It was a Saturday one year ago when I received the call that my dad was intubated in the hospital.
Somehow as soon as I heard those words, my heart already knew what was to come. Though my dad had been hospitalized multiple times since his brain tumor back in 2002, this time felt different.
Immediately I set aside my work for the day, called my mom to ask her to nurture my babes and set out to Palm Springs to see my dad.
I could feel the finality of it the entire two hour drive.
Every breath felt like I was walking to the end of this part of the journey.
The years when I was my dad’s daughter in this life.
The years when I’d hear his gravelly voice singing “happy birthday to you.”
The years when I still held onto hope he’d be more present and engaged with me, with my daughters.
The years when I’d know he was out there, doing his thing, always my dad.
Arriving at the hospital felt like a heart wrenching scene from a movie. Surreal.
Signing in, placing my name tag on my blue shirt, walking my boots down the hallway, passing through the door a kind stranger held open for me to the ICU…into that space where so much sadness is held.
Meeting with angels masquerading as nurses who brought me water to drink and tissue for my tears. Who gave me hugs and encouragement and held space for me to sit with my father for the afternoon.
Four hours I stayed. His hand in mine most of the time. Our left hands wrapped together, him silent and still, me humbled and breaking.
Looking back on this past year since my dad died, I see how much I’ve processed. How much I’ve grown. How much I’ve accepted.
My dad was never who I wanted him to be. He was who he chose to be.
And the best thing I can do to feel peace in my heart is to honor who he was. And appreciate what I may.
I remember last year right after he died, I felt like I was alone, floating on a sea of sadness. The solitude of grief can be overwhelming.
Letting myself rest, be nurtured, be held. Letting myself feel all the feelings, express and honor my sadness. Letting myself connect with nature, slow down, savor the moment in whatever simple sacred way I could.
This is what healed me. Is healing me. Feeling all the feelings. Honoring each one. Feeling, witnessing, holding space for the experience.
Still there are moments where a swell of grief will overtake me. And I feel bewildered by how exhausted I am or how snappy. But when I settle into what is happening for me, I remember that I am human. I feel. I am still letting go. I am still remembering my dad is dead. I am still feeling all the feelings that come with the finality of the death of someone we love.
Just the other day, I woke from a dream…I had opened a door to see my dad’s beloved cowboy boots coffee cup on the floor just across the threshold. All I had to do was walk through the door, reach down and pick it up.
I could feel his energy with me. I could feel the certainty of that coffee cup. I could see my dad drinking from that coffee cup on Saturday mornings when I was a little girl and we still lived together. I could see that coffee cup sitting on the table at his home the last time I visited him with my girls. I could see that coffee cup here with me still.
The thing is, it’s not the coffee cup that holds the memory or the connection to my dad.
It’s my own heart, the experiences we have shared and the feeling of remembering.
No matter what, I can feel my dad’s energy with me. It’s curious that sometimes now I feel his energy even more than before he died. When I take a walk on the beach, when I am dancing with my daughters, when I am driving my car…at any point during the day, the feeling of my dad’s energy can suddenly wash over me.
Only now it’s getting easier for this wave of emotion to evoke a smile of love rather than tears of pain. To remind me how grateful I am to be his daughter…not because our relationship was perfect, but because I loved him, I love him still. And I love this beautiful life I get to live.
We all want to be happy, to feel loved, to be present and engaged in our lives.
And I hope that most of your days feel dreamy, joyful.
But when you do feel sad, when you feel the weight of grief, I hope you’ll honor yourself and your experience, let yourself feel all the feelings…
Rest. Nourish your body. Receive support. Connect with nature. Be gracious with yourself. Give yourself permission to honor your experience. Do the things that feel aligned to you. Ask for the space or help or witness or love you need to process. Trust that you’ll find your way.
This being human thing is beautiful and tragic and oh so magical.
Wherever you are today or tomorrow or a year from now, may you feel all the feelings.
And experience the magic of love in all you do…
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