A short piece I wrote in early in college for a scholarship:

“Is he dead?,” over and over I ask myself in the small office I was whisked into by a ghost. Even with streams of tears coming down my cheeks, no one gave me an answer, though I already knew the truth. My shaking and nervousness rapidly increasing as time went by, five, ten, twenty minutes, and then at half an hour of waiting, my mom came walking through the door, the officers following minutes later. While the officers were confirming the horrible answer to my question, my mind consumed itself with thoughts of my mother and siblings. How would they handle this, and how would we ever watch MasterChef, work out, play board games, or laugh without my father again?

While going home, life seemed fake as though part of a movie or, more accurately, a nightmare. Wanting with all of my being to wake up, I kept asking myself how this is even possible? Passing through my body, I felt laughter at the impossibility of him dying as my mom told my siblings our father would not be coming home. Over the following days numerous faces came and went, all with the word sorry on their lips. 

I now understand how complex the cycle of grief is. Everyday is full of moments correlating to grief, yet everyday is still full of joy and hope. I stress clean, cry, walk around in a haze, and do nothing. Sometimes anger takes over my thoughts. Other days are occupied by thoughts of what could have been, yet most of the time I feel depression seeping into every mundane task and into each and every thought crossing my mind. Even though I am full of grief and heartache, I am also living a life of joy due to a sweet three year old as a sister, a resilient role model as a mother, and an incredible support system of family.

A week before the death of my father, he was giddy and excited about something and after meeting in my parents room we were told my mom was pregnant. The week between finding out about the new addition to the family and my father’s death was full of happiness and conversations of the past and future. Dad and I even talked about how he wanted to be buried. I can see the foreshadowing now, but at the time all of our joy and experiences were part of the routine of life. 

Dealing with the loss of a parent is not easy, however, I am blessed to have an amazing family who remind me everyday how beautiful life is. The love and support I receive from my family has encouraged me to continue working hard and achieving my dreams throughout life’s unceasing trials. 

Through the loss of my dad, my family has taught me to find joy and beauty even through pain and tears. Given a reason to laugh or cry I will choose to laugh and use my experiences to positively influence other individuals in their times of trials.

J.M.J.