Next Friday marks three months since my Dad died but it feels like it was both years ago and just yesterday. Time becomes an entirely new entity when you’re trying to occupy each minute that passes with the intent to make every second more valuable. I can’t imagine this will feel any better in months or years from now, or that it won’t ever stop feeling like it was yesterday. I had a dream last night that he was still alive. I’ve had many, many dreams like that since November 19th. I’ve been told it means that he’s visiting. I grasp onto believing that’s true.Read more
Oh, Timehop, never letting a past moment slip by us in this digital age. I checked it when I woke up this morning to find a video from my last birthday of my family singing to me– my Dad’s voice overpowering everybody’s. I cried and all I could think was, he should be here right now.Read more
Dad, it’s been eight days since you’ve spread your wings and flown above the earth. These eight days have felt like a blur— I feel like I’m waiting for you to come home, for you to walk through the door any minute now from a long vacation… It feels like I’m just waiting. Except one day I’m going to realize you won’t be coming home soon, and it’s going to be a very devastating moment.Read more
“You can be a bright thing in the midst of this darkness,” Hannah Brencher wrote to me in an email. I’ve obsessively replayed those words in my head and reflected on them the last two weeks. Perfectly timed and stated, they were the words I needed to hear, that I didn’t know I needed to hear.Read more
What could be more frustrating than constantly searching for answers that logically and tangibly do not exist? Nothing, I say, nothing.
I know I wrote a whole post (Stages of Grieving a Diagnosis) a few months back about accepting this unknown world, which still stands entirely true but I failed to explicitly expand on the fact that step 5 is basically the trump card of all steps.Read more