I have written so much, I don’t even know where to start. I’m going to try to capture the essence of this journey through short stories and poems I was inspired and compelled to write over the last couple of years. Forgive me if some are out of order and some may have not have pictures. I’m trying to navigate this new tool–blogging and stretch beyond my comfort zone, to share of myself, even if it’s not yet perfect…..here it goes.

My days were filled with hospitals, protocols, medicines, nurses, social workers, and doctors. I was up, I was down. I was optimistic, I was expecting the worst. Life was a constant contradiction. When my dad opted to start hospice care at home I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t know how to help someone die,” I was scared out of my mind. Then, I realized it wasn’t about helping someone die, it was about helping someone live. Suddenly the question I had to ask myself was “how do I help someone live?” I couldn’t even answer that for myself. I started thinking about all the things that were important to me. I searched for a way to compartmentalize life and make sense of it all. I wanted to put things in list and then check the box.
The things I thought were so important, all of a sudden, didn’t seem so important with this new life lens and they didn’t make the list. I watched my dad, literally, create his list and check off his boxes. It was scary how alike we were. He was living each day to the fullest. Every day, every hour, every minute, there was something new to see, something new to smell, something to new experience. Suddenly, we hugged a little longer; we laughed a little louder and ate a little more. Boy did we eat. We ate and ate. Savoring everything life had to offer.