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...
I thought my last post was a little angry. (True, but aggressive). And I know better than that. I pride myself in being pretty good at turning anger into something lighter. So I found a reason to thank you. When I came to terms with the fact that I couldn’t do this anymore (and by ‘do this’ I mean suffocate from our friendship) I was distraught. Like I just wasted such a big part of my life on you. I felt empty. Because you drained every last feeling I had out of me. I was no longer sad, or tired, or lonely, just empty. But all that's changed. And I felt like that for a long time. I looked at old pictures of us and I missed you and I wanted to call you and ask you to hang out again. I spent even more wasted time on wondering if it was my fault, if I drove you to act the way you did to me, and wondering why you just left me here to think about these things with no explanations. Finally, though, I can say there’s a lot that I learned from you. Here is ten entire reasons wh...