But I'd like to take a moment to introduce to you a very special man who experienced his greatest thrills in the simple pleasures he found in nature. My father-in-law, Terry Safford, was a 76-year-old retired Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force. He was an avid outdoorsman and absolutely treasured his time spent in Colorado and Alaska—or anywhere outside, for that matter, even his own backyard.
Terry was happiest when sailing his boat at Carlyle Lake in southern Illinois, hitting the freshly powdered slopes at Breckenridge or Keystone, camping in Missouri, or taking a scenic Colorado mountain hike in the middle of spring. I had the pleasure of sharing one of these hikes with him several years ago, and it was a truly incredible experience—one of my favorite days ever. On a lazier day you'd likely catch Terry at home in his easy chair, taking in some college football on TV or a beautiful concerto on his Bose radio, with his favorite cat in his lap.
He also loved to travel, and I suspect he sometimes enjoyed the drive itself more than what awaited him at his destination. That passion for driving...That one I'll never understand. I'm envious of it, because all I ever want to do after being behind the wheel for more than a couple of hours is to take a nap. This man was like a robot in the driver's seat. No matter the time, day or night, he could plop in that seat and drive for eight to ten hours straight with only a few minor "potty breaks." And he could do the whole thing in silence. It was a sight to behold.
Terry was recently struck down by cancer a couple weeks shy of his 77th birthday. It hit him pretty hard and fast. He was skiing in Colorado in February, and now he's just...gone.
He taught me a lot over the past 20 years or so, but the last thing Terry taught me was that despite its incredible and at times miraculous range of practical uses, there are two things duct tape can't fix: cancer, and a broken heart. The latter only time will mend. Hopefully one day we will be able to do something about the former, because what that wonderful man went through during his last days is something I'd never wish on my worst enemy.
I've been married to his daughter for over 20 years now, and that's nearly half of my life. Aside from immediate family, I haven't known too many people for that long who still have a regular presence in my life. Terry's passing is really the hardest loss I've had to face so far. It's not easy to deal with the loss of a loved one. I can do my best to honor his memory and his legacy in the way I live my life and treat others.
I can stop and smell the flowers on the breeze or watch it ripple through the leaves on the trees. I can listen to the call of the birds or the lapping of the waves on a lake's shore. I can spend more time in my own yard, trying to approximate the wondrous and mysterious things he must have done to achieve such a thick, verdant lawn of his own.
Terry touched everyone he met with his love of nature, his fabulous sense of humor, his kindness and his wisdom. He will be missed more than he could ever imagine. It comforts me somewhat to visualize Terry placing a new stone atop a cairn on a cloud-covered peak he's reaching for the first time.
