Excuses

I've had adventures recently. Really, I swear. Legitimate adventures in far off and wonderful places. But I haven't sat down and written about them yet. I'll get around to it soon. I promise.

To hold you over, here's a preview of what's to come (I lied. It's not coming).

We went on holiday to Bonaire with Ev's dad, stepmom and aunt. Which was awesome.

And of course, it's springtime in the Netherlands.

On a personal level, I started an actual fire (complete with flames. It was a small fire, I promise) in the lab, had one of the worst days I can recall (everything is broken. Literally everything. I punched a wall and it helped), managed to swear in three languages in one breath in front of a group of visiting researchers (oops), and finally replaced my running shoes.

Exciting stuff.

Soooooo stay tuned?

Loss of a great man

A great man died today. Master Larry Wick, my karate instructor, a role model, an inspiration, a mentor, a man who played a crucial role in shaping who I am today. He was passionate about his students. He was demanding. He commanded respect. He expected you to give your absolute best, 100% of the time. He taught me to own my accomplishments, to put in the effort and try my hardest. This was a man you wanted to make proud.

Master Wick gave me the confidence to know myself and strive to be better.

His death is a blow to everyone he taught. He was compassionate, caring, and strong. He refused to take any shit and held us accountable for our actions. He died on his own terms. 

It is a testament to him that his students reached out to those of us who have moved away to keep us informed of his illness, his decision to stop chemo and move to Minnesota to be with his family, to deliver a letter to him. I hope he knew how big a role he played in many of our lives, but when he said goodbye to his students, both past and present, he spoke of his pride in us, in our accomplishments. He was, among many, many things, humble.

Knowing he is no longer in pain and died knowing he was loved is a small comfort. It feels like a hole has opened in my chest, knowing he has passed on and I never had the chance to thank him in person for playing such a part in my life. 

The letter I sent him when Jen told me he was going home to die feels deeply personal, but a sentiment I know is echoed by those he touched. And I suppose all I can do now is try to make him proud, wherever he might be.

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Dear Master Wick,

You always told us to make you proud. If we worked hard, listened, and did our absolute best (in

every aspect of our lives), we could succeed - a very powerful philosophy that has served me

well. In fact, my Dad likes it so much that he still says it, both to us kids and his patients.

I wish I could be there in person to say goodbye. Unfortunately, I’m living in the Netherlands

right now and won’t be back to Alaska in time to do so. So this letter will have to do.

I wanted to thank you for teaching me the power of hard work and perseverance; teaching me to

push past my limits and go further and harder than I thought possible (although I suppose that

was the point of the Black Belt test… which still ranks among the most physically and mentally

draining experiences of my life, and that includes a couple marathons and moving across the

world), that excuses cheapen the experience and hold you back. I count myself lucky to have had

the honour to be taught by you. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving me the

tools I needed to succeed.

Best wishes,

Amy