My dad lived his life with strength, humor, and a heart full of love — even while quietly battling hypertension, irregular rhythms, and cardiac blockage for decades. He was first diagnosed in his 30s, but he never let it define him. He took care of himself. He stayed hydrated working long days outside as a lineman for Frontier. He took his medications, kept every appointment, and did everything he could to stay healthy.

He was a great dad — the kind who loved his kids unconditionally and made sure we never doubted how proud he was of us. He was a devoted husband, a fierce friend, and the person who could make an entire room laugh without even trying. Being around him was simply fun.

On an October night in 2019, everything changed. My parents were camping at Fort DeSoto when my dad collapsed. My mom performed CPR until paramedics arrived, but they couldn’t revive him. He was only 56. He had so much more life, love, and laughter left to give.

Losing him shattered our world. I miss talking with him — not just for his advice, but because he was one of the most genuinely enjoyable people to spend time with. I will always wish something could have been different. But I’m grateful for the years I had with him, because many people never get a dad like mine.

I walk in his memory. I walk for the families who have felt this same heartbreak. I walk for the hope that one day, enough research, funding, and awareness will lead to a cure — so no one else has to endure what we did on that night in 2019.

This walk is for him. And for every family who has loved and lost someone too soon.