First Anniversary

My dad passed away from cancer this month last year. December 21, 2023. He lived for only six months after being told his cancer had metastasized and reached stage four. He was told he had up to five years left to live. I knew it wouldn’t be more than a year after looking up the statistics.

I moved back home but in those six months, I was grieving his loss so much already while watching him fade into a sack of skin and bones; a husk of the man I knew as my dad. He scared me in a way. He wasn’t dad. He was a sad, weak lump. The image of him unable to reach out to me on his deathbed still haunts me every day.

I feel like I never properly showed him how much I love and care about him during the time he needed it more than ever. He was an amazing dad. So loving and supportive. He accepted everyone as his own and everybody adored him. He was smart and funny and just everything good you could ever wish for in a person.

I’m only 25. He’ll never get to meet the person I marry or attend the wedding or meet his grandbabies or watch me reach milestones in the things I’m passionate about. I’ll never get to tell him of all the exciting things I’m doing. I’ll never even get to share another meal with him.

Last year was technically my first Christmas without him, but with everything going on we didn’t celebrate anyways. I’ve never been a holiday person but it still has significance. This feels more like my first Christmas without him. How am I suppose to enjoy the holidays when all I can feel is the pain we all experienced losing such an incredible man to such a horrible disease at a time where families come together