Life, Fear, and the Heaven That Awaits

My dad was in his late 40's when I was born. That's increasingly normal these days, but as a child, I noticed that my dad was older than the rest and it only added to my crippling anxiety that I lived with (and some days still do). Every time I was away from my parents- school, sleepover, etc- I lived in fear that something catastrophic would happen and I would lose them, tragically. This would later snowball into all of my loved ones, only to be heightened when my dad and my late dog, Sophie, became ill.

There's an internet meme floating around that says something like, "When I hear the doorbell ring I wonder if it's the police, telling me everyone I love is dead or UPS delivering my book on positive thinking." This is something funny that I can relate to wholeheartedly. My anxiety has shaped how I live, and for as long as I've had a cell phone, it meant I would call my mom 3 or more times a day, every day, to check on them. When my dog got sick, I retreated from society and stayed home with her for the entire 16 months until she passed, living in fear that I would miss it. 

Similarly, when my dad began battling health conditions back-to-back, I would try and travel to see them as often as I could. I have no regrets there and for that, I am thankful. But the anxiety took over my life and it wasn't until I received Christian counseling that helped me work through this. The first thing she said to me when I expressed my fears was that we are all eternal beings. Our bodies die, but we do not. Much of the burden was lifted off of me that day. 

My sweet Sophie, who was my best friend and companion for fourteen years, battled Pulmonary Hypertension among a few other things. Her conditions were well managed by medication, but she would have occasional 'syncope' episodes, similar to a seizure, that are not believed to cause any pain, but rather just a moment where she toppled over. She always got right back up and never exhibited any side effects from it as I closely monitored her every day.

Towards the end of her life, we were living week by week and then suddenly, day by day. I always worried that any 'decisions' would be made to rash, but thankfully, we knew it was the end as clear as the morning sun. Her passing was made peaceful, thanks to wonderful veterinarians and medical miracles beforehand. She drifted from this world to heaven in the arms of my husband, whom she loved more than anything.

Exactly 16 months later, on January 10th, 2024, my father was greeted by Jesus and taken to heaven. The thing I had been living in, sometimes debilitating, fear over for the last 7-10 years over. But the fear all stemmed from the moment of missing it. Missing my chance to say goodbye. And once again, I was shown by the Lord that we can trust Him. My greatest wish, to be able to make it before the thing that I always felt looming, out in the darkness, behind the shadows- happened. My husband and I were able to see him while he was still communicating. Seeing me made him happy of course, but there is something about my husband that lights up the eyes of my family and any animal within 100 miles. They all love him. When Chad walked into the room where my father lay, it was as if he was fine for just a moment. His eyes brightened, widening along with his smile. 

That was the last day he spoke or ate. I'm so thankful we were there for that. The last words my father said to me were, "Where's Chad?" (when my husband was outside of the room). 

We stayed for about 5 days with him, mostly in silence, other than my rambling off memories to him while he was in and out. I want to assume he heard me when I shared funny stories from my childhood and remembered his love for his old video camera. Or the day he took us to the beach, and we bought kites. And anything else I could remember. 

He passed away just hours after we returned home after traveling through the night. I believe a part of him held on for us, and for that, I am thankful. 

That night, on the day my father died, I had a dream about him. He was in a relaxing chair, holding Sophie, who loved him almost as much as she loved Chad. She was giving him kisses on the nose, while a few other dogs were around his feet. That was the first time I ever dreamed about my Sophie since she passed away, and on a day as significant as it was, I can't help but feel it was a sign that they were together again.

I had the great honor of writing my father's obituary.

In memory of my dad, Keith Griswold, who went to be with the Lord in the early morning of January 10th, 2024.

In skiing, there is more than one way down a mountain. You can choose the "pizza" maneuver, putting your legs into a triangle, which is considered the easiest way down. Then there is the "French fries" position, where your skis are parallel to one another, but as my dad told me, the true skill lies in your ability to ski on one leg at a time. And that's how he lived his life, taking each stride in grace and never worrying or overthinking anything.

If my dad's life was a ski slope, it was a long and scenic green, and he was skillfully sliding his way down on one ski like the true master he was. I'd call it "Griswold's Glide", because of his joyfully positive outlook about everything that came his way. It would forever be a bluebird day with abundant sunshine bringing out the sparkles in the fresh powder where he always got the first tracks. It would have the bountiful wildlife and birds he loved to photograph; the lakes and oceans near that he loved to sail, and the mountain lodges would never run out of Root Beer or his delicious homemade popcorn.

The first stretch of Griswold's Glide began in Soda Springs, California where my dad was taught the art of skiing in his youth by a Norwegian ski instructor. What began as a childhood enjoyment kicked off a fruitful career in professional downhill ski racing including winning many trophies, medals and most notably, coaching the US Ski Team. Skiing enabled him to travel the world and he truly lived every moment and no matter what tree stumps came into view, he was able to gracefully ski around it. And if he ever did wipe out, he'd get right back up again, along with his witty humor and unexpected quips that made everyone laugh.

His run would have several gondolas that would bring the people he loved into his life, including my mother, Sherry, whom he was with for 42 years. Another would bring his son, Ryan, and then myself, his daughter Cassandra. The slopes would lead his family to life in Oregon, where Keith would live for the rest of his life. Many pawprints can be found in the snow throughout different times, as he was a huge animal lover and along with my mother, rescued countless cats and four dogs.

The final stretch to the finish line would include many courageous battles with illnesses, but he never stopped smiling (or making us laugh), and he passed away peacefully with his family at his side.

Keith is survived by his wife, Sherry; his son, Ryan (Chelsea) and their children: Grayson, Scarlett, Everett, and Hudson; his daughter, Cassandra (Chad); and his beloved dog, Edward.

On Griswold's Glide, instead of a ski patroller, he had his faith in God. And we take comfort to know he's skiing once again in heaven. This isn't goodbye; but like he used to say when he'd hang up the phone, "Ciao for now", dad. I'll miss you.