I was holding the hand of my Dad when he died.

Just writing this makes me emotional.

I think I try to block it out and not relive that moment; mainly, because it was one of the toughest moments of my life.

But in those final hours with my Dad, I remember that there were two conversations that coming to my mind—and a realization that shaped the rest of my life.

The conversation that didn’t happen

I was working late on a weekend.

I look down at my phone.

Dad was calling.

Me: “I’ll talk to him later, I’m busy”

Turns out, I wouldn’t.

That would’ve been the last time I talked to him.

He went on hospice a couple days later, and never woke up.

That moment in the chemical plant at 11 PM on a Saturday, looking down at my phone, and making the decision not to answer that call will forever be seared into my memory.

And I’ll always regret not talking to him one more time.

Nothing at work was worth missing that last conversation.

The last conversation

Just a week before that missed call, I had called him on the way home. It was an hour drive and I typically called him to talk about work.

Before hanging up, he said:

“Son, there’s two things I want for you in life. One is to put God first always and take care of your family second. That’s what I always did.”

We talked for a few more minutes about random stuff that I don’t even remember. But I’ll never forget that.

It was one of the last things he ever said to me, and I carry it with me forever.

The Realization

As I was holding my Dad’s hand those last couple of hours next to his hospice bed in the living room, I had some time to think.

My Dad was my rock; A principled, spiritual leader who guided not just me, but everyone who knew him as evidenced by that last conversation.

Even though I’d moved out at 18, got married at 19, and spent the next 10 years raising my own family, I still leaned on him for guidance.

His beliefs, principles, and convictions were like a roadmap for me.

But when he died, I realized something: I couldn’t just live by his principles anymore.

I had to decide what I believed.

I had to own those convictions myself.

In those 5 seconds, I truly grew up.

No longer would I miss time with the main people that I loved because of some work obligation.

No, I had to step up and be a man.

I had to be the person that lived by principles and shared convictions with the people I cared about.

Because one day, I will have that last conversation with my kids.

And I want it to be like the one I had with my Dad.

The Key Lesson

We all lean on leaders—mentors, parents, etc—for guidance.

And that’s a good thing.

But there comes a time when you have to take full ownership of your beliefs, your principles, and your life.

For me, that moment came in the hardest way possible.

So here’s my advice:

• Don’t put off the conversations that matter.

• Don’t let “later” steal your chance to connect with the people you love.

• And most importantly, don’t wait for life to force you to grow up.

Own your values.

Live intentionally.

And never take a call from someone you love for granted.

Swanagan