The day started on a typical chilly, wet and windy twenty-eight-degree day in March. After school, our lacrosse team boarded the bus to play a scrimmage. During warm-ups, like I routinely do, I looked around for my mom and dad to give them a hello wave. At that moment, the realization struck me. For as long as I have grown up participating in team sports in western New York, without exception, I have been able to count on my parents being there on the sidelines, regardless of their work schedule or the weather. Although they have had their fair share of snow piling up on their boots, water saturating their clothes, or their toes and fingers ever so cold in hockey rinks, they were present for every game and practice since
