Losing your spark and finding it again

To say that the final quarter of 2024 has sucked lemons is... somewhat of an understatement, but also not? Parts of the end of this year have been great - connecting with my students, getting new ideas to write about, having time with my family, reading for fun again thanks to audio books. It hasn't been all bad.

But the bad has been just that. B.A.D. And that's not counting the hurricane that wrecked us at the end of September. I'm planning on writing some thing in more detail about it all, but the long and short is - my dad died.

But he didn't just die, if that makes sense. See, post hurricane, his back was really hurting him, so in October he was referred to a spinal surgeon. Said doctor ordered not one but two MRIs, said that something didn't 'look right' on the first one, so ordered the second. I went with my parents to the appointment to review the second MRI. By that point my dad was having trouble moving around and nothing was comfortable for him. He wasn't sleeping, so mom wasn't sleeping.

The spinal doctor came in to the appointment - an appointment my mom had to HOUND his office to give - and told my dad that his MRI was "indicative of metastatic cancer. There's nothing I can do for you from a spinal surgical standpoint," before sending us to the hospital closest to our home for a CT to confirm.

My dad had a mass in his lung, a liver 'chalk full' of tumors to the point they couldn't possibly count them, and evidence of cancer in his spine and the bone marrow there. Y'all, he had had a stoved up back - he never even complained about his breathing! (The lung mass had collapsed the lower portion of his right lung; he breathed FINE literally till the day he died.) The oncologist that met with our family was great - went bit by bit on information, explained things, and sat with us as we asked questions and attempted to process. The ultimate take away was that nothing could be done; dad was in acute liver failure. He would be lucky to be with us by Thanksgiving, definitely gone by Christmas.

Dad wanted to come home, so that's what we did. The hospice coordinator was great, very thorough, and addressed all of our questions. She even coordinated to have physical therapy come in to train us (my mom, sister, husband, brother-in-law, and I) on the safest ways to help dad get out of the bed. (This man got out of the bed to go to the bathroom till the day he died - I'm not kidding. My dad was a BAMF.)

We got him home and started a bizarre week with him on hospice care. We were far from impressed with the hospice nurse (straight up came in for dad's second check in which was his last with her and told us "Oh, I haven't even read my notes on him." Like WTF?!?), and hospice as a whole. The situation with my dad has made my mom decide that if she ends up terminal at any point, she wants my sister and I to keep her in the hospital. Hospice care for your loved one is hard; the extra hand tying with meds and the lack of care by most of the system did not help.

My mom felt very strongly that my dad would die on Tuesday, because his diagnosis had been the Tuesday before. My dad died at 12:11 a.m. on Wednesday morning. I think he wanted to kind of prove mom wrong, go out on his own terms (I mean, I know he would have preferred to not go at all, but as he would say, it is what it is.) My mom, sister, and I were with him till the end. He was 66 years old.

The day after was Thanksgiving, so needless to say, adding that to the list of holidays I freaking hate now (the other is Valentine's Day, the day one of my best friends was diagnosed with breast cancer... that's a story for another day). Then that weekend was filled with getting his service coordinated and done. I wrote his obituary, which the funeral home published. I'll include a link and screen shots. My dad was buried before I had to return to work that Monday.

The month since then has felt so weird. Moments where the fact that my dad is gone was all I could think about and others where I could almost forget until a reminder slapped me in the face. When I went back to work, some of my students knew, but many asked me where I had been. And I told them; I'm not going to act like I'm okay when I'm not, and if I want my kiddos to be open and honest with me, then I have to match that energy. Thankfully, I teach some awesome little humans and have very supportive families surrounding me while I work with their kids to make music.

Before dad passed, I promised him I would handle mom's Christmas. His response was to demand his bill fold and give me all the money he had squirreled away since he stopped smoking in August (a huge deal for someone who has smoked a solid 50 years at least). So what little time I didn't have at work and holiday prepping was spent doing all I could to make sure my mom had the best Christmas possible given the fact that her life partner was no longer in the physical. They had been together 43 years.

Needless to say, I've had no creative energy or spark. My characters have been respectfully silent as I've worked my way through this weird new world. But they're slowly waking up.

I'm heading into 2025 with plans to release two books, a writing plan to complete a third's first draft by end of February, and hopefully work on a novella and sequel to one of the two upcoming releases. It didn't feel like I would have this part of me back, but here it is, ready to go. It feels both cathartic and almost like a betrayal. Shouldn't I sit in this grief the rest of my life? It feels unfair to doing things I enjoy with my dad gone; he had so much he wanted to do that he won't get to enjoy now.

My dad wasn't much of a reader, and he certainly wouldn't have read my genre of books. But he told me to 'don't lose that' when it came to my love of writing and story telling. And in his final days, he repeated 'don't let life get in the way of living.'

And that's what I'm doing - I'm fighting my way towards living the life I want, despite life trying its best to get in the way. And to do that, I'm going to keep writing.

This post is to remind you that even when you feel like you're losing your spark, it can come back, even when you feel like it never will. And do like my dad said "Don't lose that."

"Don't let life get in the way of living."

Love you dad 🤍

https://www.harrisnadeaumortuary.com/obituaries/bobby-thrift