This article is part of Finding the Words, a newsletter that delivers practical insights on the day’s issues.

On the morning of Sunday, October 29, my father, Paul J. Forti, passed away. He lived 74 years, and according to most, a very full and healthy 74 at that. He had just returned from a visit to Sicily, where he had retraced the steps of his grandparents. He texted photos of his hike up Mt. Etna and shared how he was exploring the countryside for places to stay when he next returned. He messaged to say, “Sicily is magical.” I’m glad he had that experience because just two weeks later, he suffered a severe heart attack from which he would not recover.
 
Over the last two weeks, with Dad in the hospital and me by his side, I reflected deeply on the lessons he taught me in my 45 years: the many lessons he taught with intention and the lessons he taught by accident, too.
 
In recent years, I had come to believe that there was not much more I could learn from Dad. We didn’t always see eye to eye, and I sometimes struggled to see him as a role model. I thought I knew better and how wrong I was. Over these last two weeks, I discovered that Dad still had many lessons he wanted to teach me and that I needed to learn from him.
 
While I’ll save most of them for sharing with my family in the coming weeks, there is one lesson that I wanted to share this morning, even while I remain on leave through the end of this week.
 
There are people in our lives who— for one reason or another— we believe we can’t learn from. Maybe we think we’re smarter, we’re kinder, we’re more in touch or in tune with a situation, or we’re just plain right, and somehow, they’re not. It is in these moments that an opportunity for communication and deeper connection exists: an opportunity to listen closer, to understand more, and to learn something, even when we think there’s nothing left to learn.
 
Dad left before I was ready.  And I won’t have more chances to learn from him. But I do know this: Every day, we have a choice: to learn from the people around us or to assume we know better.
 
Choose to learn.
Choose to listen.
Choose to be there.
 
And perhaps, choose to start today.
 
We can’t turn back time, but we can progress forward. So, if there is a person you believe you’re done learning from, I invite you to reach out to them today. Tell them that you were thinking about them. And then listen closely to whatever they have to share. You may be surprised by how much there is left to learn.
 
With love.

Carrie

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