Every year, I write an annual review—a look back at the year that was and a plan for the year ahead.
Well, except last year. And, apparently, this year. Twenty Twenty-Four. Woof.
Sure, I could look back and pick out moments that made me smile, milestones worth celebrating. But let’s be real: 2024 will always be the year we lost our boy. Everything else feels like static that doesn’t bear much reflection. There were peaks and valleys, as there always are, but none of them matter in the shadow of this mountain of grief. I’m guessing they never will.
My usual annual review breaks into four neat categories: Life, Biz, Fitness, Adventure.
This year, there’s just one.
Shea Thomas Callanan.
That’s the goal this year: 52 days of Shea. Remembering Shea. Honoring him. Living in ways I think he’d love or be proud of.
Roughly once a week, I’ll step out of the grind, out of the noise, and into an adventure. Some will be capital-A adventures—multi-day races, backcountry adventures, generally big undertakings. Others will be small and local, closer to home. Some will be with friends, some with the kids, and some on my own.
I question at times whether ideas like this are truly about him. Or about me. And the truth is. I don’t know.
Here’s the thing I know: When I’m doing something hard, something that pushes me, my overactive, hyper-vigilant brain quiets. I find focus. Clarity. And when I spend time with people who remind me of him, or kids doing things he would have been doing it is hard. But cathartic.
My hope is that these adventures will bring me closer to him. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll nudge others to talk about him too. To remember him with me. Because grief is messy, but life moves forward, one step at a time.
I’ll be documenting each adventure on Instagram with the occasional recap here — If you’ve got an idea for me. Lay it on me. If you’d like to join on an adventure. Just say so.
Just be ready to talk about my boy.
Shea Thomas Callanan, our boy, passed away on October 12th unexpectedly. His epilepsy did not define his life, nor will it define his memory. If you feel inclined, please support Shea’s Play Fund which will be used to make play more accessible wherever it is needed most.
Thanks for taking us along with you in this way, Neil. I found myself being uplifted by your words, even though they must have been written with so much heaviness, considering this ginormous loss. But of course, you were writing about about your boy. So it makes sense. Go tear it up! xo
go017w