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.

Mother's Day

Today, I celebrated my first Mother's Day! It was so wonderful. We had breakfast with Casey's mom, sister, brother-in-law and nieces to celebrate all the moms. My big girl had pancakes and eggs.  Casey and Charlotte got me pearl earrings to thank me for everything. As a southern girl, it was the perfect gift! I've been so blessed with an amazing husband and daughter. I'm the lucky one, and today completely reminded me of this!

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...