March 11, 2025 • 10 mins
On this episode of Our American Stories, storyteller Shiloh Carozza remembers her father in a moving portrait of his love, steadfastness, and faith.
Support the show (https://www.ouramericanstories.com/donate)
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:13):
And we continue with our American stories. And today we're
going to hear from Shiloh Carroza, whom I got to
know while teaching at Hillsdale College a couple of years ago.
I was there doing a two week seminar and storytelling.
I've been doing it ever since. And I submitted that
every student there had a story and I was seeking
them out personal, something about their town, their family, whatever,
(00:38):
And Shiloh was a bit reluctant to talk, and she
looked a little out of it. I was told she
was such a good student, and I was a little worried,
and so after the class I asked her if she
wouldn't mind staying. I asked her if everything was okay,
and if she wanted to opt out, that was fine too,
and she told me that she had just learned that
her father was dying. We talked for a bit and
then I said, well, maybe you'd want to write about that. Well,
(01:00):
since then her dad passed. And here it is.
Speaker 2 (01:04):
We all know growing up that for most of us,
there will come a day when we have to say
goodbye to our parents. But nothing can prepare you for
the day your father is rushed to the hospital because
it looks like he's having a stroke, and nothing can
prepare you for the phone call from your mother telling
you it's not a stroke, it's a brain tumor. Nothing
(01:26):
could have prepared me for the two weeks I spent
alone in the house while my dad underwent the first
of several surgeries, or for the next two years that
we saw him gradually lose his speech and grow quiet
as the cancer took over his brain. There are some
memories from those last two years I would rather forget.
(01:47):
The words I failed to say when he most needed
to hear them. The process of watching the strongest man
I knew grow weak and dependent. The moments in which
I found myself of doing things for him that he
did for me when I was little. The sound of
(02:07):
the funeral home staff wheeling the body out of the
house at three point thirty one night. The feeling of
emptiness that came after the funeral ended and everyone went
home and we were once again left with a quiet
house and an empty chair. Maybe someday I'll be glad
(02:30):
for those memories, but not now. But thankfully Dad left
my family with plenty of good memories from the nineteen
years I knew him, the twenty two years my brother
knew him, and the thirty one years my mom shared
with him. When I look back at all the memories
I have, it's hard to pin down one characteristic that
(02:54):
explains him or sums up who he was. He was
the dad who took us everywhere with him, who would
teach us more and a car ride than all our
schoolbooks combined. He was the dad who put up with
the mosquitoes on our family camping trips because number one,
he knew the rest of us liked the outdoors, and
number two, he knew there would be s'mores. He was
(03:16):
the dad who always paused the movie in the middle
of the best scene to analyze the plot out loud
with us. He was the dad who consistently quizzed us
to see if we remembered who wrote his favorite hymn
and can it be before belting it out in church,
And in case you were wondering, it was written by
Charles Wesley. He was the dad who stayed up into
(03:40):
the early hours of the morning with us, talking about
anything we wanted, and still managing to teach us something
in the process. He was also the dad who sat
us down one day and told us that his time
was limited, that the tumor of the doctors found would
give him two years possible less. Dad never cried unless
(04:04):
either someone had died or unless he found himself overwhelmed
by the weight of some profound truth. He was crying
when he looked my brother and me in the eyes
and told us you are my best investments. I don't
think I grasped what that meant until the funeral, when
(04:26):
hundreds of people from all walks of life approached me
and told me how Dad had impacted them. In fact,
I still don't fully grasp what that means. It's like
all my life, Dad was planting seeds in me, and
some are still in the process of breaking through the soil.
But some of them have blossomed, and I recognize them
(04:47):
now as pieces of him. My need to talk using
my hands, my intuitive drive to find patterns in the
world around me and make sense of details, my tendency
to overanalyze just about everything. I could go on naming
personality traits ad infinitum, but isn't the most important thing
(05:08):
Dad gave me. The most important thing he gave me
was the very thing that made me get out of bed.
The next morning after he died. There is nothing like
waking up the next morning and knowing that the world
you will wake up to for the rest of your
(05:29):
life is one without your father, And that morning, along
with many others, the only thing that could make me
open my eyes was the knowledge that no matter what
had happened, or was still happening, or would happen, God
(05:52):
had it all under control. And that was what Dad
taught me. But it still hurts. There are plenty of
memories that crop up again and again, no matter how
much I try to think only of the positive. Because
of my Dad's forgiveness and faith in Christ, I know
(06:15):
where he is now, but that can be hard to
remember when the last image burned in your mind is
of a body. Death may not be the end, but
death is ugly, and for the time, it feels so permanent.
(06:37):
For the first year after his death, I realized I
kept expecting Dad to come back, to hear him pick
up on the other end of the phone, to walk
downstairs and see him at his desk in the basement.
In some ways, I don't think this will ever go away.
I might not expect to find him around the corner,
(06:59):
but I keep looking for him, waiting for some kind
of reunion. I don't think that's a bad thing, but
I won't find that reunion here. Ecclesiastes tells us God
has set eternity in our hearts, and I think that ache,
that tug that grief causes is there to remind us
(07:21):
that we won't find what we're looking for on this side.
What we're ultimately looking for isn't just a reunion with
people we've lost. And Psalm seventy three, the writer prays
to God, whom have I in heaven, but You and
earth has nothing I desire besides You. My flesh and
(07:46):
my heart may fail, but God is the strength of
my heart and my portion forever. The best thing about
my dad was that he didn't leave me just longing
to have him back. I do want him back, but
he helped me see what I really want is so
(08:07):
much more. He gave me a picture of God's love
as father and maker and friend. And however much I
want to be with Dad, being with God someday will
be that much better. Several months after his diagnosis, Dad
gave a talk at a local church to share his
(08:29):
journey with them and challenge them to think about their
own lives and how they thought about eternity. To quote him.
He ended by telling them this First Corinthians, chapter two,
verse nine says, no eye has seen, no ear has heard,
no mind can conceive what God has prepared for those
(08:51):
who love him. Do you know what the apostle Paul
is saying. He's saying you can't see it, you can't
hear it, you can't even imagine it. But God has
something even better where he is. Dad, you are now
(09:13):
a part of that other side. It still hurts, and
I still miss you, and that isn't going to change.
But on the best days, I catch myself thinking, how
I can't wait to tell you about everything that's happened
here since you left. And on the worst days, even then,
(09:39):
you're only a few more Fathers days away.
Speaker 1 (09:45):
And you've been listening to Shiloh Caroza, and what beautiful words,
My goodness, there's not a dad listening who wouldn't hope
for such eloquence, such beauty from a daughter, and such
strength and courage, and by the way, what a way
to be described. Dad taught us more in a car
ride than all the school books combined. He was the
(10:07):
dad who stayed up into the early hours talking to
us about anything we wanted. He's the dad who told
us his time was limited. You are my best investments,
and our kids are. No matter what the culture is
telling you, no matter what anybody's telling you, our kids,
our children are our best investments. Shiloh Caroza Hillsdale College's finest,
(10:31):
A place where they teach all the beautiful things in life,
all the things that matter in life, and my goodness,
it's evidence to her and a beautiful piece of writing.
Shallow Carosa's story on our American stories
And we continue with our American stories. And today we're
going to hear from Shiloh Carroza, whom I got to
know while teaching at Hillsdale College a couple of years ago.
I was there doing a two week seminar and storytelling.
I've been doing it ever since. And I submitted that
every student there had a story and I was seeking
them out personal, something about their town, their family, whatever,
(00:38):
And Shiloh was a bit reluctant to talk, and she
looked a little out of it. I was told she
was such a good student, and I was a little worried,
and so after the class I asked her if she
wouldn't mind staying. I asked her if everything was okay,
and if she wanted to opt out, that was fine too,
and she told me that she had just learned that
her father was dying. We talked for a bit and
then I said, well, maybe you'd want to write about that. Well,
(01:00):
since then her dad passed. And here it is.
Speaker 2 (01:04):
We all know growing up that for most of us,
there will come a day when we have to say
goodbye to our parents. But nothing can prepare you for
the day your father is rushed to the hospital because
it looks like he's having a stroke, and nothing can
prepare you for the phone call from your mother telling
you it's not a stroke, it's a brain tumor. Nothing
(01:26):
could have prepared me for the two weeks I spent
alone in the house while my dad underwent the first
of several surgeries, or for the next two years that
we saw him gradually lose his speech and grow quiet
as the cancer took over his brain. There are some
memories from those last two years I would rather forget.
(01:47):
The words I failed to say when he most needed
to hear them. The process of watching the strongest man
I knew grow weak and dependent. The moments in which
I found myself of doing things for him that he
did for me when I was little. The sound of
(02:07):
the funeral home staff wheeling the body out of the
house at three point thirty one night. The feeling of
emptiness that came after the funeral ended and everyone went
home and we were once again left with a quiet
house and an empty chair. Maybe someday I'll be glad
(02:30):
for those memories, but not now. But thankfully Dad left
my family with plenty of good memories from the nineteen
years I knew him, the twenty two years my brother
knew him, and the thirty one years my mom shared
with him. When I look back at all the memories
I have, it's hard to pin down one characteristic that
(02:54):
explains him or sums up who he was. He was
the dad who took us everywhere with him, who would
teach us more and a car ride than all our
schoolbooks combined. He was the dad who put up with
the mosquitoes on our family camping trips because number one,
he knew the rest of us liked the outdoors, and
number two, he knew there would be s'mores. He was
(03:16):
the dad who always paused the movie in the middle
of the best scene to analyze the plot out loud
with us. He was the dad who consistently quizzed us
to see if we remembered who wrote his favorite hymn
and can it be before belting it out in church,
And in case you were wondering, it was written by
Charles Wesley. He was the dad who stayed up into
(03:40):
the early hours of the morning with us, talking about
anything we wanted, and still managing to teach us something
in the process. He was also the dad who sat
us down one day and told us that his time
was limited, that the tumor of the doctors found would
give him two years possible less. Dad never cried unless
(04:04):
either someone had died or unless he found himself overwhelmed
by the weight of some profound truth. He was crying
when he looked my brother and me in the eyes
and told us you are my best investments. I don't
think I grasped what that meant until the funeral, when
(04:26):
hundreds of people from all walks of life approached me
and told me how Dad had impacted them. In fact,
I still don't fully grasp what that means. It's like
all my life, Dad was planting seeds in me, and
some are still in the process of breaking through the soil.
But some of them have blossomed, and I recognize them
(04:47):
now as pieces of him. My need to talk using
my hands, my intuitive drive to find patterns in the
world around me and make sense of details, my tendency
to overanalyze just about everything. I could go on naming
personality traits ad infinitum, but isn't the most important thing
(05:08):
Dad gave me. The most important thing he gave me
was the very thing that made me get out of bed.
The next morning after he died. There is nothing like
waking up the next morning and knowing that the world
you will wake up to for the rest of your
(05:29):
life is one without your father, And that morning, along
with many others, the only thing that could make me
open my eyes was the knowledge that no matter what
had happened, or was still happening, or would happen, God
(05:52):
had it all under control. And that was what Dad
taught me. But it still hurts. There are plenty of
memories that crop up again and again, no matter how
much I try to think only of the positive. Because
of my Dad's forgiveness and faith in Christ, I know
(06:15):
where he is now, but that can be hard to
remember when the last image burned in your mind is
of a body. Death may not be the end, but
death is ugly, and for the time, it feels so permanent.
(06:37):
For the first year after his death, I realized I
kept expecting Dad to come back, to hear him pick
up on the other end of the phone, to walk
downstairs and see him at his desk in the basement.
In some ways, I don't think this will ever go away.
I might not expect to find him around the corner,
(06:59):
but I keep looking for him, waiting for some kind
of reunion. I don't think that's a bad thing, but
I won't find that reunion here. Ecclesiastes tells us God
has set eternity in our hearts, and I think that ache,
that tug that grief causes is there to remind us
(07:21):
that we won't find what we're looking for on this side.
What we're ultimately looking for isn't just a reunion with
people we've lost. And Psalm seventy three, the writer prays
to God, whom have I in heaven, but You and
earth has nothing I desire besides You. My flesh and
(07:46):
my heart may fail, but God is the strength of
my heart and my portion forever. The best thing about
my dad was that he didn't leave me just longing
to have him back. I do want him back, but
he helped me see what I really want is so
(08:07):
much more. He gave me a picture of God's love
as father and maker and friend. And however much I
want to be with Dad, being with God someday will
be that much better. Several months after his diagnosis, Dad
gave a talk at a local church to share his
(08:29):
journey with them and challenge them to think about their
own lives and how they thought about eternity. To quote him.
He ended by telling them this First Corinthians, chapter two,
verse nine says, no eye has seen, no ear has heard,
no mind can conceive what God has prepared for those
(08:51):
who love him. Do you know what the apostle Paul
is saying. He's saying you can't see it, you can't
hear it, you can't even imagine it. But God has
something even better where he is. Dad, you are now
(09:13):
a part of that other side. It still hurts, and
I still miss you, and that isn't going to change.
But on the best days, I catch myself thinking, how
I can't wait to tell you about everything that's happened
here since you left. And on the worst days, even then,
(09:39):
you're only a few more Fathers days away.
Speaker 1 (09:45):
And you've been listening to Shiloh Caroza, and what beautiful words,
My goodness, there's not a dad listening who wouldn't hope
for such eloquence, such beauty from a daughter, and such
strength and courage, and by the way, what a way
to be described. Dad taught us more in a car
ride than all the school books combined. He was the
(10:07):
dad who stayed up into the early hours talking to
us about anything we wanted. He's the dad who told
us his time was limited. You are my best investments,
and our kids are. No matter what the culture is
telling you, no matter what anybody's telling you, our kids,
our children are our best investments. Shiloh Caroza Hillsdale College's finest,
(10:31):
A place where they teach all the beautiful things in life,
all the things that matter in life, and my goodness,
it's evidence to her and a beautiful piece of writing.
Shallow Carosa's story on our American stories
Host
Lee Habeeb
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
New Heights with Jason & Travis Kelce
Football’s funniest family duo — Jason Kelce of the Philadelphia Eagles and Travis Kelce of the Kansas City Chiefs — team up to provide next-level access to life in the league as it unfolds. The two brothers and Super Bowl champions drop weekly insights about the weekly slate of games and share their INSIDE perspectives on trending NFL news and sports headlines. They also endlessly rag on each other as brothers do, chat the latest in pop culture and welcome some very popular and well-known friends to chat with them. Check out new episodes every Wednesday. Follow New Heights on the Wondery App, YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to new episodes early and ad-free, and get exclusive content on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. And join our new membership for a unique fan experience by going to the New Heights YouTube channel now!
24/7 News: The Latest
The latest news in 4 minutes updated every hour, every day.