I’ve lived 18,588 days, and four of them stand out. Three of those days are filled with joy, while one brought a profound challenge that has forever changed me. Last week, I missed writing to you because I was grappling with that fourth day—August 13, 2024, the day my dad passed away.
Let me start with the great days, the ones that have shaped my life in the best possible ways. The first was August 31, 1996, the day Anne and I married. It was a warm, wonderful summer day, marking the beginning of everything that matters. Anne became my partner in every sense, sharing the joys and challenges of life with unwavering support.
The next two days that stand out are the days our children, Ezdon and Tess, were born. Watching them grow, seeing them take on life’s challenges, and imagining the incredible futures ahead of them—that’s what fills me with hope and excitement for the days to come. They’re a constant reminder of why we push forward, eager to see how their lives will unfold.
But then there’s that fourth day. August 13, 2024. The hardest day of my life. Losing my dad felt like the ground beneath me had been pulled away. My dad wasn’t just a father; he was my friend, my mentor, my business partner, my co-worker, and my life coach. He was the rock upon which I’ve built so much of who I am.
Last Friday, I couldn’t find the words to reach out. I was in a state of disbelief, feeling as though everything I thought was solid had suddenly crumbled. But as time passes, healing has begun, slowly but surely. And with that healing comes a renewed sense of purpose. I realize now that my drive to succeed, both in life and on the farm, has only grown stronger. I want to honor Dad’s life by continuing what we built together, with even more determination.
While going through old photos for the gathering, I came across a picture Dad took—a peaceful morning scene from his little secret getaway, looking out over the creek on one of our farms. It was just a quick shot from his phone, but when I saw it, something clicked. I understood perfectly why he took that picture. In that moment, I felt deeply connected to him, reminded that at our core, we were so alike.
Thank you for your understanding, and for allowing me to share this personal part of my life with you. The farm will keep moving forward, as Dad would have wanted. And so will I, with his memory as a guide.
Your Farmer,
Proudly Deans Son,
Rod
Eighteen Thousand Five Hundred and Eighty-Eight Days
