Growing up.

Last week I went to a funeral for my friend/former boss Kevin Padrnos. Kevin was the director of the East YMCA here in Wichita and while I've poked fun of the Y a couple of times on this site, I think it's important to point out that I do so out of a weird kind of love. You see, I grew up at the East Y, I could walk there in just a couple of minutes and I spent hour upon hour working out and playing basketball until they either turned off the lights or I was physically required to be home. Back then I was pretty much the same person I am now, I was extremely determined and committed to my dreams (which at that time was to be a starting guard on the Wichita State basketball team)—OK, so maybe not all dreams turn out as you would like, but regardless the Y was my second home from about the time I was 11 or 12 until I was in college. I think I got hooked into the Y through Curt, and much of the time I spent there, I spent with him—often waiting anxiously for a chance to get into a pick-up game with him and his friends. Together, we kind of became a part of the Y family alongside Kevin, Brian, Joann, the Hebert brothers, L.C. and countless other Y employees and regulars. In time, Curt and I actually became employees too. I did just about every job imaginable at the Y, I refereed basketball games played by five year-olds, scrapped gum off of the railing in the gym, chalked T-ball fields at five in the morning and worked the graveyard shift as "gym supervisor" in which I broke up fights during co-ed volleyball games. And I did it all for the money and the free membership.

Needless to say, between the Y and Sanborn's Pool, Curt and I pretty much have a lifetime of stories.

However, it was also during that time that I got to know Kevin and I think he kind of took me under his wing a bit, not only would he keep me gainfully employed at the Y, but he gave me the opportunity to earn a little extra money on the side helping renovate his house in college hill. He always treated me well and made me feel like we had a personal relationship.

For those reasons alone, Kevin's death shook me. We weren't close friends, in fact I had only spoke to him a couple of times in the past few years—mainly because he had relocated to the east coast before returning to run the new South Y—but he was an important person in my childhood and his death was somewhat another sign of its death as well.

But it wasn't those reason's alone that it got to me.

First of all, Kevin was just 49. He was in incredible shape and full of life and it just reminded me how fragile life really is. (He died of a heart attack after collapsing from a cold.) Second, he was a father—and a single father at that. He had three young children, two of which are only sophomores in high school. At the funeral both of them spoke and it really, really got to me. The things they said were beautiful and reflected what a great dad he was and I couldn't help but to look at them and think of Park. While I've always been a bit cautious and slightly fearful, now nothing in the world scares me more than not being here for him. However, I know I can't count on tomorrow, so his death brought home the importance of making sure I make a lasting impact on Park. If nothing more, just so he'll say some nice things about me too.