Posted on by shirindawna

life & death.

one year after losing my baba, it really is a matter of life & death. as i prepare to bring my first little into the world, i am missing my dad more than ever.

in his last few months, he promised me he would stick around to meet his grand babies. and the thing is, i know he’s keeping his word. i feel him with me and around me more than ever before…it may sound absurd, but the feeling of love, peace, and protection seems to have amplified since discovering i am fulfilling not only my greatest wish, but my dad’s as well.

before i ever knew i was pregnant i had dreams of my dad telling me how thrilled he was to finally be a grandpop. dreams that were hilarious to me at the time because i had no idea they were my reality…

i don’t believe in coincidences and i firmly believe that there is some divine intervention at work here. the universe always keeps a balance. i had an inkling that having my own child would somehow reconnect me with my dad, i just never knew how comforting or peaceful it would be.

he taught me to look up when things got tough. see the sky, drink in the world, work hard, play hard and believe that who you are is good enough. if someone doesn’t like it – then that’s their malfunction. on this first anniversary of my dad’s passing, i remember, with gratitude, my dad.

he loved us with the fiercest devotion i’ve ever witnessed. unconditional love, for life and beyond. i knew that then, and i feel it now.

as an adult, when i reflect on the people and places that make up my memories, i know that his was the single greatest influence on me. i have his eyes, his nose, his lips, and his ability to love, but that’s not what i mean…

he introduced me to art in all its forms. from beethoven’s 9th to the writings of shakespeare and poe; to the rugged majesty of athletes, as well as the magic of the theatre…no medium escaped his interest.

my dad stayed curious. he got older, but his spirit never did. it lit up a room until his dying day. his example is a legacy i aspire to.

i miss you everyday, dad.

while celebrating the life of the person i loved most, i am beyond happy to welcome a new addition to our family. it may not be father’s day to the whole world, but it is for me…a day of remembrance and gratefulness.

i can’t wait to shower my little sweet pea with the unconditional love that you provided me.

Posted on by shirindawna

forever.

my first father’s day without baba isn’t sad. it’s somehow uplifting. and full of possibility. and light. and hope.

it was an interesting week. i found myself in the emergency room, alone. and reached for my phone over and over again to call my dad. he was always my ‘go-to,’ my hero, my savior, my mentor…my dad, my baba. living without his physical presence has been an interesting ride. one that’s made me stronger. and somehow softer too.

my heart swelled today when someone i don’t know very well (but i’d like to 😉 ) called to check on me and make sure i was doing okay. it’s little things that show a person’s character. and i’m thankful for all the characters in my life.

i’m fortunate that for 31.5 years i had the best baba i could’ve ever dreamt up (that’s saying A LOT, i have quite the imagination). and while my heart aches when i think about him not being able to walk me down the aisle when i get married or my children not getting to meet the man who made me into the person i am today – i am utterly grateful for the time i got to spend with him. baba’s death is a blow that i am still recovering from almost a year later. while visiting my dad at his final resting place today, i shed some (read: many) tears…and it was cleansing. coming up on a year of living without him is surreal.

it’s funny how it takes absence to focus the lens of eternity on a life. i can tell you that with every passing day that hindsight becomes clearer; the guy offering me the delicious tomatoes from his greenhouse as he toiled in the backyard and the man that made me cry by gushing over how proud he was of me at the most inopportune moments will always hold the most precious of places in my heart.

throughout this heartbreaking year, there were times when i felt so alone…i took to journaling how i felt to be able to process my emotions and thoughts. while my pain and feelings flowed onto the page, i found my words directed from my journal to my father. i was basically giving him an update on what was happening. letters to my dad.

my heart felt better after that. in some unexplainable way, i felt his presence. i think those moments taught me that while he isn’t physically on earth to help me deal with life’s ups and downs, his spirit is still here, watching over me.

it is thought that when we lose someone to death, we lose that person forever. but i’ve opened my mind to keep cultivating the relationship, even after death, because the people we love and who hold our hearts will always be with us.

if my dad taught me anything, it was: love is everything. it is such a powerful emotion. love doesn’t die when someone does; and vice-versa, our love for them doesn’t end just because they aren’t there physically. death ends a life, not a relationship.

my brother and i also grow closer, while also teaching each other about strength, family bonds and healing…sometimes, my brother and i remark, “i wish daddy got to see this.” we talk about how our dad would have been so happy to be with us on certain days. but we also knew that he IS happy and he IS there on those days… it’s something i feel now more than ever. by recognizing he is still with us no matter what, we learn to honor him. we honor his memory by living the happy lives we know he would have wanted for us. by keeping him in mind (and always in heart), i feel like he is looking out for us everyday.

even though i can’t feel him squeeze me as i walk through his front door, i feel him in my heart. and the truth is, proximity doesn’t indicate closeness.

happy dad’s day, baba.
i know you’re with me forever.

Posted on by shirindawna

lesser of two evils?

my dad died last year after a three year battle with cancer.

he bounced back from two major surgeries only to watch it come back. and ultimately, take over his body.

he died on a wednesday morning in a big bed less than an hour after i said my final goodbye to him. my brother was at his side.

i hear people discuss which is preferred: to lose a loved one unexpectedly, in a suddenly your life is very different moment…not giving you a chance to say goodbye. or i’m sorry. or i’ll be seeing you…

or is it less painful to watch your loved one slowly fade from this life to the next, often in pain, sometimes great pain, breaking your heart over and over? yes, it’s painful…but it’s a chance to say goodbye.

i’ve had that debate myself and i never come to any conclusive decision…what’s easier? which hurts less? i finally came to the conclusion that i had a little bit of both. i knew my dad had cancer for 3 years…and for 3 years, we managed it. he lived with it. we changed his diet. we changed his lifestyle. we bickered. we took a cruise. we debated. we had dance parties. we learned together. most of all, we loved.

3 years of fighting…and a miraculous recovery from a terribly invasive surgery only to find that 6 months later the cancer was back and stronger than ever before. the doctors all said the cancer was going to take his life. they suggested hospice. we thought they were wrong.

didn’t they know how strong my dad was?
didn’t they know how long we’d been fighting this battle already?
didn’t they know about how he was a miracle and nothing could beat him?

his decline was rapid (something that is bittersweet). within a couple months of this news, he was gone.

i can’t pretend i didn’t feel the balance of the universe shift as i watched my brother help change my dad’s diaper. or from helping lift him out of bed in his final days.

i could see him fading, but after 3 years i was still holding on to a modicum of hope that he would miraculously recover. leading up to the moment he took his last breath. even though we knew it was coming, it felt like he’d been taken in an instant, a tragedy unforeseen, unpredicted. and certainly, i was unprepared.

lesser of two evils? i can’t speak on that because i don’t believe there’s a good way to lose someone you love.

i do believe the time together changed us for the better. it made us more aware of each moment we have with the people in our lives.

my dad always saw the possibilities in every challenge. he was (overly) optimistic and valued love over all else. i see these traits in myself.

in the end, when cancer stripped my baba of his health, these ideals were something it could not take, something so strong that they outlived even him.

Posted on by shirindawna

forget me not.

i was about 10 years old when my parents split up.

my dad moved into his own house a mere 6 minutes away from my mom’s. it was ideal…in a not commonly ideal situation. i didn’t really mind their split. it just gave me an extra bedroom and a place to escape from whichever parent i needed to get away from (read: my mom…never ever my dad).

it was 1991 and posters were way cool. so, my dad and i popped on over to the nearby wherehouse and bought the gem pictured above. as soon as we got home, i put it up on my door. i loved it. i loved the heart in the rose stem. i loved the wild make-up. (don’t judge me, it was the early 90’s)

eventually i grew out of the poster. my dad never took it down though, even after i switched to a different bedroom in his home. and for years afterward, i would hear him tell the story to other people that i picked out a poster with the words ‘forget me not’ on it…he interpreted it to mean that i feared he would forget me. which couldn’t be further from the truth. i never corrected his story. i loved his version. i loved his interpretation of my childhood whim.

he told the story up until he was no longer able to speak…he even told it to me sometimes “remember when you said ‘forget me not?'”

just like i loved his interpretation, i hope he loves mine.
of bringing him forget-me-nots.
it just seems appropriate.

Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

a year and a day.

i woke up (not so uncharacteristically) early this morning.

like every sunday morning, i thought about what i would be doing with my dad today.

i plopped down at my computer to write and found myself flooded with thoughts of him, but couldn’t find the right words to convey my feelings.

i started rummaging through old files and found this, dated 4/13/12:

i woke up this morning and planned to go to the gym, but instead i started to write…

and i wanted to write about the thing that i had been avoiding writing about: my dad’s cancer.

sunday was always our day. my brother, him, and me. it seemed appropriate that sunday would be the day i’d confront my dad’s mortality and put my thoughts to paper.

but i couldn’t do it.

and i became frustrated.

and so instead i cried.

i hate how easily the tears flow when the words won’t.

and while the overtones are sad, it didn’t make me blue.

sure it’s sunday, and sure it’s the day i miss baba most, but that’s ok.

i can’t change it, and that’s ok.

it wouldn’t change the fact that I still miss my dad almost a year later. or that i would still miss him a little bit every single day. it also wouldn’t change the fact that at every bit of laughter, every soccer game, every sunday, every fight with my mom, every accomplishment, every disappointment, and everything in between, i still close my eyes and wish that he were next to me. and, well, that’s ok.

on a recent trip with my girlfriends i cried to my best friend about how i missed my dad and she said ‘that’s ok.’ so simple. and so oddly liberating. i don’t think she knows how her two simple words impacted me…giving me permission to feel how i feel. even when it doesn’t feel appropriate.

so it’s sunday, i miss my dad. and i’ve learned that there is no right way or wrong way to grieve, there is only your way, and there is my way.