Ten Years Later, Life Is Full

Happy October 1st.

For the first time in ten years, I can say that without feeling the heaviness that usually comes with this day.

Today marks ten years since my dad passed away. And if you know me, you know October 1st has always been a hard day. Honestly, it was never just October 1st. It was September too, especially those last few days of the month, because those were some of the last days I spent with my dad.

Every year around this time, I would feel it.

But this year, something feels different.

I miss my dad. I will always miss him. There are still moments when I wish I could call him and tell him everything that has happened. But for the first time, I don’t feel overwhelmingly sad.

I feel at peace.

And maybe, after ten years, that’s what healing looks like for me.

Not forgetting. Not loving him any less. Not pretending the loss didn’t change me. But finally being able to look back with more gratitude than sadness.

I thought ten years would feel heavier. I thought I needed to do something big to mark it. Maybe run a 5K, volunteer at a veterans center, or find some special way to honor my dad.

Instead, I decided to write.

And strangely, this isn’t really a post about losing him.

It’s about everything that came after.

Because a lot of life can happen in ten years.

And when I look at mine now, the word that keeps coming to mind is full.

Life Has Been Life-ing

I know I’ve been neglecting my blog.

But life has been life-ing, and honestly, life has been good.

I originally planned for my next post to be about my corporate era and everything I’ve learned since stepping into a completely new industry.

That transition has been one of the biggest parts of my year. After spending my career in government and nonprofit work, I stepped into corporate America and financial services, and it has stretched me in ways I didn’t expect.

I’ve learned an entirely new industry. I’ve traveled. I’ve walked into new rooms. I’ve gotten opportunities to do work I’m genuinely proud of. I’ve met incredible people and had experiences that have reminded me why I took a chance on something different.

It hasn’t always been easy.

There are still moments when I look at something and think, What in the world am I reading?

But then I learn.

And I keep going.

This season has reminded me that you can be experienced and still be new. You can be confident and still have questions. You can be proud of how far you’ve come and still have so much more to learn.

And I think that’s where I am right now.

I’m 30. I’m growing in my career. I’m taking better care of myself. I’m being more intentional about the people and things that matter to me. I’m writing again. I’m dreaming about what’s next.

And I’m happy.

Not because everything is perfect or because I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

Life is just good.

Ten Years of Life

That’s what feels so surreal about today.

Ten years ago, I couldn’t have imagined the woman I would be today.

I couldn’t have told you where I would live, what my career would look like, who would still be in my life, what dreams I would have, what prayers would be answered, or how much I would change.

There are entire versions of me that my dad never got to meet.

That used to make me really sad.

Now, I look at it differently.

So much of the woman I am today was shaped by the people who loved me before I became her.

Including him.

If you knew my dad, you knew that he wanted his children to do well. He wanted us to work hard, find the things we loved, and build good lives for ourselves.

And I think that’s exactly how I honor him now.

By living.

By trying.

By loving people well.

By taking chances.

By getting back up.

By allowing myself to enjoy the life God has given me.

Learning to Carry Grief Differently

As I write this, I keep thinking about how much my relationship with grief has changed.

Grief comes and goes.

There isn’t a magical point where you stop missing someone. Sometimes a date, a memory, a song, or the smallest thing can bring everything back.

But I’ve learned that missing someone doesn’t mean you have to carry the same weight forever.

For me, a lot of that healing has been spiritual. I’ve prayed. I’ve grown. I’ve had to surrender things to God that I couldn’t fix or change myself.

For someone else, healing might look different. Maybe it’s counseling. Maybe it’s talking to someone you trust. Maybe it’s finally allowing yourself to feel what you’ve been avoiding.

However you get there, I hope you know that you are allowed to heal.

You are allowed to miss someone and still laugh.

You are allowed to love them and love the life you have now.

You are allowed to remember what was and still be excited about what is.

You are allowed to want a beautiful life after loss.

For a long time, I think grief felt like something I had to carry because carrying it meant I hadn’t forgotten.

But I’ve learned that love and heaviness are not the same thing.

I don’t have to hurt every October 1st to prove that I loved my dad.

I don’t have to be sad to remember him.

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving him behind.

Maybe we never completely stop carrying grief. Maybe we just learn how to carry it differently.

Life Is Full

Ten years later, I’m not spending today only thinking about what I lost.

I’m thinking about everything that has happened since.

I’m thinking about the life I’ve been blessed to live, the people I love, the work I’m proud of, the woman I’m becoming, and everything I still have ahead of me.

There are still things I want. There are still prayers I’m waiting on. There are still parts of myself I’m working on.

But my life is good.

My life is full.

And I know my dad would be proud.

I honor him every day through the life I live, the way I show up for the people I love, and the way I continue to move forward.

So if you’re reading this while carrying the weight of missing someone, I hope you give yourself permission to live.

Remember them. Say their name. Tell the stories. Pray. Talk to someone if you need to. Give yourself the time and space to heal.

But please don’t believe that choosing joy means you’ve forgotten them.

You deserve a good life too.

And maybe one day you’ll look around and realize that the grief is still part of your story, but it isn’t the whole story anymore.

Ten years later, I still miss my dad.

I still love my dad.

I will always carry him with me.

But today, I can finally say something I don’t think I’ve ever been able to say before.

Happy October 1st.

Life is full.

And I’m grateful I’m here to live it.