Todd Lance Dorius 1961-2013

There is no easy way to approach this subject, so I will just out and say it: my Dad passed away 3 weeks ago very unexpectedly. He was up at out cabin at Bear Lake with a bunch of our family when he just fell over and died. It sounds so blunt to say it like that, but it is exactly what happened. I was just sitting at work one Friday afternoon when I got a call from my Aunt that he had collapsed. I tried to stay and work until I heard more, but after wandering around the office for 3 minutes like a zombie from Walking Dead, I realized that working through it wasn't an option. I left the office and within 20 minutes I got the follow up call that the life flight had arrived and pronounced him dead. I can't even put into words what it was like to hear those words on the phone. I hung up, made some shaky phone calls to my brothers, my Dad's brother, a few friends, and my aunt to tell her I was coming over. Then I lost it. I cried in the most broken way I have ever cried. I could not understand how this could happen to my family and how I was going to be okay.

I waited for everyone to arrive home from the cabin and tried to keep myself busy with anything. The kind texts and calls poured in and my heart filled with love for everyone who sent them. When the family arrived it broke my heart to put my arms around my 12 year old brother, knowing he had just watched his Dad die. My 18 year old brother couldn't look anyone in the eye and I saw a broken look in his face that I had never seen. The rest of the night was a blur. Lots of tears and discussion of next steps, with truth be told, I couldn't even address. When the topic of meeting with the funeral director came up, I freaked out and said I needed to go to yoga. That was my priority then: yoga.

I went home that night and wrote my Dad's obituary. How do you sum up your father's life in 3 paragraphs? It was a weird moment. I drove to yoga the next morning where I parked my car in an alley and cried while a homeless man watched on. I made 20 minutes in that yoga class before I left in a tearful mess because the teacher tried to help me with my arm position. I walked around the mall and saw lime green everywhere. My Dad loved lime green. I had this moment after the 4th person in a lime green shirt that I knew it was time for me to buck up. I spent that day meeting with the mortician, picking his casket, planning his funeral, revising the obituary, meeting with his bishop, etc. It should be noted that I attended all of those meetings in my yoga clothes because that was the form my grief took. I was admittedly ill-equipped to deal with any of this emotionally or mentally, so that was my excuse for staying in yoga clothes while I met with a religious leader 6 hours after I had stormed out of a yoga class in tears.



The funeral came and went and was so perfect. There were more laughs than tears, and it was exactly what my Dad would have wanted. I only had a few minor breakdowns when I saw a book he used to teach me how to draw as a child, or when I listened to the word of the song "Goodnight my Angel" by Billy Joel (one of his favorites), or when I had to go to the funeral home to preview the body, or when the entire Skyline Lacrosse team showed up in their matching polos to hug my Mom and brother. Okay, so there were a lot of breakdowns. But there was a lot of positive moments as well. In the loss, I was able to think back on everything my Dad did right in my life and realize he was always the best Dad he knew how to be. He worked to try and involve his kids in his hobbies, as evident by the kids drawing book. He loved us unconditionally. He did not care what we did with our lives, there was never any judgement or prodding to be anything else. All he ever wanted was for us to be happy and whatever that meant, he was on board with it.

So that is what I am attempting to do in my life now. I still have my bad days where I realize he's gone; that he'll never get to walk me down the aisle when I get married, or see his grandkids, but for the most part I feel strangely okay. I feel like I am coming out of this with a greater understanding of who he was, who I am, and who I need to be for him. I have to remind myself often that the last thing he would want would be for me or my brothers to be a sad, balled up mess, sitting in our rooms feeling depressed and missing him. He would want us to be out having fun, laughing, meeting people, and just feeling happy.



As time marches on, I started to feel him slipping away. Each day he's gone a little more and that is a hard feeling to be okay with. I can't really put into words what it feels like to wake up and know a little more is gone. I decided I needed a permanent reminder of him, so a few days ago I got his initials tattooed on my wrist. They aren't just any initials, it is the exact signature he used to sign the artwork he did. He happened to have the signature scanned in on his computer, so I was able to print it out and take it to Lost Art and have them replicate it on my body. I am absolutely in love with it and for me it is a way that my Dad will still get to be present at my wedding or the birth of my kids or any other big life event. Every time I look down at it, I smile and think about how perfect it is to have that reminder.




I have a lot of love in my life. In the days and weeks after this event, I was overwhelmed by the support I felt from so many friends and family members. Flowers, cards, hugs, meals, laughs, ears to listen, hands to hold, and so many other special things. The details about next steps are still being worked out, but I really feel like I am a stronger person from this. I saw what I am capable of and how strong I can be. I will be moving home for a while to help my Mom and brother do the same. It isn't fair that any of this happened, but I truly believe the best way to honor my Dad is by working hard to not let this drag us down. One day at a time.