“Keep the faith, Gregory”. His voice saying those words still rings through my ears. My dad was not a overtly philosophical man, in fact quite the opposite. His introversion was by intent the antitheses of what he loathed…loud mouthed, hyper-opinionated people who had about as much depth as a piece of paper. But that one sentence was his mantra. A mantra to stick to it. To stay focused. To not deviate from what you know to be right and true and ultimately good. I use those words as a war cry. As a church hymn. As a poem.  As a form of therapy. All inside the privacy of my mind for no one else but he and I to continue our regular posthumous conversation. The words are my core. The words are the only ‘philosophy’ I teach my boys.

Now, the words mean more than ever. I’m using them to hold the line in our beautiful life my Amy and I have created. A life Amy and I promise each other we live in its present moment. When my instinct is screaming at me to rush for security and well-lit pathways in life, I use the words to remind me that the dimmer path is yielding fruits I’d never anticipated – seeing my boys at times of the day the well-lit path would never have allowed me to do and being able to do things with them I’d never thought there would be moments to spare to do with them. Supporting my beautiful wife as she creates her own business and realizes her dreams and the potential she never thought she’d see again. Diving head first into a business to learn what is possible of myself, our ideas and our abilities to execute on building something from absolutely fucking nothing.

And so now, dad, I continue to keep the faith. Even if it means I need to close my eyes because the path is so under-lit that the only thing that can keep me moving forward is my faith…and that is the confidence you gave me growing up in myself. Telling me that I could do anything, absolutely anything I wanted to do in this life.

And I have that now.

It’s in my grasp already.

It’s in the spirit of my children.

Victorious.