How Bob Saget saved my relationship with my dad.

Two weeks ago, I had an argument with my father, to whom I am very close. It wasn’t an earth-shattering topic, but our collective stubbornness resulted in a situation that was blown so far out of proportion that we hadn’t spoken in two weeks.

I’d spent the past week intentionally not reaching out to my dad, and instead focused on the minutia of my daily life – getting a new job, landing a hot interview…a slew of things that, normally, would warrant an excited call to my father. I felt very lost not being able to share news with him, but still quite indignant about not offering up an apology. I was still being petty.

On Saturday morning, most of my non-comedy friends were reaching out to tell me the news of comedian Tracy Morgan’s awful accident. The only solace I could find was that his children, who normally travel with him, were not in the vehicle at the time of the accident.

This morning, I saw the news that British comedian and actor Rik Mayall had passed away, which left me devastated. Mayall was one of the first comedians I became a fan of, having grown up watching The Young Ones with my older brother, Mike, for years. I adored Mayall and everything he did, and now he was dead at 56 and his children were fatherless.

Later in the day, I had the opportunity to interview Bob Saget, who is coming to Boston on June 21. We talked about the weekend’s awful news and I gained a wonderful insight into how Saget draws from his own life’s tragedies for his comedy – including the loss of his beloved father.

“If you’re able to see your father on Father’s Day, you’re pretty lucky,” he mused.

And that was it. The anger I had felt towards my father over our argument immediately dissolved, and my world was put into perspective. It didn’t matter what we had fought over…it only mattered that I fix this. I texted my father to tell him that I was sorry and that I loved him.  That was it. Life was simply too short.

And with that, my father called me, and we were able to put the past where it belongs – behind us.

Thank you, Bob Saget, for making me realize what really matters.