This guest blog is written by David, Michael’s son. He wanted me to share it with you so you can see Michael’s strengths, but also as a reminder to show the love you have. Do not assume you will always get tomorrow.

Assumption

by David Hunter

As humans, when we go to bed, most of us assume we will have another day tomorrow. We will just wake up again and have another day. We say it to our loved ones “See you tomorrow.” or “Chat soon.” Because of this assumption, we put off the visit or the tough conversations for another day.

However, the only thing that isn’t guaranteed is time. Time to reconcile, time to laugh together, time to patch things up. It’s why we often put things off, assuming we can do it at another time. Why we say, “Oh, I can just do that tomorrow.” And inevitably tomorrow turns into days, weeks, months, or sometimes years. That’s what I thought when I got the initial call about my dad — Oh I can delay the visit two days until after the neighborhood dinner party we’re hosting. But things suddenly declined, reminding me, yet again, time isn’t always on our side.

I’m not a big believer in serendipity — just ask my family, who watches me quietly nod in agreement when they point out all the things around us that are signs. But even, I, the skeptic, have to say there have been so many signs since Dad has passed. The orange traffic cones in weird places, the butterfly outside his hospital window on the 10th floor, the neighbor’s card with a cardinal on it, a meteor shower days after his passing, a family member’s already-planned trip to a place he had always wanted to go. Now, the realization that I’m sitting here writing this at the exact table at Eola General that I sat at with his dad, my grandfather, days before his passing in an eerily similar traumatic situation. It’s hard to deny these ‘winks’ even for me.

I am reminded to be thankful for the times I did have with him when I hear the stories of his generosity over the past few days. Then the song Kind & Generous “randomly” comes on by Natalie Merchant. I knew when I said, “Goodbye, Dad” at my grandfather’s funeral it was for both of them because I knew in my gut Dad would shortly follow him and because my grandfather was my second Dad. Yet, the same words came out at my Dad’s hospital bedside prior to leaving the room. “Goodbye, Dad.” All of these seemingly odd events remind me of the comfort from loved ones as well as how time changes those who provide comfort to us in our time of need.

It’s hard to think about how to summarize someone’s life and what it meant to you in a small space. While we had our disagreements, there are many memories with him that I’m thankful for — so I wanted to highlight a few things I’ve learned from Dad over the years:

• Enjoying the Outdoors:
  • No, I did not love being a Boy Scout (childhood trauma still exists around hot glue guns, but that’s a different story). But I did love the sense of adventure that came with it — the ability to be off the grid, especially when we went on an annual camping trip. One particular trip, we earned a polar badge, or something similar, because the temperature hovered around freezing nearly the entire trip. Dad was quick to help prepare the fire (and ensure it never went out) to warm everyone up, didn’t complain and taught everyone how to cook their dinner in tin foil.
  • His love of the stars led to him guiding us all in navigation and how to identify specific constellations in the night sky — something he can do once more. It taught me to appreciate the outdoors, as well as the comforts of home you quickly miss when you are out in the wild.
• Love for Travel:
  • There are far too many trips to count, as we were extremely fortunate to be able to travel regularly. In the beginning, we just traveled with him, but eventually he turned me into our family trip planner — requiring a budget, a presentation, and me to argue the pros/cons to him for each trip. That taught me to be able to plan and the importance of attention to detail.
  • I was in high school when we decided to go on a trip to the Fla. Keys for Kara to get scuba certified. Upon check in, the hotel told us that they didn’t have our reservation, I was adamant that we did, presenting our paperwork, only to find out I booked for the NEXT year, which explained why I had found sudden magical availability after four to five attempts with none. Ahh, now I get it! But, Dad was calm. He went with it, and we found ourselves traveling to another hotel to power through the certification.
  • Even after the mishap, he still trusted me to plan several other trips, including two father-son bonding trips. One to Machu Picchu: where we watched the Braves play on his iPhone outside our adobe room, battled stomach bugs after I insisted we eat street corn in Cusco, and dined below the stars and Inca ruins. The other to Morocco: where we were welcome into the warmth of our drivers’ home in the Atlas Mountains, and Dad gave our driver’s kid his sunglasses and his phone to play games, let the boy keep both of them because he was so intrigued by them, rode camels in the desert, meandered through the tanneries and markets of Fes with rooftop dinners, and listened to the call to prayer.
• Providing for Others:
  • A huge portion of Dad’s life was tied to his work — he’d fully admit he was a workaholic. But it was important to him to provide for both his employees and his family. A lot of the stories while we were young came from other coworkers talking about the time spent together and how they admired all three Hunter men — him, his dad and his grandfather. I remember walking through the office as a young kid, always knowing which fridge to grab the Yoo-hoo from and which employees would sneak me the most candy.
  • As I grew up, I worked with him at MasTec with several employees. People knew me as the boss’s son, but also weren’t afraid to go to him to discipline me because he told them not to give me special treatment. As we made calls to those he worked with, it was refreshing to me, now as a business owner myself, to hear from his employees how much they appreciated the way they were treated, the opportunities given that were ahead of their time, and the transparency he always provided. These are all things I try to instill in my own employees knowing how important they were to him. Several previous employees who we were close to through the years were among the first to know of Dad’s death and will remain close for life.

There are so many more memories that I could go into — from him finally admitting he hated scuba diving; to allowing me to get my certification anyway; to freezing while watching the stars on the rooftop in Rabun County; to the Olympic Ceremonies in Atlanta in 1996; to forcing each other out of our comfort zone both in conversation and our travels together.

Ultimately, though, I’m so happy he didn’t die alone which had been our greatest fear. Instead, he was surrounded by those who loved him and whom he loved which gives us tremendous peace. So, knowing we never know what moment will be our last — he’d want everyone to remember the one thing you don’t get more of is time. Celebrate in the moment, make the call you’ve been putting off, tell someone how you feel, take the trip that you’ve always dreamed of — remember to cherish every minute you have.

I love you Dad and we always will.