Written March 12, 2019
Happy Birthday, Daddy 💙
You always said on your birthday to look at the sky. If it was blue and the sun was shining, it meant that it wasn't going to snow and we were finally going to have spring. If it was otherwise, it would snow again before spring finally came. It always held true. Just like you always held true. Today we had bright blue skies and I know you might of had something to do with that. It'll be a year next month, since you've been gone. It doesn't feel like it. It still doesn't feel real. I feel like I can just call you and hear your sweet voice and laugh, but everytime I turn to do it, I remember. Nothing can prepare you for losing a parent. Nothing can prepare you for the time it takes for that hole to heal. I don't think that that hole ever will, because I was your babygirl. And I was a daddy's girl from the get go. Between fishing, to riding in the truck, to listening to nickelback so much I burnt you out on it, to just enjoying nature, listening to your jokes and stories (even if you had already told them before), going to you when I needed you most, helping you when you needed someone, just everything. And it hurts so much, it gets so hard sometimes. But I stay calm and work through it as best as I can because I know you are beside me through it all. I just wish I could talk to you again, see you again. I miss you so much. I love you. Happy birthday. 💙

Monday April 23, 2018

Today, God has taken someone very dear to me. He has made my father one of his many angels.

I never thought you would have gone this soon. It was weird..I was in class...didn't even know that you had already passed and yet, while people were giving their presentations, all i could think about was you. I started to write a letter to God. All I could write about was, why you. Why such a wonderful man? Why my rock, my foundation, the glue to our family? Why God had to take you? I knew you were suffering, I knew you had a hard life. But I also knew, you put us first. You cared for us until you couldn't any longer. You loved us, no matter our doings. I lost Nanna, your mother, three years ago. The docotrs gave you a year last January, but I didn't take it literal. I couldn't see you dying. I couldn't see the day that I wouldn't hear your laugh anymore, that I wouldn't feel your bear hug or hear your voice anymore. That I wouldn't hear the countless jokes and stories that you told over and over because you couldn't remember that you've already told them. I never thought that would come a day so soon. I never thought that that day would be today. I talked to you on the phone, asked you how you were, told you I loved you. I didn't think that that would be the last time that I would talk to you. That I would say those words to you. But alas, God had other plans for you. I know you aren't suffering anymore. I know you are happy and that you are with your mom, dad, grandma and grandpa. I just wish I could have been there to hug you one last time. To hear your laugh one last time. I love you and I'm going to miss the hell out of you. I still can't believe that your gone.

I wish I could have heard you say that you were proud of me one last time. But I know that you are. I'm not sure how to process this. It's going to be hard. But I'll be okay. Because I have you and everyone else guiding me.

I love you daddy. And I'm not sure what I will do without you. But I know that I will continue to make you proud.

Written: April 23, 2019

No one can prepare you for death, no matter whom it is. But most importantly, no one can prepare you for losing a parent, a father. No one prepares you when you feel the need to take on the role as the strong one and care for everyone else. No one prepares you for the moments when you have to comfort your niece or mother because she lost someone dear to her too. No one prepares you for the grief that you will run away from but it'll eventually hit you like a ton of bricks. No one prepares you for that depression, anxiety, anger, resentment, guilt, wishes, and pain. No one prepares you for that feeling of losing the only man that truly ever loved you since they day you were born. You don't have that chance to prepare. You don't have that chance to heal in advanced.

Because you never know when it truly hits. You never know when it's going to happen, how its going to happen, where, and why. I faced days, wondering when I was going to feel my grief. Would it be during the service? Would it be during the burial? Would it be a week later? A month? A year? You're never prepared to have that heart wrenching hole inside your chest, missing the man you used to look up to. The man you wanted to be at one point.

It's been a year, today, and some days it still doesn't feel real. It still doesn't feel like a reality. It feels like I could just go home and see him. Like he will walk in that door and give me one of his hugs that I so desperately want and need. I struggled. I still struggle with this. I thought I could work through this on my own. I thought I was strong enough to get through college with a breeze, help others, and THEN worry about my problems. But I've learned all too quickly that that isn't the case. That that could never be the case. I needed help and I got it. I reached out among family, friends, professors, counselors, and God, seeking help. And through them, I am building my strength. Because strength isn't something you can obtain alone. It's best in numbers, it's best with support from those around you whom love you and care for you and your well being. I can't say that this grief process is getting any easier, but it's not getting harder. And I feel like I'm set to be on the right path. The path that will help me succeed and make my dad proud. Everyday is a struggle, slowly but surely, it'll turn into a smoother passage. I may be sharing this on deaf ears (or in this case blind eyes bc social media) but let this be and insight. Don't go through whatever you are going through, alone. Reach out. You're not alone in this and you never will be.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
It's been one year without you, today, Daddy. A year that has felt like an eternity and a day, all in one. It's funny how time works like that, huh. I love you and I hope I'm doing what I can to make you proud. I miss you.

When you lose someone to death, they never tell you how hard or how easy the grief process can be.

They never tell you about that heartache that you feel inside your chest every time you think of the person you lost. That constant hole inside your chest and how, no matter how much you try to fill it with other things, it never goes away. They don’t inform you that certain songs, movies, or shows can trigger emotions deep inside of you and make you lose your **** sometimes. You’re never told about the constant days and nights, sobbing, unable to move as you just lay there and wish you were dead. Not because you wanted your life to end, but because you wish you were with that person again. They don’t tell you about your subconscious and how it’ll try to find every little thing that can relate to that person, just to try and get a grasp of hope that they might still be on earth, that they might still be alive.

No one tells you about the guilt you feel, for every negative impact you had with that person while you were alive. Let alone the guilt you face when you are supposed to do them proud and you feel as though you are failing them. They never tell you that that person might have taught you a lot of things in life, but they never taught you how to live your life without them, how to go on without them, how to move on from them. They never tell you about the constant stomach ache, the terrifying and rippling anxiety that you get every time someone mentions their name. You’re not told about the sting in your eyes or the pain of the lump in your throat as you try your best to prove to everyone that you are okay, when in fact, you are far from okay. The jaw clenching, the anger, the countless holes in the wall or dents in the ground that perfectly show an imprint of your knuckles, because you can’t seem to swallow your emotions anymore. They never tell you about the screaming, the anger towards the person that passed or really anyone and everyone for that matter.

They never talk about how antidepressants don’t work anymore or counseling just doesn’t seem like enough. You’re not told about the amount of times that you’ll space out during the day; whether you’re in class, at the marker, or in the shower. They don’t tell you about the shaking of every limb on your body because you ache to be able to reach for that person again, the shaking of your insides because you try to hold in or emotions. They let you know that the first year could be the hardest, or that you could be numb and the second year hits harder. About the countless holiday’s, birthdays, and anniversaries that you will miss and how it just becomes all the more painful each reminder. They don’t tell you about the nightmares. How you’ll relive every moment all over again and once you wake up, you’re forced to face the reality that it’s not true.

Throughout losing someone, you’re not told a lot of things. But most importantly, you’re not told about the fleeting moments you get for a split blissful second you have this butterfly feeling where everything is fine, that person didn’t pass, and you think they will call, you’ll call them, or they’ll walk right through that door soon. As if you hadn’t gone through all that pain and as if you hadn’t watched their soulless body be buried underground. And for that very very brief second, you feel normal and free. But as soon as it comes, it goes away just as fast and you’re faced with the brutal reality that that feeling was just an anomaly, a fluke, maybe even a daydream. Then you’re left to think about it for weeks on end, wondering why you felt that way in the first place when you /know/ they are gone.

Least to say….people don’t speak up. They don’t tell you a lot about grieving and how alone it can feel not knowing. But I just told you a small fraction of my side and believe me when I tell you, /you’re not alone/. /And you will never be alone/.

Dear future self,

(First I'll ask) How are you? How's your wife or husband? The kids? How's life treating you?

I know it was hard but it's gotten better..., hasn't it?

(Then I'll go on) Let me give you some advice, that hopefully you will follow.

Don't be like your dad. Don't get into drugs and waste your money away on them. Only to yell at your children when you don't have anymore. Don't be like your dad in the sense of fighting with your husband or wife until they cry. Don't push them away or sleep in an opposite bed, just because of their flaws. Don't act like you love them when you can't even love yourself. Don't settle down and have a family until you know you are stable and know you have taken care of your mental illnesses that eat you alive inside, only to hold a gun to your wife and not remember a single thing to happen.

Don't be like your mom. Don't support your significant other if he or she is tied in with drugs and abuse. Don't leave and then come back so your child can continue to go through your suffering just because you think "you love him". Don't fight with your child until she wants to leave or locks herself in her room just because she feels you hate her, of him if the matter comes to a son. Don't claim you want to **** yourself then disappear without another word, leaving your child behind to fend for themselves against their thoughts and worries of you. Don't let your child wrestle you for a gun that you plan to shoot yourself with. Don't have a family unless you have fixed yourself and prepared yourself.

Don't be like your sibling. Don't hold your children over your parents head and blame you're sibling for attention. Don't ignore your illness and replace real medication with drugs. Don't treat your children as if one is better than the other.


I know it's a lot to take in. A lot of advice to you. But hunny, it's better this way than to let your children relive what you went through. Continue to be different. Continue to be you. Be yourself and you will find happiness. Work hard and you will find gratitude. Don't be your family, and you will find unconditional love within your own family that you have never felt before.

Sincerely,
Past Self.

There's something about a cookie cutter that many people like. How perfect it is, how it's handy and controlling, how it's the regular norm for a normal family.

So, they believe, "maybe my kid can be the same". Maybe they can transfer their kids perfectly in life like a cookie cutter can with dough.

But in all reality, not everyone fits that cookie cutter mold. So, they are forced, being shoved into the cutter and broken in the process, leaving them perfect but bruised.

Then once that dough is baked and life is towards its end, they are thrown away as they aren't perfect like all the rest. They are cracked and crumbled. Though, mom still continues, shoving her little dough boy or girl into the cookie cutter, trying to get a new one perfect since she threw away the last... But alas..this one is different too.

In an imaginary world, the mother would have thrown away the cookie cutter and loved the dough the way he or she was.. But instead this is reality, where being cookie cutter perfect is the only option.

Stress. Stress. Stress. That's all life ever is. Kids don't plead to be older. It's a trick. You'll soon wash away into everything all at once and feel like you're drowning. You'll panic so much and worry so much that you just want to sit and cry for days and days and days. Just run away. Stay a child for as long as you can. Don't grow up. Because the process is a burden. Don't get caught in that wave and think everything will be fine, that you can handle it's force, when you end up going under it instead. To those already there, keep fighting to be above that wave. Fight for that ship that has yet to sink that will take you out of the forceful grasp. Don't give up.