1 Year.

It’s been one year since I got the phone call. One year since my sister uttered that phrase. One year since I sat on my couch hunched over crying and hyperventilating.
One year since I lost my best friend, my hero, my Dad.

This past year has been difficult, too difficult to really put into words. It’s hard to explain, even to my family, the magnitude of my sorrow. But, to be honest, I try not to explain it to anyone anymore, because this year has been the worst and best year of my life and it’s hard for anyone to truly understand that.

My Dad died and then I found out I was pregnant and then I graduated law school and then I studied for and took the bar exam and then I gave birth and then I started a business.

I’ve cried almost every day for various reasons. If it wasn’t because of my Dad then it was because of my pregnancy. If it wasn’t because of law school then it was because of the bar exam. If it wasn’t because I was sleep deprived then it was because I was fighting with Bret. I think the biggest reason is because this was supposed to be my year. Everything important in my life was happening this year and my Dad was supposed to be there. Law school, the bar exam, and children. He was supposed to be there and it kills me that he isn’t.

This year has tested me in more ways than one. It tested all of my relationships, my stamina, my physical endurance, my patience, my intellect, and my emotional stability (or lack thereof).

It’s been quite a year and I’m exhausted.

I miss my Dad more than words can describe. I wish I could have five more minutes with him because I have so many questions and I just want one last hug.

Today is a struggle for one more reason: I get my bar exam results.

He was supposed to be with me when I found out. I imagined we would be at his house and he would crack open a bottle of wine the minute I found out, either to celebrate or console. Or we would be at our favorite restaurant, where he would have our waiter on stand-by ready to bring a plate of guacamole dip and a raspberry margarita.

I still feel like George O’Malley from Grey’s Anatomy when he said “I don’t know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.”

I feel like part of me is in limbo and I know, with time, it will get better. I hope this next year without him will be a little bit better than the last. Until I get to point where I can say “I’m okay” and mean it, I’m just going to take it day by day.

For a while after he died, I kept wondering when things will start to feel normal again or go back to being normal. But this is my new normal.

My new normal is a gaping hole in my life where my dad used to be. It’s the Saturday’s I won’t spend eating donuts and eating Mexican food with him. It’s the hour long phone calls I don’t have where he would tell me about every little detail of his life since the last time we talked and hearing another story from my childhood again.

I wish this wasn’t the way it had to be. I’d give anything to go to VG’s or Tony’s with him again. But I’m telling my heart to beat again because he wouldn’t want to me to live a life mourning him.

I heard the song “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again” by Danny Gokey recently (you can watch it below) and felt like this song fits my life so much right now. I’m constantly telling myself to keep going when I slow down and just mourn him for hours. But I can’t. I won’t let myself because I know that’s not what he would want.

So for now, I’ll keep going and hope that each day gets a little better and a little easier, no matter how broken I’m feeling.

I love you & miss you, Dad!

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  • paulainauckland November 19, 2017 at 2:20 pm Reply

    that’s a lovely post. You’re very lucky to have the memories, & to have Bret & bubs. <3

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