It is already January 15th, and I have not posted my annual one and only blog post of the year, my New Year’s post. I cannot believe that is all I got out last year. Not going to lie, I am a bit disappointed in myself. I have several unfinished posts in my drafts, but none I ever got to finishing and posting. My goal last year was twelve posts, one post a month. That is totally doable, but I did not prioritize. I will try again this year.
2025 was a year, in fact, it has been the hardest year of my life so far. The first seven months were great. My two little sisters both had baby showers and new babies. A new nephew in April and a new niece in July. Our large family just keeps getting bigger. But then… one of the worst things imaginable happened.
On July 25th, by Dad got into a bad accident. On August 3rd, we lost him. Even though we are approaching the six month mark, it still feels like yesterday. I still get flashes from the hospital every day like little jump attacks. I still can go from totally happy to fighting back tears in an instant, or sobbing alone in my car. I still have the urge to call him every single day.
It is so easy to think that life isn’t fair. Lately, it has felt that way. It was only two years before my Dad passed that my husband’s Dad passed. The thoughts have crossed my mind multiple times, “How come WE do not get to have dads?”, “How come we didn’t get to keep even one of them?”.
Leading up to my Dad’s accident, the idea of forever good-byes was really getting to me. In stories, books, movies, a good bye was sending me over the edge. Perhaps it was a warning. A warning that I was getting a forever good bye. The permanence of it still has yet to sink in. When I think about what happened, I cannot help but think it is fake news. Like no, this is not my life, that could not happen. But it did, and it is permanent. An irreversible change. We KNOW death is permanent. But when it happens this close to you, to someone that has been your constant for your entire life, the someone that was not supposed to go yet because you had so much more you needed him for, when that happens, the realization of how irreversible death is hits you in the face like you never truly knew what death meant.
“…the realization of how irreversible death is hits you in the face like you never truly knew what death meant.”
Although I have a ton of family, I have such a sense of aloneness. Not in the way of feeling lonely, but feeling like I am on my own now. One of my sisters and I discussed this. Yes we are in our thirties, but I feel like a kid still. Who is supposed to guide me or look after me now? I am an adult with a family of my own, but I still always had my dad. The reminder that I once was a kid and he raised me. But he always told us that he did his job. That if he were to die today, he knew us girls would be okay. We will be. He raised us well, but that does not mean we will ever stop needing him.
Now we have reached 2026, a new year, and I have to say that my dad passed LAST year. I do not feel ready for that. It feels like he left us yesterday. We had a Celebration of Life for him last September. WHAT?! Lunacy. I remember feeling like I was at a fake event, living an imposter moment.
Yet the strange thing through all of this grief is that life goes on. We have kept on living. He would want us to, but there is also no choice. Time moves on and us with it. We have the choice on how we live it, but there is no stopping each tomorrow from coming.
My son is two now, and he is who keeps me moving. His world is full of discovery and new things. Continuing to see the world through his eyes keeps me moving forward. I do not want to hinder his childhood because I feel like I cannot move.
He saw me start to cry the other day because I listened to one of my Dad’s old voicemails. My son was all smiling and talking and saw my tears and stopped and looked so concerned. He said, “Mommy sad,” and gave me a hug. I needed it. And then we moved back on to playing with monster trucks.
I am not quite sure where I am going with this. Just know that I am still here despite the last year. I am working to continue to show up for my family and for myself. I am working to raise my son in a way that would make his Papa proud.
Queue “It’s a Great Day to be Alive” (my Dad’s favorite song) because it is. Each day is a gift, and we need to remember that.
Cheers to tomorrow. I love you Dad.


















