Recently, I was scrolling on Instagram when I saw a post that said, “Grief is a constant part of adulthood.” Had I seen this a year ago, I would’ve sat in confusion. Like yeah, I guess I wasn’t at the pinnacle of life, but I was satisfied.
Now, on March 3, 2025, I completely understand what the post was saying (and I am at peace with the thought).
Today is the one year mark of my dad’s passing. On March 3, 2024, he died of cardiac arrest. In the two months beforehand, my dad was in and out of the hospital and slowly making a recovery before his death. I was worried, as any daughter would be, but I had that, “That wouldn’t happen to my dad yet. That wouldn’t happen to me,” mindset. Even when I got the call, I still texted my daddy to say, “I love you,” because I just didn’t believe it.
My dad and I’s relationship was growing every day in the time leading up to his passing. We started understanding each other, ironically, when I went away to college. He called every. Single. Day, no matter if I answered or not. Do you know how loved you are to have someone think about you every day?
I talked to him about my career goals, about my day, even about boys. He would talk about his college DJ show (DJ RPM, “rests per minute,” was a play on his name, Robert), his dreams of moving to Florida after he retired, and somehow the Steelers, Edenborough University, or nagging me about my spending happens; his favorite phrase was, “You can’t have steak on a hotdog budget.” My dad taught me a lot about adulthood: how to manage money, how to forgive, how to keep going after your dreams. He was one of my best friends.
After his passing, my life did a complete 180–and let me tell you, life does not stop for the passing of a parent. There are funeral arrangements that have to be made. There are credit card companies you have to call to talk to about remaining balances. You have to figure out what to do with his belongings… the list goes on. I was his only daughter and since my mother and my father were divorced, all the responsibility fell on me. At first, I tried to avoid it. The week of his passing, I spent the first day manic cleaning my apartment. Then, I spent every day after that watching 27 Dresses and NCIS: New Orleans on repeat (my mom was so worried about me she got me a book and offered to read it with me to stop my brain from rotting).
That was the initial shock. Over the course of the year since, I moved away from my comforts, my friends, and my life that I built in Philadelphia to come back home and take over his affairs. And there’s a striking difference between my hometown and Philadelphia. However, in this time of patience and reflection, I have learned more about myself and my dad than I could’ve ever even conceptualized—which I think was the purpose of it all:
Everything Happens for a Reason
I was so angry. On top of my dad’s passing, my car was totaled in a car accident, I lost out on my dream job due to company restructuring, and I had to move back home—a city girl in a suburban, leaning rural, town. But when you hit your lowest of lows, your highest highs are on the way. I prayed for a new-ish car, an SUV (and if I was lucky it would be a Jeep), and that’s exactly what I got when I took over my dad’s car. I prayed about an opportunity that would allow me to work on my craft as a journalist, and now I get to experience working at Just N Life.
Redirection, though uncomfortable, is not a bad thing. Redirection does not mean rejection of the plan you had for yourself, it’s just the scenic route.
Go Looking For Them
I used to think my dad was just your average dad (dad jokes included). He was a business man, he fixed my car when it was broken down, and he hated the outfits I wore to happy hour–especially a crop top. However, the moment I walked into his funeral procession, I knew my dad was special. I didn’t spend any of the budget on flowers and yet, the room was in full bloom. There were flowers from old college buddies, coworkers, family, friends, and neighbors—it moved me to tears. My dad was so loved—and actually cool according to all the stories I heard about him that day!
I didn’t spend any of the budget on flowers and yet, the room was in full bloom.”
Then came cleaning out his car and house. Again, my dad was actually cool! I found Biggie Smalls and Snoop Dogg CDs, I found resumes in his briefcases and his name in business journals, I found golf clubs (apparently a new hobby he had picked up), I found stylish clothes; I found out who my daddy really was.
That brings me solace. Even though his life was cut short and I can’t ask him all the questions that pop into my brain, I know I will find the answer in the spaces of his life, in the memories he left behind. In that, I grow a deeper appreciation and love for the man my dad was every day.
Appreciate the Life You Have
I have a roof over my head. I have food and clean water. I have family and friends that love me. I have a stable job. It’s the basics and for that I am grateful. This is not to say you should practice toxic positivity–you’re allowed to be angry, confused, and sad. Losing a parent is a life-altering incident. But, try to focus a little harder on those everyday blessings that we take for granted.
Be Realistic
This one comes with a little bit of tough love. Not everything can be perfect. Not everything will go the way you want. There is no timeline to grief—damn it, there’s really no timeline to life at all. If you put that pressure on yourself, you’ll only make this experience worse. Yes, life is short and I learned that in examining the 56 years of my dad’s time. However, pauses in life are necessary. Grief in life is necessary. When that time comes, you can’t control it or fight against it; you just have to adjust with it. I am not, “strong,” and I don’t always have it together. I am, however, “soft and resilient.” I’m just a girl, who’s sometimes categorized as a type B hot mess, that’s still learning how to be an adult. That adjustment is real and in that space is where my resilience lies.
I am not, ‘strong,’ and I don’t always have it together. I am, however, ‘soft and resilient.'”
Lean On Community
God, my family, and my friends are the reasons I wake up and smile every day. The love I was shown after my dad passed was a blessing. My family handled the logistics of his funeral and insurance policies when I couldn’t bring myself out of bed. My best friends sent flowers and Edible Arrangements and drove 8 hours to surprise me at my dad’s funeral. Every restless night, they were on FaceTime; sometimes drove to my hometown for the weekend, just to check on me. And I let them— because a big part of having community is accepting the help of that community. I thank God for the people in my life. He knew I would need them.
Honorable mention: my dad’s best friend is now my friend. When the Steelers were playing, he texted me to say that he was thinking about my dad. And soon, we are grabbing lunch together.
Even though my dad isn’t with me, I don’t feel any less love in my day to day. If anything, the love he had for me is extended through the people he left behind.
Never Stop
In your aspirations, in your growth, and in your pursuit of happiness—whatever that entails for you. Never stop. I won’t, because I know that’s what my dad would’ve wanted.
He’s watching over me. He’s rooting for me. He’s protecting me.
I love you, dad. Until we meet again.
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