May I remain Thankful

Let may be the month I remember gratitude in my upbringing. When I reflect on the people who’ve shaped me most, two names rise above all others—my parents. And today, I especially want to honor my dad.

From the very beginning, both of my parents have been all-in. They were there for every extracurricular activity I tried—cheering me on from the sidelines, picking me up when I was discouraged, and showing up. They didn’t have to rearrange an already full schedule. We were first, and their schedule revolved around that. They didn’t just support my interests—they shared them. And that kind of involvement made me believe that what I cared about mattered.

My parents never had much in terms of material wealth, but they gave so generously from what they did have. They shared their home, their time, their energy, and their hearts. When I needed a place to land, they welcomed me without hesitation. Living with them during pivotal times in my life has been more than just convenient—it’s been grounding.

What amazes me most is the way they bent over backwards to give us rich experiences. I’ve seen more of America than most people I know. I’ve walked the streets of cities across the globe, all because my parents believed that travel was an education in itself. Those memories—of long road trips, tight budgeting, and out-of-the-box exploration—are among the most treasured chapters of my life.

And then there’s something I’m particularly thankful for—how my dad was unknowingly pivotal to my massage career. He timed his knee replacement surgery perfectly with a stage in my training where I could create an informed treatment plan. Working with him wasn’t just practice—it was a formative experience. I saw firsthand how my skills could ease someone’s recovery, and more importantly, how healing can be deeply personal when it’s rooted in care. That experience helped shape not just my technique, but my confidence and purpose in this career.

Without that instrumental training, I’m not sure my commitment to education would be quite what it is today. The lack of resources in how to work with a joint replacement was the motivation I needed to create my own lesson in working with this population-among 600,000 who receive knee replacements annually. My father, never one to be shy about his own health, brags about his bionic knees. In the months following his surgery, he was quick to zip off his pants into shorts to show off his scars. Never afraid to show off his new moves on his new knees. My parents, my biggest critics and my biggest supporters.

Recently, life gave us a jolt. On April 10, I got a call that no one ever wants to receive—my dad had suffered a heart attack. By some combination of strength, grace, and stubborn resilience, he’s doing well. He’s moving around, recovering, and still cracking the same corny jokes that only he finds hilarious. And I’m so, so grateful.

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Truly. His presence in my life has been a constant source of strength, humor, and perspective. Dad, thank you for everything—for your sacrifices, your love, your support, and your belief in me. I carry your influence with me every day.

And Mom, thank you for being the heart of our home and for loving us all so fiercely.

You both gave me more than I could ever repay.