My husband and I had just survived the Thanksgiving family marathon, bouncing between both sides of the family, and planned to spend the day shopping before meeting a friend for dinner. Everything felt completely normal.

 

Then, shortly after we sat down at the restaurant, I got a panicked call from my mom telling me something was wrong with my dad and that I needed to come home immediately.

 

At first, I wasn't overly concerned. My sweet mother has always had a tendency to catastrophize a little. I calmly stood up, told my husband, Stephen, that I was going to run home quickly to check on things, and reassured him that everything was probably fine. I even told him to stay and finish dinner.

 

As I started the 30-minute drive home, I received a call from my brother-in-law.

 

"How far away are you?"

 

That was the moment everything changed.

 

Suddenly, my internal dialogue shifted from this is probably Mom overreacting to this is serious.

I immediately called Stephen back.

 

"This time is different," I told him. "I need you to come with me. I don't have a good feeling about this."

 

As we headed home, I finally began piecing together what had happened.

 

My dad was supposed to walk down to my sister's house, just a few houses away. When he didn't answer his phone, my sister, Maddy, decided to go check on him. She walked through the front door, just as she had countless times before, expecting to be greeted by his smile and one of his trademark sarcastic comments.

Instead, she found him unconscious in his recliner. Without hesitation, she began CPR.

 

She performed CPR for what must have felt like an eternity until the paramedics arrived. Then they worked on him for what felt like another eternity before transporting him to the hospital.

 

Less than an hour after that first phone call, a doctor walked into the waiting room and told us there was nothing more they could do. We needed to say our goodbyes. Later, we learned that my dad had suffered what is commonly known as a "widow maker" heart attack, caused by nearly 100% blockage of a critical artery.

 

My dad, Scott MacAllister, or as many knew him, SDMAC, passed away that night.

 

For those who knew him, he was the kind of person who quietly taught lessons through his actions. He showed me what thoughtfulness looks like, how to be a loyal friend, the meaning of dependability, and that sacrifices made for the people you love never really feel like sacrifices at all. Unfortunately, he never quite managed to teach me how to cook like he could. I'm still hoping that skill somehow shows up one day, though I'm not holding my breath.

 

 

First, I'm walking for SDMAC.

I'm walking to honor the man who helped shape who I am and whose impact continues to be felt every day by everyone who loved him.

 

I'm also walking because I will always be grateful for my sister, Maddy, and her willingness to act in one of the most terrifying moments imaginable. Because she knew CPR, she was able to give my dad a fighting chance. Whether it's a loved one or a complete stranger, that knowledge can make all the difference. Every person saved is someone else's parent, child, sibling, spouse, or best friend.

 

That is why supporting the American Heart Association and helping raise awareness about heart health and CPR education is so important to me.

 

I would love for you to join Steps for SDMAC as we raise awareness and funds for this incredible cause.

 

I won't be in Indianapolis for the actual walk on September 19, but I'll be getting my steps in while I'm in Chicago and cheering everyone on virtually. So, if you're not in Indy or can't make it that day, don't let that stop you from participating. Every step, every dollar, and every conversation helps make a difference. (BTW Lilly will match donations of certain amounts!!)

Thank you for considering joining us.

 

Let's take some steps for SDMAC.