First, if you’ve lost a child (or someone you love deeply), allow me to say I’m so sorry for your loss, because we are part of a club no one on this Earth ever wants to join. There’s simply no way to get over the loss of someone as precious as your child. When they were alive, and even now that they’re gone, they remain life itself to us. I know there’s not much that can take away the heartache, but here’s one place where I’ve found joy, and it returns every year as March approaches.

Her last Christmas present to me (Dec. 2007) was a beautiful “time with Daddy” ticket. It was thoughtful and sweet, and I’m grateful I thought creatively about how to redeem it. As she was 13, I treasured our one-on-one outings: sharing pecan desserts, asking questions, listening to what mattered most to her, and simply taking the time to bless her. Leslie and I had decided long before she and Gabriel (her younger brother by four years) were born that we wanted to be intentional about creating those moments.

At the time, we lived in Hattiesburg, Mississippi (2008), and I thought: we both love basketball, she’s playing basketball in school, so where is the nearest NCAA Women’s Basketball Tournament?  I found out there was a Session One playoff round at LSU in Baton Rouge, and Session Two was scheduled for New Orleans the following weekend, about 2½ hours and 1¾ hours away, respectively. Leslie supported the idea, so I bought the tickets.

For two straight weekends, driving to and from Baton Rouge and then New Orleans, I spent precious time with my sweetheart. We shared laughter, conversation, enjoyed great basketball, and quiet moments. I remember looking over at this beautiful young woman God had entrusted to us as she slept on the ride back to Hattiesburg, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for the time we were given and the sweet human being she had become.

Months earlier, I had told my wife that once Marissa got her driver’s license, we would begin to “lose her” to her friends, so we needed to savor our time with her now. Leslie did just that, taking a February road trip to Jacksonville, Florida, and a mother-daughter conference/cruise to the Bahamas. We were deeply thankful that we each had meaningful, one-on-one time with her…because she was gone by May of that year.

So every March, when Madness approaches, I look to see where the NCAA Women’s Basketball Tournament will be played. Living in Dallas, I’m often fortunate to have games nearby. My good friend Thomas, whom I worked with in Mississippi and one of the biggest LSU fans you’ll ever meet, often joins me. He was with Marissa and me in New Orleans for Session Two, where we watched Sylvia Fowles lead LSU to victory in 2008.

Knowing how significant these games are to me, and because we both love women’s sports, Thomas will travel to Dallas, and we’ll attend a few WNBA games each year. I often imagine that if Marissa were here, she would still be joining us, because she loved those moments too. In our own way, Leslie, Gabriel, and I continue to spend time with her, and I’m grateful they support me by going to the college and professional games that remind us of that season of life.

Whenever I drive to the arena, Marissa rides with me. When the tip-off begins, I feel the same excitement and joy I felt in 2008, almost as if she never left. As a father still grieving the loss of his sweetheart and basketball star, I can’t fully describe what those memories mean. Just as there are no words for the depth of loss, there are few words to capture the happiness I feel sitting in those stands. That’s why I keep going. Yes, the basketball is phenomenal, and I love watching the athletes, but there’s also something immaterial and immeasurable present for me there. Marissa is there with me. My prayer is that if you’ve lost a child, I hope you have, or will discover meaningful ways to connect with them, to feel their presence, because we need those sacred moments.

This year, the NCAA WBB Regional Finals are in Ft. Worth, and I’ve purchased my tickets for Session One and Session Two. So sweetheart, I have our ticket, and I look forward to spending the weekend with you. I love you so much!

Dad

Dr. Ken McGill, LMFT is the author of the Cultivating Love book series and is a private-practice clinician who delivers telehealth services statewide in California and Texas, with in-person sessions in Plano, Texas. Dr. McGill could be reached at www.drkenmcgill.com or drkenmcgill@live.com.