When You Lose Your Cheerleader

One of the hardest things to comprehend about an extreme loss, especially when you lose a parent, is the loss is bigger than them just not being there. It's a confidence shaker. Why? Think about your parents, and all the times they stood behind you or all the things of yours they came to...they've been your biggest cheerleader and supporter. Now think what a life without that unconditional emotional support is like. One thing I miss so much (although if he was here, he'd drive me nuts about it) is having him be the cheerleader as I venture through unemployment. He would've annoyingly "solved" the problem by pestering all his contacts until one of them hired me to shut him up. He'd be on the sidelines of my life rooting me on to get the job. 

I share all of this to help people who haven't lost immediate family understand more about all the ways the loss affects you. It's physical, and it's emotional in all aspects. It also doesn't matter that he's been gone so many years, in fact the length of his time gone is sometimes harder. All these moments, decisions and life choices made...without my other cheerleader screaming obscenities as he roots on his little girl. Tonight, I really miss him and wish I could hear his voice. 

Spirits Around Us

I've always been a firm believer that the spirits of relatives who have passed are around us constantly. I've had several encounters with my dad and grandparents in the 18 years since my Grammy and 16 years since my dad and Poppy passed. From feeling them to seeing white marks in pictures, all along the journey of life, I've encountered them. 

Last night, they clearly wanted their presence known. Mom, Charlotte and I went to a family reunion for my Grammy's side of the family. I tell mom we need our pictures taken because we're rarely all dressed with hair and makeup on at once. We're on the porch with mom's brothers and Grammy's brother, and my uncle snaps a bunch of pictures of the three of us. Nothing crazy, just an iPhone camera, no editing, just a bunch of about 15 pics. I get the phone and start looking at them. 

I'm not kidding when I say EVERY single picture we're covered in these white marks all around our faces and arms. 15 photos with changing from the three of us, to mom and me, to Charlotte and me. All of them. I get goosebumps looking at these. You can say it's the lighting or whatever, but as a believer who has had this happen to photos all these years, I know without a shadow of a doubt, my family surrounded the three of us. If they can't be here physically, they're here with their presence. ❤️ 

Here's one of the pictures with no editing: 

When Father's Day Finally Became Happy Again

Until June of 2014, Father's Day was always a day full of grief. I watched as friends posted happy memories of their dads, but I only had pictures to post of what I once had. My pictures show the age of how long it had been without him. 14 years of a day centered around celebrating a man who wasn't there. It was too devastating to bear. Then, like a sign from dad, my daughter was born on Father's Day weekend. I got to celebrate the day again by celebrating my husband as a dad. He's the best dad! So loving, doting and caring...he makes her world go round. The day finally became filled with happiness again. I was able to buy Father's Day gifts again, and the day isn't as bad anymore. Don't get me wrong, I still absolutely miss my dad. This day still hurts because he's not here, but my husband and daughter make it better. I would give anything to be able to call or see my dad, and I will when I leave this world, but until then, I have these two to enjoy. 

Happy Father's Day to my daddy in heaven, and to my amazing husband!

And if you still have your dad, call him, see him, hug him and tell him you love him. One day, you won't be able to do it anymore. 

The Way I Know He's Still Here...

When my dad died, one of the worst thoughts I had was knowing he would never meet my husband or children. At the time, it was merely a thought, but what happened years later is one way I know he's still with me. 

I've had moments throughout these 16 years where I've felt his presence, or known it was my dad running the show up in heaven that lead me to where I was. For one, I know he handpicked my husband, and found a way to get me to move to Ohio to meet him. And, It's also hard to deny the magic of heaven when my cousin drove down from Ohio while my dad was dying to share a little secret that made his appearance on my birthday, nine months later. But, on to the reason for this post in the first place...

As my daughter has grown up, and her hair actually came in, we've noticed it has an undeniable strawberry blond color. She gets it from my dad. It's a daily reminder that she has his DNA. He lives on through this mutual puzzle of genetics. There's Irish in that girl, and to me, it feels like it's a sign from my dad that he's still here. And, yes, it's technically a genetic luck of the draw that she got it, but it makes me smile everyday. Grief takes so many things away, but it gives back in strange little ways...this is one for sure!

Until It's Your Loss...

Have you buried a parent, spouse, sibling or child? Especially, when it was way before their time to leave this earth? If you have, you'll totally relate. If you haven't, pay attention because this post will help you be more empathetic to those in your life that have. My dad died of stomach cancer when I was 16. I'm now 32. I lost something beyond imaginable to most. Every single day, I think of him. Some days it's a happy memory, and some days I cry because I miss him or I'm still pissed over what I lost. In layman's terms, half of my life has been spent missing someone. A missing and longing with the ultimate finality. To see him again will be the day I leave this earth myself. If you've never buried an immediate family member, you have no idea how painful it is to long for the person and the life you lost with them until it's yours. 

Not a day of your life passes without thinking of that person. There is always something that reminds you of them. Now imagine what it feels like on holidays, birthdays and anniversaries. Some years on these days, I'm smiling as I think of him (and actually most holidays this is true), but my dad’s birthday and anniversary of his death always seem to haunt me. Some people who grieve have the ability to live these days as another day and grieve at different times. I am simply not able to do that. I think especially for me, the anniversary of his death reminds me of the day my childhood ended. No 16-year-old kid should have to wake up to her father’s body drained of life. But I did. That is the last memory of the man who was bigger than life, full of wisdom, full of energy, a giant-hearted man. I felt so robbed of the life we would've had. It all died in that moment. Therefore, every year when this day comes about, I'm a total mess. 

But the saddest part to me is if I didn't post on social media about it, most of the people in my life wouldn't even know what the day is. To most, it's just another day. The day that changed my life, destroyed dreams, and took away half of the reason I'm alive is nothing more to most than a typical day. And I get it, this day doesn't directly affect you. But it makes me a full on mess.

So, my point of this post is to be a better friend to those who are brave enough to post on social media about their loved ones. Whether it's the anniversary or just a regular day where they're posting, engage with them. They're sharing because they're in need of love. 

We're heartbroken, and yes, we're seeking the engagement because we need to know others love us and remember the person we lost. And if you knew the person who passed, please comment about how amazing they were or share a memory of that person. Because for a fleeting moment they come back to life when you share a memory. (And to those who did this for me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your words and kindness make those days better. I love each and everyone of you so much!) We may know the story you share or we may not, but you have no idea what it means to us. Please call us, text us, send us a message/email or comment on our post. We may not respond in the moment, but you will have changed the course of the day. Why? Because we're not alone, we're loved, and most importantly, our loved one is loved. 

Talk to me Goose...

It's so interesting to me even after all the years that have gone by since my dad passed away how in the most unlikely of places and moments something instantly reminds you of the loved one you lost.

My dad was a huge personality, and he loved to embarrass, impress, annoy or over-the-top show his love. I so distinctly remember how my dad loved to blast the volume and show off his surround sound system. It reminds me of the part in the Italian Job one of the characters wants speakers so loud it would blast a woman's dress off. Dad loved to crank it loud, pump up the bass and shake everything in the area. He got such a kick out of it. I've lost a lot of memories of him, but this is one I'll never forget. Dad's favorite movie/soundtrack to use? The opening song in Top Gun. So melodic, with the navy planes blasting and a ton of boom, it was his giddy joy to make people jump when all the loud noises kicked in.

A couple of weeks ago, I was visiting with my former boss and his son took me on a tour of their home. The highlight was the movie room. As he worked to play something and crank the volume, the memory of dad came top of mind at a speed of quickness I can't explain. It's sad and joyous all in the same moment. Grief does that, pulls many emotions out all at once. As they talk and play a movie, all I can think about is that moment and what life would be like if he were here today. I just know dad would have a movie room with Top Gun constantly prepped to play at a moments notice. 

I'm even reminded of it again as I scroll through our DVR to pick a movie to fall asleep to and pass Top Gun in the list. I crack a smile, a tiny laugh and a have brief memory of the first man I loved. Maybe it's a subtle way he reminds me he's still around or just a precious internal way of keeping him alive, but I love it. For a brief moment he's alive again and never left. I live for little moments like this. It's what anyone who grieves does. In the midst of a point in life filled with uncertainty, this give me peace. What a wonderful gift.   

16.

16 years. This anniversary of my dad's death tomorrow means something different this year. I was 16 the day my dad left this earth and went to heaven. I've been dreading this one since the moment he died. I figured it out in my head that day. So, what's the significance behind this one? It means every second, minute, hour, day, month and year from this moment on, I will have lived longer on this Earth without my dad than with him alive. 

I feel as though my grief is stronger now than it was then, for many reasons. Mainly, my life has a deeper meaning since having a husband and baby. At the time, no big milestones had passed. Now, everything I realized he'd never be a part of has happened in the 16 years without him. I graduated high school, graduated college, got my first big girl job, met and married the love of my life and had a baby. All without the man who made my life possible. He's missed all of them. 

I really grieve today what I didn't know I had lost then. Grief doesn't end just because a certain number of years have passed. I think of him everyday. More than I did in the years immediately afterwards. It was a long, messy journey to reach this day. There was more heartache than I ever knew one person could feel. A part of me died the day he left. And since that day, when I see a butterfly, hear a certain song, drive through his hometown or stare at my daughter's hair (that is my dad's exact color), my heart fills with loss and the tears flow. What no one can explain is the lifelong sadness you continuously feel, which for me has grown stronger with each day that passes. 

From the moment I wake up tomorrow, I will have truly lived a lifetime without the man who shaped the woman I grew in to. I hope he's had a front row seat to it in heaven -- and is proud. I think he is. I hope he continues to be my guardian angel and guides me through life from a far. May he be the one who opens every window when a door closes for me, my mom, my husband and daughter. 16-32...I survived, in mainly one piece. I pray the next 16 years and beyond are full of wonderful experiences and my biggest cheerleader is rooting me on, all while telling all the other angels to gather the Bloody Mary's and come on over.

Late night grief

The worst part of grief....

Is that it sneaks up on you. As I lay in bed, I start praying. Life's been full of changes lately, and for the first time in forever, I've begun praying. I need guidance. I lost my belief in God after my dad died. I've never fully regained it. But tonight, I needed him. As I pray for guidance about all the changes, the grief hits me. Like a ton of bricks....bam. I do the math and put together that it's been 16 years since my last Christmas with my dad. I've literally lived through more Christmases without him then with him. And here come the tears. The part that gets me is I don't remember many because I was a child. I'm heartbroken. I miss him. I'd give anything to have him here or at least remember more of them. The holidays can be overbearing no matter how long they've been gone. Time doesn't heal everything. Just remember those who grieve never stop...and grief never warns you when it will hit. Tonight grief won. Tomorrow begins a new day.

Waiting for the ball to drop...

One thing I've recently noticed that I never did before is that I'm a worrier. I don't feel like I was always like this, especially before my dad died. I think when you watch someone die, and a lot of people in a row, you're always waiting for the next "bomb" in life. For almost ten years, I was always learning that someone else I knew had died. From the time I was 12 until 22, I went to more funerals than some people do in a lifetime. It seemed just when you got over losing one person, life would knock you back to square one again. It was a continuous game of "Sorry."

Over time, I think this has majorly shaped how I look at the future and life, just waiting for it to kick me back down. I'm not always like this, but a lot of the time I am. I just never noticed it before. It's one thing I am really going to try to start doing better at. Sometimes we really don't choose to be so negative, it's just that we learned it in childhood and it formed part of who we are in adulthood.

10 Tips on How to Survive Grief from Someone Surviving Grief

I recently came across a Buzzfeed article featuring a cancer survivors business for empathy cards that speak the truth people want to say and hear during their fight. 

It made me think about so many thoughts about my dad, losing him and all the recent friends who have lost loved ones.

When I scroll through Facebook and see someone's post about losing someone close to them, I get this horrible gut-wrenching sorrow for them. Why is my feeling different than all the people outpouring their condolences on the post? Because I've been there. The moment your whole world stops. There is nothing worse. I want to tell them so many things, but when it's someone you haven't talked to in nearly 10 years, where do you start?

You start by sharing what you know. Here are my words of "wisdom" from one survivor of tragedy to someone just putting on the shoes to walk the journey of grief.

1. Grief is messy. Period. Trying to be "strong" and "fine" will not help you. Fall apart, be mad, cry, laugh, do it all. Only when you go through all the emotions, can you start to heal.

2. Time helps. I don't remember much about the funerals or the hospital. My brain has helped me not remember those parts because it's too painful. Through all the losses of my life one thing I've known is to give things a year. There is something about a year. The pain doesn't go away, ever, but life balances out more. New routines are established, and a new normal exists. Just know with time, comes more peace.

3. Nights are eerily quiet. I wouldn't sleep in my room for nearly a year after my dad passed. Later in my twenties, when I was all by myself in my apartment, hundreds of miles from my mom for the first time in my life, I couldn't shut out the fear. I eventually found the best thing to help me fall asleep: audiobooks. The Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum books saved my life! Audiobooks helped me drown out the complete quietness. They were monotone enough to fall asleep to, but they had enough noise to distract my thoughts. Seriously, download an audiobook.

4. Panic attacks are normal. I didn't properly grieve. I was a teenager who jumped right back in to life, and never slowed down for seven years. Between high school and college, I bypassed most of the stages of grief. They hit me like a ton of bricks when I moved to Ohio at 23-years-old. I couldn't hop in the car and be with my mom. I was living completely alone. Outside of my cousins, I knew no one in this new city. So my body went into panic mode. My stomach would get queasy. This warm, tingly feeling would start in my head and go all the way to my feet in seconds. My heart would beat so fast, and all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. After six months of tests, an endoscopy, and many doctor visits, my nurse practitioner said I was suffering from panic attacks. Which, by the way, are apparently very common in young women. Who knew? This leads to point number five...

5. Take the meds you need to balance out. You've suffered a tragedy. You're body and mind are out of whack. I went on an anti-depressant. It made the neurotransmitters start firing correctly again. It helped me learn how to manage and control my panic attacks. I also found that having a few Xanax pills by my bed made me more calm. I never took them except when I couldn't calm myself down from a panic attack through my breathing technique. I found that counting to five as I was breathing in and out would help me calm down. There is no need to be ashamed of needing something to help you. By speaking out about it, I found I knew so many people who used them too.

6. Read "A Grace Disguised." This book is SO helpful for anyone going through a loss. My favorite point he makes in the book is, no matter what the loss is someone is experiencing, it's a loss. A break up, divorce, death, it doesn't matter, it's all loss. Make sure you read it.

7. Write down your memories...now. It's so painful to do this one. You want to run away and escape the reality. However, memories fade. I have the hardest time remembering all the stories of my dad. 15 years later, all I want is to remember everything about him. Make a memory box. Put in all the cards and memos you get during the loss, pictures, cards from the person, anything that keeps their memory alive, put it in there. As humans, materialistic things that belonged to the person help us heal.

• Also, make a scrapbook when you're ready. It's incredibly therapeutic. I made one for the 10th anniversary. I look at it all the time, and it is my most prized possession.  

8. Ask for help. Tell people what you need them to do. Most people have no idea what to say or do, but they want to be there for you. If you need something to eat, or you just need them to sit there with you so you don't have to be alone...ask. Trust me, they want to be there for you.

9. Don't let anyone dictate how long it takes to go through the stages of grief. "It's been a year, get it over it." If you hear this one, tell that person to kiss it. Who are they to tell you how long it takes to get over the loss? I will NEVER get over losing my dad. Do what is best for you, and don't worry what others think about how you're handling your grief.

10. Grieve the person any day or time you need to. Yes, the dates (birthday, anniversary, holidays, etc.) are awful and sad, but when you need a moment to break down, do it! If a song comes on, a butterfly is near, the clouds break and you get a glimpse in to the heavens, remember that person then and there.

Make sure you tell their stories, keep their memory alive. You will find a way to navigate through life without them here, but you will be forever different. Accepting this will be so helpful.

Again just remember, grief is messy. Period.

15 Years

As I sat in bed at 4 a.m. today with my baby who woke up from the thunderstorm, it hit me, that exact moment 15 years earlier, I was in the hospital with dad as he was taking his last few breaths. It seemed so unrealistic to think how the little girl I was then handled such a big, drastic moment.

My favorite picture of my dad and me.

That whole day is a blur minus just a few moments. I remember the moment it happened, the nurses coming in, and how his whole body changed colors once the blood stopped pumping. How I got to the lobby to see my friend Lori who was on her way home in the wee hours, I don't remember. My only other memory of the entire day that changed my life forever is going through the Burger King drive-thru with my dad's friend, Rick. I needed breakfast. Such a normal thing that just a few weeks before I was doing with my dad, I realized in that moment I would never do that simple thing ever again with my dad. I almost felt guilty that I was already moving on. The way you process things at 16 is very different from how I would have felt if it happened now at 31.

When I was living through the loss, it was hard to imagine that I would get to this moment. It seems life will never go back to "normal." What I discovered is that it is a new normal. I think about my dad almost everyday. And the way my daughter sometimes stares up makes me wonder if he is visiting her. He is the reason I am here, which is the reason Charlotte is here. It is so special and amazing. Just a few weeks ago, we stopped in Canton on our way home from Cleveland and I took her to meet her grandpa. She played with the grass and I had to snap a memory of this special moment.

To me it meant life had come full circle. All those worries and tears led me to the life I have today with my amazing husband (that I know dad hand picked for me from heaven) and beautiful daughter.

As I grieve today, I also know that he made this life I have possible. For that, I am eternally grateful. I miss you daddy and love you so much. Until we meet again...

Facing Death, A Great Interview Brings Peace

(WATCH HERE) This clip is a must watch! I have struggled with my dad's death for 11 years. This interview brought a lot of emotions to the table. I now know what my dad was feeling all those years ago. That longing to see me grow, the need to get "it all in," and the struggle to find peace with death. I know he did the last week of his life, I know because my mom has told me. I cannot remember much of my dad anymore - time is a bitch. It makes you lose your memories. It is good in some ways. It is something I tell people going through loss. Your brain eventually helps you stop remembering the bad details. I don't remember my dad's actual funeral. The only reason I know there was some part of a military ceremony is because the flag sits in mom's office. I don't know what I wore, who was there, what was said - anything. It is a lot of picture memories of that time. This article brings peace to me in that I finally understand a piece of what my dad went through. He wanted to be there, and that is a great feeling, to know that I was really wanted by him. I can tell you that if he were still here today, we would fight like cats and dogs (same stubborn personality), but I never would have felt unloved. I am just in love with this story and interview. It goes to show that you continuously grow through loss. A must share...thank you CNN for this.

My Master Class

So, last week I watched Oprah's Master Class on her network, OWN. She said this line, and it really resonated with me. "Every single thing that has ever happened in your life is preparing you for the moment that is to come." - Oprah This got me to think about two things: 1. What is my moment to come? 2. What would my master class look like? My moment to come: I have no idea! Is it a career moment? Is it my upcoming marriage? Kids? House? Who knows? I hope it is just a moment that provides happiness. All those listed items would be wonderful and truly welcomed. Given the chance though, I would not want to know what is coming. Part of the joy in life is not knowing what the future holds. I'm ready for whatever comes - because I've had quite a few speed bumps in my life. My Master Class: life lessons of a grieving child. What I have learned the most from are my losses. I have more empathy for loss than ever expected. And apparently, I am good at giving advice on tough subjects. Everyone has a solution answer to any loss, "It will be ok, you're better off without him, it will only make you stronger, blah, blah, blah." This is what you say when you haven't experienced something that devastating. No one tells you how to get through the every day crap. Yes, you will be fine after a loss, but there is no time limit on how long it takes. And being fine is just getting through the crap, healing is a whole other beast. I'm still figuring out how to heal from the death of my dad. In two days it will be 11 years since he passed, and I am still not ok. You usually bounce back to your previous self within a few months, but no one understands what every waking up every day after that loss feels like. It is so hard to fall asleep at night, because then you are truly left alone with your thoughts, and it so damn scary! And when you wake up you have this peaceful moment, and then the reality sets in. I have found several solutions...reading great books, and audio books! They are monotone enough that you can fall asleep, but enough to block out your thoughts. My favorites, and the ones I listen to every night are Janet Evaonvich's Stephanie Plum Series. Also, the best grief book, and I thank my mom for making me read it (10 years later) , is A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss, by Jerry Sittser. ***Here are some disclosures about the books: if you are offended by any obscene language don't read the Janet Evanovich books - they are adult content. If your religious views are not of a Christian descent, A Grace Disguised may not be your cup of tea, but the overall message is amazing.*** Also, having panic attacks is not abnormal. Mine started four years ago. I have them under control now after consulting my doctor and understanding what they are. It took a while to know my triggers, and I know now. I have found through many conversations with women I know, they are very common. The pamphlet my doctor gave me said that they are most common in women in their twenties. A lot of life changes are just too much to handle and your body has reactions. Mine start with a warm feeling that starts in my head, moves down my body quickly and I get a numb feeling. Then my heart races, I sweat, and I feel like I am going to be incredibly sick to my stomach. I cannot breathe, I get the shakes and I feel like the only way I will be ok is that you have to take me to the hospital because I am dying. They say that they feel like heart attacks, and many people go to the hospital thinking they are having a heart attack, when in fact they are having a panic attack. I think the best advice of my master class would be that life is bumpy, grief is messy and there is no cure-all to loss. You have to take your own path, and hope that you have great friends, family and a spouse who can be there to help you. Casey knows when I say, "I'm having an attack," means stop what we are doing, help Meredith breathe and oddly enough - rub my stomach. I am reminded of a great quote from Sex and the City: Carrie: Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cites. People come into your life and people go. But it's comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you're very lucky, a plane ride away. (Read more) Friends really are the key to survival, and hopefully, just a plane ride away. I am blessed and still healing.