twenty five

Twenty Five

I wrote this in November 2017, several months after graduating college and ending my hockey career. I was 25 years old, three years removed from my father’s death, and trying to figure out what came next.

---

Part One

In May 2017 I graduated from college.

Almost three months ago, I turned 25 years old.

Up until this point in my life, everything was about hockey. My whole Identity was hockey. Like most players say, “Hockey isn’t a sport, it’s a lifestyle.”

I left home at 15 years old to play hockey. My parents weren’t ready but I was ready. Instead of picking a hockey academy close to home, I flew 3000 miles away, traveling from Lake Placid, New York, to Penticton, British Columbia. Just like that, my journey to be a college hockey player started.

After two amazing years at the academy, I was signed to a junior hockey team in Haverhill, Massachusetts, called Valley Jr. Warriors.

For the next three years, I lived in North Andover, MA. It was my first experience living in an apartment with roommates; I was only 17 years old. I learned fast to cook, clean, deal with roommates, but most of all, how to “live the dream.” ‘Juniors’ was a dream. I played nothing but hockey, and made nothing but lasting friendships with old teammates. I still talk to many of them to this day and it has been over 7 years; I think of them all often…

My goal throughout Juniors was to get recruited to play college hockey. I finally reached that goal, committing to SUNY Fredonia located one hour south of Buffalo, NY.

With 5 years of solid experience on and off the ice, I felt ready & excited. Fredonia was an amazing beginning to my college career. I had the pleasure playing/battling along side many amazing human beings.

My first ‘rookie’ semester came to a close and I headed off for a needed family vacation in La Ventana, Baja California.

The trip was incredible. We made the most of everyday by kiting, swimming with wale sharks, and even wearing American flag speedos!(tequila might have been involved)

I caught my mom (Patty), dad (Peter), and younger sister (Piper) up on my eventful first semester of college. However, I also shared some concerns I had and mentioned something about transferring schools.

I never thought I would transfer but the idea was coming from my intuitive ‘gut.’

Our warm Christmas past us by as did the vacation. It was time to head back to college and continue the hockey season.

I remember the moment my mom called me vividly. It was just after a team breakfast at about 8:45 am. The phone rang, I picked up. Silence for 5 seconds….My mom finally found the courage to speak.

In 30 seconds my life changed forever.

On my parents last few days of the trip, my dad started to express unusual behavior. Those around them thought my dad, Peter Moles, might be showing the beginning signs of a stroke.

My mom brought him to the hospital about 30 minutes in La Paz. The doctors administered an IV, thinking it was only dehydration or some type of bug.

Not getting any better, my mom & dad hopped on an airplane heading back home to New York; they didn’t make it. The East coast was undergoing a dreaded Nor’easter winter storm, so my parents were diverted to Houston, Texas.

Upon arrival in Houston, my mother explained to me she had to rush my father to the hospital via ambulance.

After an extensive review of my dad’s health, the doctors diagnosed my dad with Grade 4 Glioblastoma Brain Cancer.

When my mom called and told me the diagnosis, I dropped my phone & my knees collided with ground. I sat there for a few moments and cried...

A new journey had begun for myself and my family.

---

Part Two

The universe favors entropy; the universe seeks chaos. For 21 years of my life, the universe responded in perfect, rehearsed unity. I grew up in an amazing town, with even more amazing parents, with a gifted athletic ability.

I would never have thought I would be searching for calm amongst the chaos.

In January of 2014, when I was 21 years old, my father was diagnosed with Stage four Glioblastoma Brain Cancer. Glioblastoma is a rare, rapidly growing brain cancer with an expected survival rate of six months.

My hero fought seven hard months despite four initial diagnosed tumors growing. Our family, friends, and community battled right along with him through the surgery, the radiation, the continuous treatments, and in his last few weeks on this earth. We all couldn’t comprehend a life without him.

On July 25, 2014, Peter Moles died of the disease. It was my first experience with unbearable, unthinkable, pain & suffering.

Watching him take his last breath changed the course of my life.

About a year before his diagnosis, my sister, Piper Moles, went to see our dad in the garage. She reminisced, “I came into the garage to help him clean it. I can’t remember what we were doing, but for some reason, while organizing, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at me. I didn’t know what he wanted.”

Piper continued, “Out of nowhere he said, I am so proud of you and so proud of Marcus. If I were to die right now, in this moment, I would have a no regrets because I fulfilled my life. Of course, I would be heartbroken for leaving you, Mom, and Marcus. But I raised you guys right and I taught you what you needed to know. I fulfilled all my dreams and did everything I have ever wanted to do.’”

When I asked my sister, “How did this make you feel?”

After a few moments of deep thought and tears, she slowly responded, “I just started tearing up and hugged him. I said I love you. It changed my whole outlook on life. He made me want to strive to have a happy life. It wasn’t even about his business or the money he made. It was about building a family and a life he was proud of. It was a moment that just sticks in your memory forever. To have someone love you that much, it is crazy.”

I wish I could write paragraph after paragraph, page after page, about the type of man Peter Moles was. I can only hope to spread his values through my own actions now. Peter Moles was loved by all because he spread a lifestyle to admire and live by.

His mantra was simple: Work Hard. Play Hard.

Embedded in my DNA, I found my calm in the chaos, transferred schools, and in less than a month was back at school for my sophomore year of college.

I knew that is what he would have wanted me to do. Go build my own legacy & go fulfill my own dreams.

In September 2014, I arose out of the ashes at Nazareth College in Rochester, New York.

I owe my life to my teammates, coaches, friends, and teachers at that school. They helped me find a purpose again in my broken world. After losing my way, they helped me, more importantly, to become a better human being; not just to others, but to myself.

For the next three and half years, I proudly battled on the ice with my fellow teammates, playing the game I loved, because of the man I loved: Peter Moles.

I am extremely grateful for the friendships I made, from the senior class all the way down to the freshman. They are relationships that will be engrained in my heart and soul throughout the rest of my life.

If playing the game I love with my teammates wasn’t satisfying enough, graduating with them was even more of a delight. Our graduation day, sad & exciting, represented the long, strenuous, rewarding journey we embarked on.

I love you boys.

Yet, the celebration wasn’t over. I packed up my belongings, said goodbye to my room, said goodbye to my college house, said goodbye to my hockey career and traveled back to my home in Lake Placid, New York. A few days later, my family and friends treated me to a sensational graduation party.

Once the festivities were over, I said my goodbyes to everyone still at the house. Once the last family member exited, I closed the front door and walked into the living room. It was very quiet.

After a few moments pacing around the empty house, I slowly lied down on the hardwood floor of my living room. I stayed there for what seemed like five hours.

My mom walked by me a few times, not knowing what to say to her defeated son.

I was defeated as much as that sucks to admit. I looked up at her at one point, tears in my eyes, and said, “what do I do now mom?”

I had lost my father at 21 years old. Now, I was losing the game of hockey at 25 years old.

I spent over a decade refining my craft, to become a college hockey player.

A few months after that day of defeat, I recalled a memory of a hockey practice when I was very young. We were all huddled around the coach, eyes wide open and curious. The coach asked, “Who here wants to play college hockey?”

Of course, everyone raised their hands.

I was the only one to play NCAA college hockey. I am forever grateful.

Reflecting on the experience revealed to me that the journey, the process, was the most rewarding part. Every single practice, workout, game, was the reward. LP Blue Bombers, Okanagan Hockey Academy, Valley Jr. Warriors, SUNY Fredonia Blue Devils, Nazareth College Golden Flyers, culminated a journey filled with love, pain, fear, and glory.

Once again, since my dad died, I was faced with the entropy of the universe. I must seek the calm in the chaos. I must share my fathers’ values with the world.

I am now 25 years young. I will go build a legacy.

Suffer Proudly,
-Molesy