So, this is something I’ve never really spoken about so publicly.

It was a Tuesday. I was 22. I woke up thinking, “I’d do anything to not go to work today.”
Thirty minutes later, I got the call. My dad had heart failure. Just like that, gone.

I can still feel the heat from the sun that day. I can still feel my heart dropping into my stomach.

I’ve never been someone who dreamed about getting married, but suddenly all I could think about was how my dad wouldn’t be there to walk me down the aisle. He’d never meet my future children, even though I never even planned on having any. He wouldn’t be there for my graduation just a few months later.

He was just… gone.

But I’ve made him proud. I know I have.

I graduated with honours in my master’s, while quietly learning how to live with grief, which has a habit of showing up even on your brightest days, because he should still be here.

Since you’ve been gone, there have been some really hard days, but also some really good ones. And sometimes, in those good moments, I’ve felt guilty. Like, why should I get to feel this happy when you’re not here?

But then I remember, happiness is all you ever wanted for me.

So when I walk into a hardware shop and pick out a drill, I don’t feel sad that you’re not there helping me. I feel proud that I chose it myself and built something with my own hands. When I’m basking in the sun with a crisp lager, I don’t focus on the fact you’re not there beside me. I smile, because I can raise a drink in your honour. And when I moved across the world, my heart didn’t just ache, it felt full, because I know you’d be cheering me on from wherever you are.

I’ve built a life full of people I love. I’ve made real friendships that mean everything to me. I’ve baked countless cakes for those people, questionable results but strong effort. And somehow, I’ve kept finding light, even after the kind of darkness that changes everything.

And now I’m in America.

I made it, Dad.

I’m also sharing a few photos of him here, because everyone deserves to see the light that Stuart Mark Cunningham was.

So, long story short, when Lexi asked me to take part in a fundraiser for the American Heart Association, there wasn’t really a question.

If raising some money means there’s even the smallest chance that another 22-year-old doesn’t have to plan their dad’s funeral, then I’m in.

Now, for context, my usual rule is that I only run if I’m being chased in a horror film. But for this one day, I’m running for the mums, dads, sisters, brothers, for anyone who deserves more time with the people they love.

So, in an attempt to lift the mood slightly, if you could like, share, or maybe even donate a dollar, I can say that now I’m in America, Dad, I’d really appreciate it ð¤