Happy Holidays
Dear Family and Friends,
The Holidays are a time to express gratitude for our loved ones, friendships, and the communities that support us. And I wanted to thank each of you during this time. I hope that everyone has a wonderful holiday season with your family and friends and takes the time to have special moments and experiences. You will cherish these memories forever.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few months keeping my head down and pushing through. As many of you know, sometimes the hardest part of this journey is facing what we fear most—our grief, the feeling of loss, and the moments when we’re reminded that we must continue without those we love in the flesh.
Losing my dad has been one of the most difficult things my family has ever had to face. The memories, the conversations, the lessons he taught—those will always stay with us. Recently, I visited his grave over Thanksgiving, and I’ll admit, it was a lot harder than I expected. But I talked to him there, told him about what the kids have been up to, shared that Sarah had launched her nail company, and talked a lot of shit about the Jaguars (can we make some changes already!). It felt comforting, in a way, to share these moments with him.
Everyone finds their own way to cope individually with loss. For some, it’s praying, running, hiking, sailing, fishing, and/or biking. For me, it’s been walking the golf course. I don’t know why, but there’s something about the focus, the rhythm of the game that allows me to clear my mind. It’s where I usually find peace.
I’m reminded of a moment I had at Bandon Dunes. I was playing with a caddy who turned out to be a big fan of Dave Matthews Band, my dad’s favorite band. I mean this caddy even had a tattoo of the Dave Matthew’s logo on his arm! We were jamming to the music—something my dad and I used to do together—and it felt like he was walking the course with us. We played all the hits for the last nine holes, and I had a great round, shooting an even par on the back nine. At one point, I even managed to say, “I f’d it all up,” (just like my dad would say to me) when I hit a heavy sand shot that stayed in the trap and meant I doubled hole 14. It was a strange, but comforting moment, my dad was tagging along with us, listening to the music, and sharing a laugh on my bad shot (a favorite tradition of his). I finished with a birdie on the last, hitting a sand shot to 5 feet for a birdie. The crazy part is that the last round my dad and I played together was also on the edge of the pacific coast in the same overcast conditions. He used his trusted Leki branded hiking poles to get around the Cliffs 9 hole par 3 course as his legs started to give way to ALS, and he would bend over his putts like Jack Nicklaus does (hunched back, tighter stroke). It was like the two rounds were intertwined.
I share this with you all because sometimes we get so worked up about the daily tasks at hand—we forget the little things that make the journey so special. The memories, the connections, the moments that seem small, but are ACTUALLY BIG. For example, the experience 9 golfers had last June in Connecticut when we played 100 holes in a day. Strangers from across the country were united together by a passion to BEAT ALS with a love for golf. I will never forget that day and the moments we shared. I even remember how each golfer (some who I just met), reached out to me after my dad passed (a few months after our last event). They all had an immense amount of empathy because they are living or lived through the exact thing my family had. The community we are building and you all joining in has meant so much.
Jim H., one of my golf senseis, sent me a letter recently in which he shared how he still feels the loss of his dad every day and to not shy away from that feeling. His words resonate deeply with me. There are moments, like hearing a song or remembering a shared experience, that bring those we’ve lost back into our lives in a way that makes them feel among us. I’m reminded not to fear these times now, but rather to embrace them as part of our life.
As I continue to pour myself into this fight against ALS and the toll it has taken on so many, it’s not just about my family’s experience or the cause, but about the people and the memories we build to work towards something game changing —and the impact happens in unexpected ways. For Cory and me, it’s been through this passion project that several ALS advocates, golfers, and friends have encouraged the 9 of us to keep building.
So a sincere thank you for your continued support of the 100 Holes to BEAT ALS. Several of you have been kind enough to get involved. Your support and encouragement throughout the year has meant the world to us. We are excited about building a community that has functioned more similarly to an AA group – but with less group circles and more golf! I’m grateful to be part of this community of people who are working together to make a difference and build a community to beat this awful disease once and for all.
Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season filled with special moments and cherished memories with friends and family.
Happy Holidays and Happy New Year,
Alex Litt
