It has almost been a whole year since my father passed away. This past year without my dad has been challenging. In the last year, I lost the job that I had loved, partly due to burnout and trauma that I was enduring at work. I got the opportunity to get into a job I wanted two years prior that I was previously denied, and I realized that I am making an impact in others' lives through my grief. This past year has been sad, happy, and sometimes meh. Meh, meaning I don't have the words to describe it sometimes. Having a loss as terrible as my father's at the age of 29, when he guided me all of my life, was unthinkable.
I started to write a memoir on my grief experiences, but thanks to the ebbing and flowing of grief, I have hit writer's block many times. I have a podcast, but even then, I hit the blockage of not being able to produce content for it because I lack motivation when grief hits me. I learned very early on from a friend of mine that grief ebbs and flows. I didn't fully understand what that meant then, but almost a year later, I do. In the last couple of weeks, I have dreaded the ideas of what is coming, the anniversaries of when this whole experience started with my dad knowing something was wrong (October 22, 2023), the day that he went to the hospital when he fell outside of his office (November 15, 2023); and the day that he eventually passed away (November 20, 2023). Right now, I lack the motivation to do almost anything, but I am pushing myself to do things. It is unhealthy for me in my grieving process to continue to be depressed, but it is also expected. For so long after my dad passed, I was commended by family members for being so strong for my mother during the time that I forgot to grieve myself. For the last few weeks, grief has ebbed and flowed for me.
I cried at the funeral during a song that was played in the last moments of the service. I almost broke down during the first sentence of my eulogy, but I figured if I could make the crowd laugh, I had a shot at finishing it without breaking down. At 29, I didn't think I would be eulogizing my father for his accomplishments and remarkable life. Sometimes, I will talk to family and friends who say I have written a good eulogy, but that is not what I want to be known for. In the last couple of weeks, I have found myself crying more about my dad's passing. Listening to his voice on old voicemails, reading through old text message conversations, and listening to friends who gave us their condolences and who knew the pain we felt but couldn't imagine losing him either.
In the first conversations I had with my aunt Susan (one of my dad's sisters), we cried together, reminiscing about memories of him. She talks to him every day and tells him how she misses him. For the first months after my father passed, anytime someone would ask my mom how she was doing, she too would cry. She reached a point where that didn't affect her anymore, and it became routine. We had to adjust to our new normal. I remember telling my mom while my dad was in the hospital that whatever the outcome was, we would be okay. I miss him every moment of every day, and no one can replace him in my life. There are days when I am so depressed from his loss that I cannot even get out of bed or am so angry (from grief) that he was taken from us so soon that I have physical and mental exhaustion. I am thankful that such a fantastic support system surrounds us and that I have found it okay to reach out when I need something. I don't reach out as much as I should, but this is still new at eleven months. It feels like just yesterday was the last time I talked to my father. Grief isn't a perfect process, but I am making it.
The first holidays, my first birthday, and my mom's first wedding anniversary without him have already gone. My first Thanksgiving without him was a few days after he passed, and my first birthday was the day after his funeral. Our first two trips to Steamboat, where my dad loved spending his vacations, have both come and gone. I made it through my first baseball season without him, but he was with me at every game I attended. I wish I could talk to him about Paul Skenes. No one can ever fill the void that my dad left behind, but I have gained so many connections with his old coworkers. Our family has gotten closer in this experience, and we have overall grown from this last year.
As I wrote in a recent thank you letter to someone, baseball will never be the same without my dad, and neither will the rest of my life on this earth. He was a remarkable man, an accomplished businessman and golfer, and the best father I could have ever been blessed with. He worked hard for my mother and me all of his life, and we are grateful he was in our lives even as he is no longer physically here.
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