If you’ve got one, do me a favor and give her the biggest hug of your life today. This is my first without mine and a reminder of just how precious, and sometimes cut short, our relationship with our parents can be. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. And to all the incredible women in your lives too. ❤️
Someday I will get to post about kids and vacations and silly life things again, but today is not that day.
It’s unimaginably painful to write another post like this, this time for my mom who tragically lost her life in a car accident outside her home this past Monday. But how she died is as important as how she lived. Because she gave her life trying to protect our kids, who were in the car with her, and for that, we’re not just grieving a one-of-a-kind mother and grandmother, but a literal hero.
She was sharp. She was fierce. She was funny. She was as quirky as she was loving. As a career educator, she loved every student who walked through her classroom doors. She loved to explore, loved to read, loved to socialize and laugh, and loved to tell poop jokes to her grandkids. And with only 21 years separating us, she always seemed like the youngest, coolest mom in every circle we ran in.
She could chill out just as easy as she could take charge, always being the person we needed whenever we needed it. Walking through life in birkenstocks, tie-dyes and a twinkle in her eye, my mom never took herself too seriously but was serious about her family and deeply loyal to her friends.
After the trauma of losing my dad, her husband of 40 tears, she could have easily shut down and shut everything out. But in the past year, she had found a second wind, a new energy and refreshed outlook on life. Slow down? Hell no. Not Brenda. She’s been on the go, traveling, walking, hiking, beach bumming and kicking it all into another gear. It was inspiring to watch her give the middle finger to the grief playbook.
As they were only 64, we thought Henry and Rosie had 20 more years of adventures, holidays, vacations and potentially even their own weddings and kids with my mom and dad around. But life had other, cruel plans.
I know it’s natural to mourn lost experiences and the memories of our past, but I gotta remind myself that we still have the future, there is still love to be given… And we still have each other.
And even if that’s all we have, that will be enough.
The Clark boys are cryers. Which makes today a double whammy of tears because it also happens to be our wedding anniversary. And arguably no two days made my dad feel more love or more pride than the days I became a husband and a father, titles he relished more than any. Today is a special day, and I can’t help but think about his annual, glowing, heartfelt text that never came this morning. Love you so so much, Dad. Gutted that you are gone, but grateful that you were here. ❤️
11 years ago today, one of the best days of our lives. I still don’t understand this dumb pose, but I do love this kid beyond measure. Happiest of birthdays to the sweetest of boys. 🥳 🥳 🥳
We spent last Christmas night in an OR lobby, uncertain if my dad was going to survive an emergency craniotomy. And ever since, I’ve been grappling with the reality that my favorite day of the year is now also the worst day of my life. Even though he passed three days later, the memory of landing in Oregon on Christmas Day with one expectation - relaxing with my dad who we’d just spoken to that morning - only to have life as I knew it ripped apart hours later has been hard to shake for the last 365 days.
This year I learned grief is a full time job. One that has rocked me in ways I never saw coming or thought possible. I hated 2023. But there is one thing I feel more confident about than ever… My love of Christmas will survive. This day is magic because my mom and dad made it magic. The way I feel about this season, and as a result, the way our kids feel about this season… It all started with them.
So even though last Christmas brought unimaginable pain, it also provided the ultimate gift: It was the last day I got to talk to my dad. Ever. And that, to me, will forever make today even more magical.
Merry Christmas, Dad. I miss you. I love you.
This weekend was my dad’s final hike. But it was not the end of his journey. His memory, legacy and love belongs to all of us now, ours to carry on forever.
If you ever find yourself at Silver Falls State Park, I know he’d love to see you, ready to talk baseball, grandkids or building code. ❤️
His love was truly unconditional. I know we all say that about our kids but he made sure I felt it. Every. Day.
He put me and my family first. He checked in daily. He was the first to wish me happy birthday every year. He remembered my wedding anniversary more often than I did. He would drop whatever he was doing for anything I needed. And he would have been the first to wish me Happy Fathers Day tomorrow, texting me before Christi and the kids were even awake to remind me of how proud he was of me and the dad that I have become.
Posting this a day early to try and reduce the sting. Not gonna lie, I’ve been in a dark place. But I am determined to let the light of our relationship help me turn the corner. Henry came into our room one night last week crying because he was thinking about Papa. And all I could say is that I think about him too. And that we can find strength in the example he set, the path he paved, and for showing us all just how special a relationship between a father and his kids can be. Love you, Dad.
Our little force or nature turned 8 today in London. Couldn’t be more proud of how far she’s come. Rosie is a VIBE at all times and we love her for it. ❤️🌹
Medicine after a very emotional couple weeks. ❤️👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
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Thank you all for your continued love and messages of support. The tears haven’t stopped but we feel loved.
People who knew my dad have asked how they can celebrate him and/or continue his spirit of generosity. So we have decide to start a scholarship in his name that will help fund the education of young professionals getting into trade apprenticeships and building inspection. In recent years, two things bothered him most - the lack of young people interested in trade careers these days and how few women are in the building inspection industry. As an electrician, inspector, educator and policy developer, he was always first in line to mentor anyone interested in the work he loved so much and dedicated his life to.
So even though he’s gone, we hope to continue his work.
If interested in contributing even a small amount, please visit the link below (and in my bio) and select “in memory of Dennis Clark” from the drop down.
/give
My mom, sister, aunts and entire family thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We’d like to think somewhere my dad is cracking a Diet Pepsi and smiling down on all of us. 🙏🏻 ❤️
