It was just another day. But I had been really sick all day. The kind of sick that tells you something is wrong but you cannot fathom what's truly happening. I spent all day at work getting worse by the hour. I had no idea what was happening to my body. When I got home from work, I sat on my futon, trying to gather myself and finally accepted I had to lay down. The moment my head hit the pillow the phone rang. It was a local number from back home, I almost didn't answer but something told me to pick it up.
I did. It was the police. My dad was found dead in his home. Our neighbor went to check on him after he wasn't answering his phone and no one saw his car move for the day. The officer was explaining that he had passed away and someone needed to come to the house. I screamed. I swore. There was no way it was my dad, we had just buried my grandpa, this wasn't happening. The officer calmly explained that it was him, he had called a friend to get my number as he was standing next to my dad and my picture hung on the wall. It was in that moment that everything I had ever known was about to change.
I called my aunt. I had no idea what else to do. I could barely breathe, she went to his house, and confirmed what I already knew. I laid on my living floor unable to move, unable to fathom what to do next. I was five hours away. Then the thoughts quickly started flooding my head, my brother, my little brother, he was at school, my sister, my family, his friends. I realized very fast I had to get my shit together and be strong for my family as I had to then call my sister and soon my family would know. As my family rallied to get everyone together and make sure everyone knew, I packed a mediocre bag of stuff and got on the road.
It was the same trip I had just made a couple weeks ago, but that time my dad was calling me every 30 minutes updating me on my grandfather's condition. I continued to drive as my phone never stopped ringing, from my friend's parents to my best friend panic stricken as to why I didn't call anyone before getting on the road. Secretly, I didn't want to tell anyone, I didn't want to utter those words, I didn't want my dad to be dead. But he was. No rhyme. No reason. He was gone.
Throughout most of my 20s, I spent my time going to college and working, a lot. I had experienced a lot already in my young life and finally had overcome it all to be a successful young adult. I had graduated from college, moved and began traveling as a therapist. I went from assignment to assignment. My dad and grandpa packing my car each move. I rarely came home as I was obsessed with my student loan debt and felt it was best to work as many shifts as I could. I was naive. I never thought about how short life could be. But I always made sure to remember every birthday and anniversary and came home for those moments I felt were non-negotiable.
As time went on, I experienced the loss of some friends and the unexpected heart break that eventually lead me on my health and fitness journey. I was on a mission, I had a financial plan and I thought I was in control. Little did I know that I was about to watch my entire world be eradicated and truly face the most difficult challenges of my life.
I never thought my dad would die. Honestly, the man had suffered more injuries and had more health problems than I can count. I sat by his bedside more times at the hospital than I can count at this point. He worked hard and he pushed his body to the limits. But, he was focused on his family and his children. He helped take care of my grandpa, took charge when he became the only parent and he dreamt of walking me down the aisle and becoming a grandparent. I never pictured those things like he did but he was sure he would be there. I knew my father wouldn't live to be a hundred but I never thought he would be taken so suddenly. I expected to have his honest, sometimes harsh opinionated self well into my true adulthood. I expected him to be there when my brother graduated college and went onto graduate school. I expected him to be there when he was in fact right and I did settle down.
If only real life was like a movie and we got everything we thought we deserved.
There's no guide to how to deal with the death of a parent- especially not when you bury your parent unexpectedly in your 20's. There's no book that can tell you about the lowest of low moments when you are walking through your kitchen and you go to call your dad to ask him something about your car...but there's no person on the end of that phone call. As a millennial, I've spent most of time surrounded by college, work and technology. I would text my dad, but rarely called. He left voicemails and I would be annoyed because I would have to listen to them for him just to text me the same information (stupid now I realize as those voicemails I clung to this last year until they were accidentally deleted when my phone was transferred).
Many people think of their parents as the pillars of their family unit, they expect that one day, when they are old, that they will pass away peacefully in their sleep. Honestly, I never expected my dad to go in such a fashion that he did. Since our abandonment at such a young age, I just expected my dad to always be there. After my grandfather's sudden passing, I was overwhelmed with grief. Focused on my own heartache, not focusing enough on his. Looking back on every family event, birthday, holiday, argument and lesson learned, I choose to only remember the good times, his huge smile and overbearing hug.
When my father died, all of those memories faded for a long time. That entire week of his death, the funeral planning, the angry outbursts I had, I barely remember anything. I only remember standing with my brother next to his coffin shaking and almost passing out. I was overwhelmed in the best way at the amount of people that came to pay their respects. My dad was an honest man, he never apologized, he lived unapologetically, and sometimes that rubbed people the wrong way. But, at those calling hours, the people standing in line out the door and down the street, all of that didn't matter. Every single person told a story about how my dad helped them, how he stood up for them, or how he assisted them in ways I had no idea about.
In the year since his death, I've learned a great deal about grief and myself. I've learned that grief is far more complex than I could have fathomed and there is no right way to go about it. Grief is not linear, it's more like a terrifying roller-coaster that takes your breathe away standing in the produce section of the grocery store when cherries are being distributed for the first time. Some days I feel happy and content, and other days I cry, I feel anger exuding from my pores at watching my family suffer. The depression sets in and I try to bargain with myself on how I could have been better, done more, just been able to tell him no matter what we went through I really did love him and all of his quirks good and bad.
There have been many lessons I have learned and honestly I've learned my friends don't understand unless it's happened to them. That they were a great support in the beginning, but I know it's hard to be supportive when you don't really understand what I am going through. They have lent me a hug, advice, an ear, but honestly they get to continue living their life where I felt stuck in a dark hole. Some have grown distant, I won't lie. They either don't return phone calls, text messages, or haven't reached out at all. Initially it was upsetting, I couldn't understand anymore loss. I've learned everyone deals with death in their own way. Some are comfortable facing it head own and others mask it. I've experienced both and choose not to judge.
One of the greatest lessons I have learned is that those memories, good and bad, are sacred to my family and I. I choose to only remember things that bring me joy, the times when my father loudly cheered from me from the stands, the times when my father so bluntly told me to get over heart break and failure. I recall the many soccer games we sat on the sidelines watching my brother. If anything, our dad told the world about how proud he was of us. We may have had a roller-coaster of a relationship at times but how could you not. He was faced with being a single parent in an incredibly difficult situation trying to explain to his daughter how she was abused by her biological mother and then abandoned. I'm sure I didn't make it that easy either as we have the same addictive and head strong personality.
All of the memories, the pictures, the thoughts written on his funeral page, they keep him alive in our hearts and in our minds. He's gone. There's is no changing that. But it will forever be a life lesson on how to conduct myself on a daily basis and the importance of remaining appreciative of those who remain in my life. As I approach the anniversary of his sudden passing, there is no doubt that he is sitting up there with my grandfather and best friend watching me strive to be a better more inspired person. I feel his spirit, it's not the same, but it's there. I strive to not focus on everything that is missing, I try to not picture who will walk me down that aisle, or if I am blessed to have a family, who my kids will be taught the foundations of life that my father and grandfather shared with me.
It doesn't get easier. No matter what people tell you. That's bullshit and I will tell you that everything does not happen for just "a reason." Because honestly, if you live your life and suddenly die, I hope to God that it wasn't just for one reason. Instead, I know that eventually over time, we will get used to living our unexpected reality. I know my father would tell me to plainly stop crying. To buck up and get the f**k over whatever is bringing me down. I got my harsh sense of verbiage from him lol. I'll cherish the good memories, the difficult times that we eventually got through and forever will remember how he affected all of our lives. But life does not stop my friends. No matter how painful the day you are enduring, life keeps going. It took me months to adjust to my new normal and understand that life is never going to be the same.
Take it from someone who placed their life on hold, held back and refused to be open with others about their true feelings. No one can say anything to you to make you feel better. Everyone will tell you how sorry they are and people will genuinely mean it. It will get hard to come up with responses knowing that it's going to make that person uncomfortable, so instead say "thank you." Understand, mourning will hang on you like a shadow during your day to day activities. Death is a very messy business. I've gone through his possessions, complied his things, emptied his house with my family and tried to preserve his presence as our lives have continued visiting him at the mausoleum telling him about what's new in my life.
But you cannot stop functioning, you cannot put off life, your bills, you must keep moving even if it is at a slower pace because your loved one would want you to. And even on your most difficult days that you find yourself angry at God because you feel like an orphan, know that their love hasn't changed and their memories forever remain.
Every day, I posted my sweaty selfie to my health and fitness accountability group.
