Why I Finally Decided to Write AFTER SURVIVAL

Published:
June 2026

Last year, while driving alone to a nearby city, I found myself doing something I suspect most people do from time to time. My mind drifted away from the road ahead and began looking backward instead. I thought about where I had been, the people who had shaped my life, the mistakes I had made, the lessons I had learned, and the events that had altered my path in ways I could never have anticipated at the time.

As those thoughts unfolded, a simple impression came to me with unusual clarity.

You have a story to tell.

At first, I wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. I had never considered myself an author, and I certainly didn't see my life as more important than anyone else's. I've spent most of my life doing what countless other people do. I worked in construction and project management, raised a family, tried to provide for those I love, and did my best to navigate the successes, disappointments, losses, and unexpected turns that come with living a full life. There was nothing about that which seemed particularly extraordinary.

Yet the impression stayed with me.

The more I reflected on it, the more I realized the story wasn't really about me. It wasn't about accomplishments, titles, or experiences that somehow set me apart. It was about what life had taught me through hardship, loss, friendship, faith, forgiveness, and the remarkable people who had crossed my path along the way. It was about the realization that some of the greatest blessings in my life arrived through circumstances I never would have chosen for myself.

When I was ten years old, I suffered a traumatic brain injury that doctors did not expect me to survive. Decades later, one of the surgeons who helped save my life looked at me and said something I will never forget:

“Medically speaking, you should not have survived.”

For many years, I assumed that was the story. It certainly made for the dramatic part of it. People hear about a childhood accident like that and naturally focus on the event itself. I did the same thing for a long time. But as I began reflecting more deeply, I came to understand that the accident was really just the opening chapter.

The more meaningful story was everything that happened afterward.

It was the people who showed up when they didn't have to. It was parents who carried burdens they never asked for, friends who remained loyal through difficult seasons, mentors who quietly changed the direction of my life, and family members who taught me lessons they may never have realized they were teaching.

It was learning that forgiveness is usually more difficult than anger, but infinitely more valuable. It was discovering that accountability brings peace far more often than blame ever does. It was realizing that faith is often strengthened not during life's easiest moments, but during the seasons when we are forced to keep moving forward without seeing the entire path ahead.

As I worked on this memoir, I found myself revisiting experiences that stretched across nearly six decades. Some brought laughter. Some brought gratitude. Some reopened wounds I thought had long since healed.

More than once I found myself reflecting on people who had entered my life for only a short period of time yet left a lasting impact that continued to shape me years later. Looking back, I could see connections that were completely invisible while I was living them. Events that once felt random now seemed linked together. Hardships that once felt unfair often became the very experiences that taught me the lessons I needed most.

One of the themes that surfaced again and again was gratitude.

Not gratitude because every experience was pleasant or because every outcome was what I hoped for, but gratitude because even life's most difficult chapters often carried gifts I was unable to recognize at the time.

Looking forward, I rarely saw them.

Looking backward, they were often impossible to miss.

That realization changed the way I view both my own life and the lives of others.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that every person is carrying a story we know very little about. We often see a mistake, a weakness, a poor decision, or perhaps the worst moment of someone's life and assume we understand who they are.

The truth is that we usually don't.

We haven't carried their burdens. We haven't experienced their disappointments. We haven't fought their battles. What we can do is offer understanding, compassion, and the same grace we hope others will extend to us when we inevitably fall short ourselves.

If there is one thing I hope my grandchildren take away from this book, it is this:

People matter more than being right.

I hope they learn not to judge others too quickly and to remember that every person has struggles that may not be visible from the outside. I hope they understand that families can survive hard things, friendships can survive hard things, and communities can survive hard things when people choose to stand together rather than apart.

Most of all, I hope they learn that love, patience, and kindness are rarely wasted.

And if a stranger happens to pick up this book, I hope they come away with something similar.

I hope they see that life, despite its challenges, is still filled with goodness. I hope they are reminded that there are remarkable people all around us, often doing quiet things that never make headlines but change lives nonetheless.

I hope they see that hardship does not have to define the rest of our story and that some of our greatest growth comes from learning how to move forward after life has knocked us down.

The title AFTER SURVIVAL grew out of that idea.

Many people survive difficult things. They survive accidents, illnesses, grief, betrayal, failure, addiction, and loss. Survival is important, but it is rarely the end of the story.

The question that interests me most is what happens afterward.

How do we live?

How do we grow?

How do we choose to treat others?

How do we use the years we have been given?

This memoir is my attempt to answer those questions through the experiences of one imperfect man who has spent a lifetime learning that even in the hardest moments, there is usually more to be grateful for than we first realize.

Stories Matter. Legacies Last.™