"There were two things that I wanted to see, Jen." My dad said to me minutes before I walked down the aisle. Tears streaming down both of our faces, he told me, "one, getting to see you graduate from college and two, seeing you get married". Looking back on my wedding day it makes sense to me why my dad seemed so upset that day; it wasn't that I was no longer "his little girl"... which I always will be, but it was the fact that he now had to accept his current state of health and be ok with whatever happened next.

A couple years after I got married my dad’s health started deteriorating pretty quick. It was the summer of 2013. At this point my dad had spent more nights in the hospital than at home for a solid 9 months. My dad being in a hospital was nothing new, you see, some of my earliest memories were visiting him in the hospital, but never for this long. When I was a kid, my dad was diagnosed with Heart Disease he managed the illness for a few years and then he was diagnosed with Kidney failure, which meant he would be on Dialysis. Soon after that he was diagnosed with Diabetes, and just a couple years before he passed he was diagnosed with Scleroderma. You can probably see why his body decided enough was enough and looking back, I see that he began planning and taking control of his final months, weeks and days on Earth.

A month before my dad passed away my husband and I were about to embark on our very first out of state moving adventure together.  I had accepted a job offer up north and was set to start mid August. My husband and I grew up moving around due to our dad’s jobs, so this being our first out of state move together was incredibly exciting. The week before we moved, we planned to visit my in-laws. At this point, they had lived out of the country for 4 years and it was important for us to take advantage of the one time that year they would be in the states. It was going to be perfect, getting in some family time before the big move. Or so I thought.

A couple days before we left to visit my in-laws, my dad was moved to an “extended stay” hospital. I knew this was bad, just didn’t know how bad. The day before we left I visited him. Although it was hard for him to speak, he insisted I be careful during the move and wanted to hear (again) how we planned to move and what the timeline looked like. He wanted me to know how proud he was of me and how much he loved me.  I left the hospital knowing this very well could be the last time I saw my dad.

3 days into our visit with my husband’s parents, we went to grab a quick bite in-between running errands. Our order hit the table and mid bite, my mom calls me. My dad had decided to stop Dialysis treatment and leave the hospital to rest peacefully in the comfort of his own home with my mom by his side. I knew without Dialysis it would not be long before his body would completely shut down.  I don’t remember much of that day after the phone call.  Earlier I mentioned my dad took control of his last moments on Earth, and his final one would not be an exception. He waited until my brother and I were both away to have my mom take him home.

The next morning I spent many hours laying in a hammock out back sipping coffee trying to remember as many memories of my dad as possible. My husband finally said, “let’s go into town.” We spent the day thrift shopping and eating BBQ. Not long after we made it home, my mom had called to let me know it wouldn’t be much longer; my dad had began to have labored breathing. 2 hours later she called me to tell me he had passed away. My heart broke that night.

We could have easily rushed home, but it was clear what my dad wanted. He wanted to have his wife by his side and his kids to remember him in a better state of mind. We honored that and waited until my dad had passed to make arrangements to go home.

4 days after being home with my mom, my husband and I crammed our belongings into a 17’ moving truck, made our way north and started a new chapter in our lives.  Unlike the previous chapters, this one had an incredible amount of darkness in it. Much of the following 8 months were a blur. It often makes me sad to think that the people I met during that time didn’t get to meet the real me, but I am also extremely grateful because they were incredibly patient and understanding with me. Clearly put into my life at that time for a reason.

Losing my dad at the age of 26 made me realize time and the people you choose to surround yourself with are the most important things in this life. My most special memory of my dad is that whenever I wanted something or wanted to do something, I would ask my dad and end it with “…one day, dad?” and he would follow up with the nod of his head and a “One day, Jen.” and I would be completely content with that and life went on.

2 years and 3 states later life goes on, and I still wonder who I am.  It has been a challenge to rebuild myself to the strong, independent, positive, fun loving human being I was before my dad passed. I may never get there, but most importantly I use the strength and bravery my dad instilled in me to always fight through and come out on top. I am empowered by his spirit everyday to be strong, be happy, and be present.

I want to get the most out of this life, and although I am grateful for where I am and what I am doing I want more. Mostly, I want to be more creative more often. Starting this blog with my dearest girlfriend has ignited something in me that I never knew existed. I am beginning to realize we, as humans, have a much larger reach than we think.

With that said, I hope my story along with the rest of the stories you read here empower you to keep fighting the good fight and to have hope. Hope that there is life after loss and hope that you can make a difference.

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Sending love, luck & calm vibes.