looked at the picture on the card of a dad teaching his daughter to ride a bike. We talked about how my Dad is known for kindness but wasn’t always known for patience. I was fortunate he had it with me from my birth until today. Taught me to ride a bike, drive a stick shift, and captain a boat. Taught me to stand up for myself, coached me on how to find a job, and how to deal with difficult meetings and challenging people in business and in life. Taught me how to get a discount in personal transactions and in negotiations at work, and how to make an insurance claim. How to make sure both sides felt good after a deal was struck. How to be a good host when people are at your house or your event. How to stay calm in order to make good decisions. How to “show up” for people.

Big lessons and small lessons all my life. Lucky kid I am.

It has been 18 months since we received a formal medical diagnosis of dementia. I feel blessed for every conversation Dad participates in. The ones like this day where he is able to retrieve relevant details, and also the ones that are not actual events from his life.