Dad Jessop

Kinda weird putting this in writing . . . My Dad died last Saturday morning. Mom woke up around 9:30am and thought it odd that Dad hadn’t gotten up at 6am like normal. She tried to rouse him and he was unresponsive. Called 911, called Heidi and Jeremy and soon realized he was gone. Gone. Wow. It still seems unreal to me. 68 years old! That’s not fair!

I talk to my Dad every week for 30-60 minutes as I make my way home on my evening commute from Salt Lake City. We often chat about politics, sports (mostly tennis), kids, family, church. He’s a great man and is a great sounding board for me. As I live my life, I often benchmark it by his life. I often think back to what my Dad was doing at my age (now 43), what his career, marriage, and relationships were like at whatever age I am at. I am fortunate to be the oldest of eight kids. I have had more years to spend with my Dad than many of my siblings. I know that many of them rely on Dad for good solid advice. He was a great friend to all of us and a great source of good counsel. I last spoke to Dad on the way to St. George last Friday as I traveled to the marathon that I ran on Saturday. Little did I know that it would be the last time I would speak to him on this earth. It still seems like he should be just a phone call away.