A Legacy Of Love

Dan’s Story

Written by: Sarah Tuck

2020 has been quite the year. The global pandemic has significantly impacted our health, our economy, our politics and our communities. I’ve strapped on my seatbelt and ridden the ups and downs of 2020 just like everyone else, but this year is important to me for another reason. I lost my dad to cancer during my teenage years, and – as of 2020 – I’ve now lived more years without him than I lived with him on this earth.  

I’ve spent some time recently reflecting on the years I shared with my dad, and how those memories continue to influence my life today. He was there to witness my birth, to cheer me on as I took my first steps, and to teach me how to ride a bike. He helped me catch my first fish and learn how to play t-ball (even though it didn’t quite stick). He shared with me his love of the Deaf community and introduced me to American Sign Language. He was always so supportive of my endeavors, and he never missed any of my extra-curricular performances – sports, recitals or plays. He always showed up with enthusiasm and encouragement, usually donning his trademark overalls and a bicycle hat.  As a man with a strong dedication to his faith and community, he instilled in me the importance of being kind to others – always – and to proactively find ways to give back to those who needed it the most. Although it’s hard not to feel bitter about the fact that cancer stole so much time I feel like we deserved to spend together, I’m thankful for every precious moment I had with him. Because of these memories, I continue to feel his presence in my life today.   

How? Well, he wasn’t there when I graduated high school, but my whole family stood up and embarrassed me with cowbells and applause to celebrate when my name was called. I felt his presence then. He wasn’t there to accompany me down the aisle at my wedding, but my mom and I walked side-by-side while his favorite Alison Krauss song resounded throughout my childhood church. I felt his presence then. He wasn’t there the day my son was born, but the same week I gave birth, a lost container of film showed up with never-before-seen photographs of him holding me on the day I took my first breath. I felt his presence then.  

I feel his presence when I witness my sister’s selfless love for those less fortunate. I feel his presence when my brother strums his guitar and sings a bluegrass tune. I feel his presence when I see someone interpreting for a Deaf audience. And I feel his presence when my family gathers together for the holiday season. 

Yes, Dan Mink is gone, but his presence and influence as a father, a counselor, and a community member is not. Since his passing, I’ve had countless interactions with those who knew him in some capacity, and I’m always reminded of the profound and lasting impact he had on others. These conversations encourage me to live my life in such a way that I am also remembered for putting service before self and that I leave behind such a legacy of love.   

The moments I shared with my father as a child didn’t disappear when he passed away.

They continue to shape who I am and bring me joy as I experience daily reminders of his presence in my life. Over the past year, I’ve had the opportunity to learn more about the great work being done through Summit Quest, an organization whose remarkable mission is to provide strength, hope and service to children and families affected by cancer. As someone who faced these challenges as a child, I’m so thankful for individuals like William James who selflessly dedicate themselves to serving others, fostering meaningful connections and creating adventure for those who need it most. These relationships, adventures and acts of kindness – these critically important moments experienced by those who otherwise might feel alone, scared and disconnected – will undoubtedly become lasting memories that shape participants and bring joy for a lifetime.