I don’t know where to start in describing what Dad meant to me. As with both of my wonderful parents, Dad wore a lot of hats that changed as I grew into a functioning adult. He was a Father, Friend, Advisor, Counselor, and often both Companion and Champion alongside me through some challenging times and adventures. When I was younger, I had a lot of crippling phobias. Fear of the dark, fear of spiders, fear of open water – Dad walked with me through my many (and sometimes very public) meltdowns, breakdowns, and paranoia-induced habits. As a parent, he often seemed to have an unending well of patience and wisdom. And for a long time in my life, he stood as the bulwark of reason and logic against which anxieties would break and fade away. He had a way of talking me through things and reassuring me of the distinction between imagination and reality, and that he was there with me.

We shared a deep and abiding love of History, Movies, and the Great Outdoors. We had many fond memories of visiting museums or going on backpacking trips deep into the forests and wildernesses of California. No adventure was too minor for him to tackle, and in our explorations sometimes a bike trip to San Jose on a new path could be just as exciting as a journey deep into the mountains. He had a spirit of curiosity and adventure that I deeply admired from a young age and wished to emulate in my own life. He had a spatial mind and a talent for fixing things. He was a tinkerer and a problem solver. He read voraciously and there were precious few topics that he could not bring something of interest to the table. Yet, he was humble enough to admit when he simply didn’t know. When something was outside his area or if a new perspective was offered, he would listen. And, if you had a good enough argument – you could even change his mind. He loved movies and shows and was often deeply moved by a good story. He dreamed in black and white, as if through the framing of his childhood television. He loved the behind the scenes extras on movies, and of my rather odd career choice and progression, he expressed steady pride and encouragement when he could so easily have tried to sway me to a different path. To my memory, I don’t recall him ever expressing being worried about my future. And in a funny way, it is Stories and movies were what we had left when all else had been stripped away. When he could no longer travel, in the hospital, we listened to his stories and recorded them. when he could no longer walk, a couple of days before he passed, and the last time I saw him before his final day – we all watched ‘Godzilla Minus One’ together around his bed and had our last family movie night. He said it was now one of his very favorites.

Dad certainly wasn’t a man without his myriad of flaws, But these cast a relatively short shadow in comparison to the radiance of what he brought to life. He had eccentricities and shortcomings, and At this promontory of reflection, they hardly seem to be worth noting in the picture. His flaws I forgive, and for his strengths, I will remember very fondly. I mourn that he is no longer with me. I mourn that he is no longer here for my Mom and my Sister. I mourn for the trips we dreamed of together but will never go on. I mourn as well for my friends who saw Dad as a gentle father figure in their own lives. And for all my immediate and extended family who saw Dad as a loved one as well. I mourn for the fact that he will never hold his future grandkids. I mourn that he didn’t get to retire and enjoy the fruits of his labor. I mourn that he did not get to travel the world as much as he wanted. I mourn that he struggled to make friends after moving to Los Angeles. I mourn that I can’t give him any more hugs.
Observing Dad’s treatment over the years from close and afar, he never seemed to lose his spirit. He leaned into life even though he had many obstacles imposed by chemotherapy, surgeries, and treatments. I think his buoyancy came from his deep faith that he would continue to live and enjoy life. Perhaps this attitude of invincibility and faith in his continuance led me to deeply believe that his end would never really come. That the years would tick by and that by the intervention of medicine or the Almighty, Dad would be healed. To me, his condition always seemed like it was a terrible possibility for the distant future rather than a debilitating everyday condition.

Perhaps that is odd, because the type of cancer Dad had, (bile duct) has a survival range typically measured in months, not years. I didn’t actually know about that survival rate until very recently, but thanks to the efforts of his doctors and the provision of our Creator, he lived over 13 years past his diagnosis.

And during that time we enjoyed life, we went on trips, played games around the dinner table, watched movies, and saw friends and family. What a gift to be given such an immense extension of life. I think very often about it how it could’ve been. Perhaps in some far darker reality, Dad would have passed away during my sophomore year of high school. I can’t even fathom how different life would have been.

I’m grateful for every moment we had. Many people don’t get that kind of time. By Donating a unit of blood, you can help someone like me buy some months, some years, some days with a loved one. Perhaps you can relieve symptoms or be a therapy for someone suffering from cancers even more severe than his own. Perhaps your donation will even skip cancer patients and go straight to the ER to straight up save lives. My Father, through his life taught me about courage and curiosity. In his honor, I ask you to embrace these values and be curious in trying this out, and courageous in following through with it! Thank you for your time, and your donation. Peace, be with you.

– Elliott Mitchell

We’ve made it to 20!!

Posted on: September 28, 2024

Wow!! over 20 units have been volunteered by friends and family of Keith. What an incredible Start. I am blown a way by the kindness and generosity of every single one of you. We are past the amount of blood he received in the Hospital and that feels really good. We are going to save some lives!! We have a ways to go toward the goal, 150 units was ambitious from the start but I have faith. In the meantime, I have a little story;

Dad and I would hike often in the woods, and often up some steep slopes and mountains. We’d get tired and worn out on our way, and stop for a break. One time on a hike up Mount Tamalpais, I was done. I asked if we could turn around and go back to the cars, as I was exhausted. He handed me his trail food and said “We can take a break, are we can take our time. But let’s finish this thing. I think a win will be worth the wear” He was full of aphorisms like that. But he was right, taking lots of breaks we made it to the top, and that view was worth it.

I envision this as a bit of a hike. we have a steep slope to climb to reach 150 units, and I tell myself that it is alright if we don’t make it. But we will keep trying, keep spreading the word. Take our time, and lots of breaks. Collectively we will get there. And truly I think, this win will be worth our wears. Thanks again for joining us on this journey. May peace be with you, – Elliott