The Last of the Firsts

 January 31 is coming.

While the year of pain and suffering that was 2020 ended December 31, my personal year of pain will end on January 31. It will be the end of the Firsts.

My dad passed away late in the night on January 31, 2020. Every day since then has been a first.

The first Valentine's Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas.

The first June 27 (their anniversary), July 7 (his birthday), September 27 (my birthday), November 3 (Mom's birthday). 

The first morning waking up with him gone. The first time cleaning my Airbnb and knowing that he wasn't "checking up on me" using Find My Friends. The first time opening the cabin. The first time closing the cabin.

SO MANY FIRSTS!

Some we could have avoided, but chose to walk through them, while some came at us without permission or any way to avoid them. Each one has brought tears and memories...and smiles and laughter at the many, many memories.

It has been a painful year. 

There are a couple more firsts coming up in the next few weeks. I am planning to go back to United Noodle.  This is one of those firsts I can avoid if I wish but feel like I have to face. The last time I was there was the end of January, 2020. I was meeting several of my kids there for lunch. When I was in the parking lot, my sister called and told me that Dad was going to be moved to the hospice. I knew it wasn't going to be long at that point. We ate lunch and then I went to my parent's house.  I really don't want to go back to United Noodle. I don't want to cry in the grocery aisle, but I will because I feel like I need to. I will because I don't believe in avoiding hard things. I will because you can't skirt around grief; you have to go through it.

The last first will be January 31 itself. Most of us are going to go to Alabama and spend a week at the beach, where SO MANY happy memories with Dad reside. It will be HARD, but it will be good...and we'll be together.

Amidst the pain of this past year, I am so, so very thankful that I had 54 years with my Dad! He was not perfect (but close), and he loved us so much. He cared about us and for us with every bit of himself. 

 
"A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved"

Friday Fotos

 Today, we’ll look back in a few choice videos from the week. Still called Friday Fotos because Friday Videos doesn’t sound as cool. 





Friday Fotos

 It was a good week.