My dad died on Valentine’s Day from a cancer in his brain that he fought for a year and a half. I’ll talk about that more one day, but what I want to say now comes from the buildup and the fallout. What I want to say is not about the suffering and turmoil that I watched my dad and my family experience for that year and a half, or the milestones we hit every day that I never mentioned, like the last day he had ice cream or went outside. I want to talk about him and I will. But today, I want to talk about the aftermath. People don’t know what to say about death and dying. They tell you they’re sorry and they could never do what you’re doing, they tell you how strong you are and graceful you’re being, admire how you’re “back to work” or “still able to have fun”. Grievers are told time and time again, nobody knows what the right thing to say is. And we have grace. Giggle it off and nod our heads, tell them thank you and it’s okay. Because it is okay. They aren’t doing anything wrong t...
Four, almost five months ago, my life changed. I would say it changed forever but I still don’t know if it’s changed forever or just for now. For the people that know me, this story is probably boring, sad, and over-told. I get that. It’s probably annoying to hear about the worst day of someone’s life over and over and over again. And I can see how the feelings that come from someone who is suffering can become a burden on those around them. They just want to help. I know that. They feel defeated when they can’t. My whole life, everything has been almost laid out perfectly, like an outfit on my bed, or paint swatches for the spare bedroom. I have made easy choices, had complete control, had complete understanding of yesterday and tomorrow and the future. Then I crashed my car. Pretty badly. In the moments after the crash, hanging upside down, suspended by my seatbelt with my legs squished underneath the dash, I felt myself change. The airbags were slowly deflating, and the l...