30 Aug Happy 3 Years?

A little while ago I got a text from my brother saying, “Happy 3 years.”

“Happy 3 years?” I replied.

“I don’t know what to say before the 3.”

Neither did I.

What are you supposed to say when you bring up the anniversary of a death?

It’s been 3 years since we lost our father on August 30th, 2009 to myelofibrosis, a rare blood disease. For those of you who have been following this blog since it’s inception, you know the story. For those who don’t, you can read what happened here and read my blog about the journey here.

By now, I’ve come to terms with the loss of my dad. It’s been a long journey, but at this point, it’s just my life. I still miss him every day, but I am used to him not being here.

It’s kind of weird to look back over the past couple of years and think of all that has happened since he’s been gone. To be honest, I never would have thought anything that I have experienced since his passing would have ever happened to me. I didn’t think I’d end up going to graduate school in New York, I didn’t see myself dating who I dated, I didn’t see myself in the job I am in now, and I didn’t see Uncover Ostomy being as amazing as it is today. Would this all have happened if he was still here?  Would he be here to congratulate me on my Master degree? Would he be here to grill my past boyfriends? Would he be there to discuss my future career plans? Would I have poured all of my efforts and energy into this campaign?

Maybe it all still would have happened. Maybe where I am right now is where I’m supposed to be.

Or maybe, just maybe, his passing pushed me to work harder and be better and strive for the best I could get in everything I set my mind to. Maybe.

Nevertheless, I still wish he was still here today.

I still remember the last one-one-one time we spent together before he was admitted to the hospital. We were sitting side by side on the couch in the basement, both in pajamas. It was a small couch so he was close. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember his tone of voice. I could tell, through his words, that he was scared of the future he was to face. But I could also tell that he was proud of the future he could see I was going to have.

I hope I’ve done him proud.