When I was growing up I always had so much to say and the best advice that I had ever received was from my dad. He would say, "Well, you should go and write that down."

So I did.

This began my constant on and off again compiling of notebooks filled with whatever was on my mind. From the political injustices of the world, to how my boyfriend, at the time, was a heartless, wienie. To love sick poems, filled with the pondering of life.

My dad was not one for idle chit-chat. Which was why, more than likely, he told me to "write it down", when I had his ear. Oddly enough, it was the best medicine for my over-active mind. Writing, no matter what it was about, helped me clear my head. It gave me the opportunity to get out whatever was ailing me. It allowed me to read through my thoughts and move onto the next "big thing".

Three years ago, I lost my dad to cancer. I was with him through his illness, until he took his last breath. Very hard and extremely sad, as one can imagine.

I was forced to look back, over the years of my childhood and young adult life. Smile and take joy from all the happiness and triumphs I had experienced. Shake my head and sometimes cry over the mistakes I had made, the not-so-smart paths I had chosen to walk.

But what can you do? That is what life is made of. It's made up of all the laughter and tears we share. It's also made from all the laughter and tears we keep to ourselves.

When my dad realized that his time was approaching, we talked more openly than in all our years together. He told me about all of his joys. He cried about all of his mistakes. He was determined to impart to me all that he had learned over his life. I guess he knew at one point I would "write it down". I would have to write, in order to read through, to move forward and he knew this.

My dad ran his own business for more than half his life. He was up before the sun and he worked until it went down. The only day of the week my dad did not work was Sunday. Not for religious reasons did he rest on this day. As a matter of fact, he never rested. He just did not "work" on this day.

Instead, on Sunday my dad would wake everyone up and pile us in the car. He never seemed to have a plan, he just drove. Where ever we ended up, that is where we were going. As a family, we could find ourselves at the Jersey Shore and my dad would decide to rent a small plane. That way we could cruise the shore-line from the air. We could wind up at the Bridgeton Zoo where my dad would rent canoes for us to go down the waterway. We would travel down to Delaware State Park, have a picnic and learn how to bet the horses. The Poconos for a walk across a damn, through the woods. Target practice at a shooting range. Fishing on a lake we came across while off-roading in the Pine Barrens, or fishing for shark on a charted boat.

There was no telling what any given Sunday would bring, only that it was going to an adventure.

But, there is a lesson here. You see, for me and my siblings we learned that hard work would never hurt. Work hard. Never say I can't. If you don't know, learn and do. However, after you have put in your time working....Play. Play hard and with the ones you love. You don't need to plan everything. Sometimes the greatest adventure is the one that you haven't planned for. See where life takes you, that is the adventure.

However, that is not what my dad wanted me to learn. In the end, it turned out that there was a bigger picture. Much broader than my childhood eyes could see.

Yes, my dad taught me to work hard. I learned that well. As a matter of fact, people would say that I may have learned it too well. That I am unable to relax. That is partly true. The whole truth is that I can't relax unless I feel as though I have somehow earned it. It's quite a conundrum, because for me, I have a hard time deciding when I have earned it. Is forty hours enough? I still have so much more I can do. How about 60 hours? I have been known to work over 80 hours in a week for months at a time. Only realizing, heartbroken and guilt ridden that I forgot to play. Most shameful, I forgot to play with my loved ones. Oh sure, my bosses were happy and wanted more. But my family, they just missed me. It's when a look back that I see what I missed.

I will never forget the day I came upon my dad sitting in the bed of one of his work trucks. I was taken back, because at the time my dad had barely enough energy to walk around his property, not to mention he was quite unstable on his feet. But, there he was, just sitting in the back of that truck. He invited me to join him and so I did. He started to talk to me about how work was going for me. I began to tell him about this and that, when he started sifting through some tools and such.

"You see this bolt cutter", he said. "The only difference from this one is that it can do this". And he proceeded to demonstrate.

"This one cost $145.00 and this on only $50.00, but they do just about the same thing." Then my dad proceeded to go through the majority of tools, nuts, bolts etc. that he used in his day to day business in the same manner. Demonstrating or detailing each thing he laid his hands upon.

"You know what all this is Debbie....All this is nothing. It's worthless to me now."

I didn't really know how to respond and my dad went to get down off the truck. I helped him to the ground and he asked me to walk with him, so I did.

We walked around in almost complete silence. He walked me to the back of his yard where his shed was and more trucks and such.

"All of this Debbie, all of this is junk." He said. "It means nothing in the end".

I looked around to all of my dad tools, what was essentially all he used to run his business. A business that he created, worked and always seemed so proud of while I was growing up. It was his life...Or so I thought.

It was heartbreaking for me to hear him speak these words. I felt helpless in his despair. I knew that there was just simply nothing I could do or say to ease this burden he seemed to be carrying.

I was there that day, after working that morning in my own business, to cut the grass he was unable to maintain on his own. Instead, we just sat on his deck and talked about the grand kids, our lives, growing up and fond memories. As hard as that day was both mentally and emotionally, it somehow, in the end, became a very relaxing day for me.

On that day, I learned the lesson my dad truly meant to teach me growing up. It wasn't until after my dad passed, a few weeks later, when I looked back and I caught the lesson.

The lesson is this. You can work hard, your whole life. You can acquire security, status, wealth, things. However, in the end, what did you really get? At the sacrifice of time with your loved ones, with yourself...You have nothing.

That's not to say that working is not important. One cannot survive without the means to live. However, living to work...Well, that is just waisted time.

My life now? Try to work less...A lot less. That is easier said then done sometimes for me, and I am still learning how to accomplish it. However, thanks to my loved ones' constant vigil, I know it's not impossible. Try to just enjoy life as it is, not as I imagine it should be. To grasp and hold onto the adventure. Lastly, yet the most important thing is to try and pass THIS lesson, NOT the one I had been so unfortunatly mistaken, onto my children before anymore waisted time goes by for me or for them.