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
Getting hold of myself the last few months has been difficult. Grieving has been projected to be this wild, emotional, tear-jerking experience but it is so much less hollywood than that. Grieving has been a slow, stagnant process. I honestly don’t even feel as though I’ve stuck my foot in the door to grief yet which is ironically the “first step” to bereavement. It’s been a flip-flop of denial, anger, and sadness but mostly silence.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
I’m trying really hard to not be bitter but I’m only human. With the upcoming holidays literally harassing me every place outside of my bedroom, I’m filled with equal amounts of excitement and anxiety.
This is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year but what if it is god awful? I’m starting to feel like I’m walking a tightrope except if you know me, I have no balance whatsoever and trying to figure out how to carry this weight is increasingly difficult.
Every year, the second weekend of December, both sides of my family get together to pick out our Christmas trees. All twenty-two or so of us meet for breakfast at 8 am. We’d take up about half the diner and have two waitresses. Since my family is full of December birthdays, it’d usually fall on my Dad’s, my brother’s, my cousin’s, or my own, and we’d celebrate that with a candle-topped blueberry muffin.Read more