Inside HOKIE SPORTS | Vol. 12 No. 2 | October 2019

inside.hokiesports.com 11 He and my mom established Faithful & True Ministries and began collaborating on workshops and workbooks that provided the blueprint for turning the pain inside of people into the fuel that saved their lives and marriages. Their bond and collective willingness to tell their story was the spark that illuminated the path forward for others. Their combined talents were divinely woven together, and once they were, it allowed them both to reach their potential as world-class healers. Yes mom, you are, too! The results have been groundbreaking. And that will be part of his legacy. My mom and his children will be the other part. You see, my dad’s trauma guided his passion to help others, but it also drove his unrelenting desire to be the father and husband that his own father wasn’t. He accomplished that and then some. He didn’t just try to tell me that I was special and different. He modeled it for me. He didn’t just encourage my inherited talents. He delighted in them. He made it evident every day that he felt that the work I did was every bit as important as the work he did. I knew every second that he was proud of me. And in some ways, I live the life he would have had he not been scarred as a child. That was his greatest gift to me, and it is my eternal hope that he knew how proud I was of him. Through it all, he never missed a game I played or called, and in recent years, was known to walk out of a workshop because “his” Hokies and his son were on the air. When cancer weakened him to the point he couldn’t travel to the NCAA Tournament last year, he attempted to use the connections he had made in the White House to strike down the NCAA’s ban on streaming so he could listen to the games. When that failed, he used his relationships at Liberty to infiltrate our Lynchburg affiliate and have someone place a phone in the studio next to a speaker. I smile thinking of him in his favorite chair with the phone to his ear, listening to the last basketball game he would hear me call. He had that level of stubbornness in him. He would not be denied hearing his son, and he had spent his life not being denied his impact on others. We were picking out the outfit to bury him, and as we went through his closet, he had about 25 different Virginia Tech shirts and sweaters. You see, nothing gave him more pride than me being the “Voice of the Hokies,”andnothingmadehimfeelmoreacceptedthanhisplaceinHokie Nation. He liked to wear his Virginia Tech gear when he was traveling so other Hokies would seek out a conversation about Tech—and ultimately me. The more I thought about it, the more it makes harmonious sense. My dad didn’t go to Virginia Tech or have any affiliation with it until the last five years of his life. But all along, he was a living embodiment of Ut Prosim (“That I may serve”). My dad served—me and my family, countless strangers, and ultimately a higher power. His imperfections led him to live a perfect life. He died a Hokie, and to me, a hero. And I know he will still be listening even though he now has the best seats in the house. Rest in peace, Dad. We will carry the torch from here. Like many fathers and sons, Jon Laaser (right) had a special relationship with his dad, Mark, who passed away in late September.