I celebrated my 25th birthday with a trip to Cancun with my friend Greg. He was a flight attendant with Canada 3000 and got me a buddy pass, so I flew for only $50. It was my first vacation trip as an adult. We had a blast swimming in the ocean, changing hotels after one day as our room was the size of a closet, renting a pink convertible Volkswagen Beetle, driving to Tulum, sun tanning, and enjoying the nightlife.

Señor Frogs in Cancun was one of the most fun nightclub experiences of my life. You could ride the waterslide into the ocean, and then come back to the bar and have a drink. It was the best way to celebrate my 25th year around the sun. On my second last night, I sat on the beach pondering what I’d done at that point in my life and what I wanted to do. I wasn’t fulfilled, but I still didn’t know exactly what I wanted. It would take me two more years before I decided to make a change and start down my path in sports media.

That night on the beach, I remember thinking about my childhood at our family farm outside New Sarepta, spending six years in Leduc on Apache Crescent, where road hockey was a daily occurrence, and all my time spent on a school bus to Beaumont and then from the farm into Edmonton to J.H. Picard High School. I was blessed with some awesome friends, and I’m happy to say I’m still close to many of them today. When you are 25 years young, life truly is just beginning, even if you don’t know it at the time. I wasn’t a big philosopher-type thinking, “there must be something more,” but I had an itch to scratch — I just hadn’t found the cure yet.

Luckily, at age 27, I took the plunge, quit my job in the oilfield, and enrolled at NAIT in Radio and Television Arts. That choice completely changed my life. It led to a fulfilling and unexpected career in media that includes being an entrepreneur. It has been amazing, but sadly, my father never saw that part of my life.

Today marks the 25th anniversary of his sudden passing. My father, William Arthur Gregor, passed away at the young age of 56. He had a massive heart attack in his car at a red light in Sherwood Park. He’d had a physical in August, and there were no red or even yellow flags. He walked his daughter, Rachel, down the aisle a mere 35 days earlier. A wonderfully proud and loving moment for both of them and my mom.

Just like that, our father was gone. No warning. No booklet on how to grieve or keep living.

A part of my mom died with him. They had an amazing relationship for 31 years. They’d built a great life and were looking forward to travelling and spending time with their grandkids. Life had other plans.

My older brother Colin had two young sons, Liam (4) and Noah (2), and a girl, Ava, was growing inside her mom, Elise. Colin loved taking his boys to the farm, and his appreciation of what a great father we had as kids became more apparent after becoming a dad himself. He was angry and hurt for a few months.

Rachel had turned 21 five days before Dad passed. She’d been married a month and her new life was just beginning. Dad never saw the full life she and her husband, Eric, built together. He’d be thrilled they built a home on the land he and mom purchased a year before he died.

It’s remarkable how much he has missed, but the harshest reality of death is that the world continues, regardless of the pain and hurt. As Andy Dufresne said in Shawshank Redemption, “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

We all choose to live life to the fullest.

I’m very proud of how our family endured the loss but remained close. We support one another. Dad would have loved watching his children’s lives unfold. To see them get married (me), to become parents, to share in their successes and failures, and do it with undying support and love. That’s who he was, and his legacy is that his kids do the same with their children. Our parents were great teachers, and I’m proud to say that 25 years later, the only difference in the love between our families is that we have more members to love.

Dad never met his five youngest grandkids, Ava, Ethan, Ian, Owen, and Beckett, nor my wife Traci. They would have adored him, and he would have showered them with love and loads of laughter.

On the morning of his funeral, I asked my friends for a favour, and today I will ask you the same one.

When you are done reading, take a moment to connect with your father. If you are lucky enough to be able to see him today or this week, give him a hug or just spend some time together. At the very least, call him and ask how he’s doing. Your call or time will make him smile. If your father is gone, my condolences, and maybe call your mom or another loved one and share a story about him. I hope that through your actions, my father will see what a wonderful impression he made in my life and heart and know that our family misses him dearly.

Thank you in advance.

Writing his annual letter provides me with a mix of laughter, joy, sadness, and tears. It is therapeutic in some ways as I remember different events or our time together, but I also miss his laugh, his smile, and his endless amount of love. I’m glad that yearning has never gone away, and I still remember many wonderful moments together. That bond helps me today, and to all the fathers reading this, I hope you make memories and special moments with your children. It will help ease their pain and longing when your time on earth comes to an end.

I’ve always been somewhat fascinated by numerology and the weird connections it can present.

My father-in-law, Doug Toshack, was born on December 2, my father’s birthday was December 3, and my son was born on December 4. Beckett William Douglas possesses many qualities that are similar to those of his two grandfathers. Unfortunately, he only met one, and earlier this month, he said goodbye to the only Grandpa he knew.

Doug passed away on Wednesday, September 3, surrounded by his loving wife, Cheryl, and his children, Rob and Traci. Doug was 80 years old and lived an amazing life. Doug was an incredible role model on how to enjoy and live your life as you age. He ate healthily. He exercised. He read. He played the guitar. He loved being in nature, and he loved spending time with Cheryl. They were married for almost 57 years.

For the past 12 years, Doug worked out five days a week at Servus Place in St. Albert. He created some great friendships, and he really enjoyed working out. He wanted to stay healthy, and he continued going to the gym, even after he was diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer in March of 2023. Luckily, Doug never had any health issues prior, and even that diagnosis didn’t slow him down. He did one round of chemotherapy, but he didn’t like how the drugs made him feel. He wasn’t himself, he said, so he made the decision he wouldn’t take any more. He was going to live as healthy as he could until it was time to go.

After his diagnosis, Doug, who was an avid reader and researcher, looked into MAID (Medical assistance in dying). He wanted to leave this world on his terms, and he did. Doug became a strong advocate for MAID. He wasn’t afraid to discuss it with his family, friends, or acquaintances. He wasn’t pushy about it. That wasn’t his nature, but he liked informing people about their options. Many still don’t know it is available in Alberta.

I hadn’t heard about MAID until Doug told me about it. Having grown up on a farm where we put down many animals when they were suffering and in pain, I immediately understood why Doug wanted to use MAID. He wanted to die with dignity. Truthfully, slowly dying in a hospital where he couldn’t take care of himself was his biggest fear. He was adamant he didn’t want to be a burden to his family. It was his choice, and I very much respected it, and I’m happy he had that option.

My father passed suddenly without warning. He was young, and it was a complete shock. Watching Traci and her family go through the death of their father was different. I can’t say it was easier per se, as both endings were final, but she and her brother got to spend many hours talking with their father in the final weeks of his life. They got to say goodbye, let each other know how special they were, and the best part was that Doug was ready.

Doug stopped going to the gym on July 9. He was starting to feel the effects of the cancer as it metastasized to his bones. He still kept active, walking regularly, but that is when he knew the end was near. In late August, he had open conversations with his children about how his time was coming to an end. The pain intensified. Sleeping became a challenge, and finally Doug made his call, and his date was picked.

Luckily, I got to tell Doug how I felt about him. He had become a father figure to me. He never replaced my dad, but I loved Doug and really enjoyed his company. I thanked him and Cheryl for always making us feel welcome and loved and for raising such a beautiful and wonderful daughter.

Doug was particular. He didn’t like surprises, so it didn’t shock me when I learned he had planned out everything surrounding his death. He wrote his own obituary. How awesome is that? He even took a selfie for the picture in his obit. Doug took many pictures of his family growing up, and while he rarely used a cell phone in the past 15 years, he took a great selfie at his cabin in the woods. He loved going there and connecting with nature. What a fitting final photo.

The morning of his passing, Traci and I embraced before she left to be with her dad. There is no right thing to say, but we spoke about how Doug wanted this, and the pain had become very uncomfortable for him. Doug’s final wish was to have his wife and two children with him, along with the doctor and nurse. Doctor Chris and Nurse Mel were incredibly empathetic and made the entire process much easier. Thank you.

The Toshack family had coffee together and said their goodbyes, and the medical team arrived right on time. Doug likely loved their promptness. He liked a tight schedule. Traci told me she was surprised at how quickly things proceeded once the doctor and nurse arrived. From the time they walked in, got Doug settled in his chair, and until he passed away peacefully was a total of 10 minutes.

Even though they knew Doug was ready to go, and his pain was mounting, that didn’t lessen the pain in their hearts, and in the hearts of his grandkids, Stella, Abby, and Beckett, his siblings, friends, his daughter-in-law, Nicole, and me. Death is intensely final. There is no tomorrow, other than memories of their time with us.

The experience, while difficult, was also beautiful. Traci, Rob, and Cheryl flew to Prescott, Ontario, Doug’s hometown, this past weekend to bury his urn (and half of his ashes) next to his parents. It was another one of his final wishes. The irony of them flying to Prescott, despite Doug’s loathing of flying for the past decade, was not lost on us. It was quite comical.

They visited his siblings, had a wonderful ceremony at his resting place, and saw photos of his youth, many of which they’d never seen before. It was also weird not having him there. Everywhere they went, they saw him. That’s the strange dichotomy of death and memories. The memories can make you laugh and smile, while also making you sad and teary-eyed. I believe it is wonderful to embrace all of those emotions because it shows how intensely the person who died loved you and how much you loved them.

It oddly gives me peace and a smile when I think of how my father and father-in-law were both born in December and passed away in September. Two men who never met, but would have gotten along fabulously, as they had similar backgrounds, growing up poor, but loving their lives.

Dad died at 56. Doug was 80. Two loving men, husbands, fathers, grandfathers, and friends who lived full lives until it was their time to go. I’m so happy Traci got 25 more years with her father. They loved each other deeply, and it hurts my heart to see and feel the profound loss of her father.

Sadly, I know the feeling well, and despite the differences in how our fathers passed, when they are gone, the void is immense for all those they loved.

Once again, thanks in advance to those who follow through on my request. It means a lot to me, and I offer my condolences to all of you who have lost your father this past year. I hope his memories warm your heart. My special thoughts to the Toshack family, and to our friend Katherine and her boys, Benjamin and Marcus, on the loss of their husband and father, Ken Bach. Ken was another loving father I admired.  And to all of you who have read this, if your father is gone, make sure you call your mom, because the void in her heart might be even deeper than yours.

Dad, I miss you and I love you. Thank you for loving me and teaching me so much about being a father. You are still in my heart, and I hope you and Doug connect so he can tell you about his family and how our families have become intertwined. Please watch over all of our family and friends, my lovely Traci, and especially your soulmate, Mom.

Love your son, Jason.