As optimistically as I operate, it’s critical to acknowledge the range of ones’ emotions.
So to start I will say that it sucks my dad was diagnosed with a super rare blood cancer. It sucks that my dad suffered. It sucks he didn’t live longer as he told my mom several times that he wasn’t ready to go. It sucks he’s gone; I miss him. It sucks that many of you didn’t have an opportunity to see him recently, or to say goodbye — maybe because of the pandemic, or maybe because of distance. Or that my dad’s wishes to be private about his health kept a sense of urgency from seeping into your psyches like it did the Tell family. Many of you didn’t even know he was sick at all until he had already left us. Part of the human condition; not forecasting our futures.
My gratitude however, runs much deeper than all of this. And it has recently come with ease for me to draw upon silver linings. I mean look at you all, carving out precious springtime — traveling across timezones, some of you from different continents — all to be together, here, to celebrate Darryl Tell.
So yes, it has become natural for me to draw upon silver linings.
Silver linings like having time in his final months to peer into his upbringing and gain understanding how being “Other” or being “Outsider” could mold his cynical worldview, his appreciation for diversity, his questioning of authority, and his quest for justice.
Silver linings like being with my mom, focused solely on her now. Planning with her and Sarah for our futures. Hell, even doing taxes together gave us a sense of accomplishment that would bring my dad’s mind ease.
Silver linings like hearing stories from strangers or faint acquaintances about the great impact my dad provided them throughout their lives. Stories about the time he went to bat for them, protected them, educated them, or really heard them. Darryl Tell shared moments that genuinely mattered to so many — something I firmly understand, and yet am just beginning to understand.
Silver linings like reconnecting with childhood friends and learning my dad meant something deeper to them than being merely their buddy’s parent. Then recalling fading stories, or finding old photographs, or VHS tapes, and retelling his countlessly retold bad dad jokes.
Silver linings like experiencing palpable moments of sadness and grief with Kerri, which have created profound understanding for each other’s loss and love.
Silver linings like recognizing what my dad has meant to me at various stages of my life. For example, that he’s been my source of “YES AND” energy, encouraging my varied entrepreneurial ventures, and stoking my wild experiments throughout life.
And perhaps the greatest silver lining recognized yet is the lesson shared directly from my dad for us all: to make the most of the moments we are gifted.
He told me several times in his final months:
“Do not wait. Travel and explore. Experience the world. Find new foods and cultures. Spend time with people you love. Spend more money on life’s experiences, rather than save it for material assets.”
Or as I recently and often enjoy saying “Do all the things.”
Upon his passing, this new perspective feels light on my heart.
Appreciation for the moment.
Actively listening to self, the world, and others.
Being present.
Seeking wholeness.
Taking life by the smooth handle.
Not taking for granted our time with one another.
It really is life to “Do all the things.” Part of the human condition; living in the moment.
Thank you all for being here to celebrate Darryl Tell.
And finally, to briefly share my words written moments after my dad’s passing on February 13, 2022:
“Thank you, Dad: you inspired, taught, questioned, challenged, illustrated; you gave unconditional love, humor, interest, insight, understanding; you are wise, sincere, brilliant, hilarious, and infinite. I’ll forever carry your spirit and continue to make you proud. I love you.”
