The Road Trip That Changed Everything

Kathy Mattoon
Jul 2, 2025
4 min read

Updated: Jul 3, 2025

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There are moments in life that shape us in ways we don’t fully understand until years later. For me, that moment was a road trip – just me and my dad, miles of open road, and a rare taste of freedom from the chaos that usually surrounded me.

The Value of Having a Dad in Your Life

My dad was my calm in a storm that he never knew existed. He was patient, steady, and always there. He taught me how to balance a checkbook, change my oil, and throw a solid softball pitch. He spent hours playing board games with me, making sure I never felt alone. Even when his body was failing him, he was the one who made me feel safe.

Every year, our family drove to Miami. Those trips were long, hot, and usually unbearable – especially when you’re trapped in the backseat with someone who tormented you. But there was one year, just one, where everything was different.

That year, my mom and brother had already gone ahead, leaving just me and my dad to make the drive together. It was the first time in my life that I felt free. No tension. No fear. No walking on eggshells. Just the wind in my hair, the music blasting, and my dad singing along – surprising me with how much he actually liked some of my music. Dad loved the Oak Ridge Boys!

We laughed. We ate when we wanted. We stayed up late and did things at our own pace. It was the most peaceful I had ever known.

For once, I wasn’t just trying to survive. I was living.

Losing My Safe Place

As the years passed, my dad’s illness took more of him away. He was slipping, and I was losing the only person who ever made me feel protected. My mother struggled with depression, my brother left and only returned when he needed something, and I was left trying to juggle it all – working two jobs, going to school, and helping care for my dad.

When I got the call that he was in the hospital, I rushed to his side. The doctors told me he was having a massive heart attack.

Then came the question I wasn’t prepare for:

“Do you know his end-of-life wishes?”

I was 20 years old, just learning about the medical field, and suddenly, I was the one making the hardest decision of my life. My mother was unreachable, and my brother—when I finally got him on the phone—refused to decide.

“You’re going to have to do it,” he said.

So, I did.

I walked into the room, looked into my dad’s eyes, and asked if he was in pain. He nodded.

“Do you want me to let you go?”

He locked eyes with me and nodded again.

I wanted to scream. To beg him to hold on. But I knew I had to let him go.

I gave the doctors permission to begin end-of-life care. Two days later, he was gone.

The Weight of Love and Loss

For 25 years, I’ve carried the weight of that decision. The moment I lost the only person who ever made me feel truly safe.

But I also carry the memories.

The road trip.

The board games.

The music.

The steady presence that taught me what love should feel like.

My dad may be gone, but his impact will never leave me. And that one road trip? That trip saved me.

It gave me a glimpse of what life could be – without fear, without silence, without shame.

That glimpse gave me the strength to fight for a life I deserved.

To the fathers who show up, who love unconditionally, and who make their children feel safe – you are everything.

And to my dad... thank you for that drive. You didn't just take me to Miami. You took me somewhere I'd never seen before: A place called peace. And you gave me the strength to fight for it, long after you were gone.

Closing Thoughts

That road trip with my dad didn't just give me peace–it gave me perspective. For the first time, I wasn't surviving. I was free. And that taste of freedom stayed wiht me long after the road ended.

We all have moments that change us. Sometimes they're big and loud. Sometimes, they're quiet, tucked away in the corners of our memory. But they matter. They remind us who we are beneath the pain, beneath the silence.

So, I ask you...

What was your moment?

Hugs,