It’s been a few months since I’ve written. About 11, in point of fact. What’s the reason for this long, quiet absence? Well, it’s multi-factorial. Life in general has been busy. Heather in general has been feeling unmotivated. I’ve spent a lot of time numbing life and avoiding my feelings by watching the complete canon of Friends, Gilmore Girls, and Cranford, with a little Hart of Dixie thrown in.
To my defense, I DID do some constructive things as well. I completed my Organic Intelligence year-long coaching program, I traveled to some new places (Durango, CO and northern WI), I biked a metric century (66 miles!), I learned a lot about energy work, and most importantly I spent A LOT of time with family. And it was this, more than anything, that defined my 2025.
In November of 2025, my father passed away. He had been ill for a long time with COPD and heart disease, but this year felt different. His breathing was much worse; he constantly struggled to get enough oxygen. And his body just started breaking down – it was difficult for him to swallow; his back and shoulders hurt all the time. He moved less and less and got tired and disconnected much more quickly. Part of me believed that he would somehow just live forever and part of me realized that my time with him was short.
But when he actually passed away, I just felt total, absolute shock. It was just so so unbelievable that one day he was there, and the next day, he was just gone. How is that even fucking possible?? How can someone who is such a part of your life and who has ALWAYS been there, just NOT be there anymore?? There is just this huge whole in the fabric of our lives. I know that death is the ONE thing we will all experience, but it just felt/feels so WRONG.
The first few days after he passed were so surreal. This monumental, life-changing thing has happened, but you need to call doctors, cancel appointments, arrange services, notify people, make Facebook posts, etc. And then when all that’s done, you have to start processing bills, dig through filing cabinets, mail out death certificates. It’s such a bewildering mix of grief, project management, and regret.
I tried to visit Dad as much as I could over this past year, and I called him regularly on my morning walks, but if I had known the end was so close, I would have done so much more – tried to provide more comfort, more care, more love, more space for him to speak his mind. He knew I loved him SO much, but I would have made sure he had absolutely NO doubt about just how much I loved him, and how grateful I was that he was my dad.
It is such a hard time. And we were so fortunate in our family and friends. People I haven’t seen in 25+ years came to his Celebration of Life, which was held way out in the country in Monticello, and so many people sent cards and food and texts and continued to check in for weeks and months afterwards. So amazingly thoughtful.
We are little over 2 months out from Dad’s death. And yet I still get this reflexive impulse to call him when something interesting happens, or when I think of something that he would find funny. I hope I never lose that impulse. I miss his voice. I miss his presence. I miss his wacky text messages and oddball sense of humor. I miss him just always being there, reigning over the kitchen table, making sure that everything around him was happening JUST SO. He was sick for so many years, that we all were kinda satellites revolving around him, so it feels a bit like our central planet is gone. And now we start the journey of finding a new set point.
2025, in a nutshell, was me living in limbo land while I tried to figure out how to juggle all the pieces of life and death, connection and loss, action and rest. It was a year of sorrow & love, suffering & gratitude.
In 2026, I hope to engage with life a bit more fully – do more writing, create more art, do more traveling, connect more with the people I love. It’s clearer than ever to me, that this life does, in fact, have an end point, and I want to jump back into it.
Thanks for reading. And for all those out there who have lost a loved one, my heart goes out to you. I had no idea how much it hurt until I personally experienced it. Sending love.