a previous lifetime or two
This week marks the year anniversary of my dad’s passing. It also brings 2023 to a close. These past twelve months have been full of so much grief, joy, love, laughter, sorrow, nostalgia, pain, warmth, heartache, and a few new beginnings. I’m not the same person I was before my dad left this earth, or to be even more honest, I’m not the same person I was before his decade battling Alzheimer’s. This is something I’ve been reflecting on a lot. One of my most played songs of 2023 was “She Used to Be Mine” by Sara Bareilles from the musical “Waitress.”
“I still remember that girl.”
It’s an odd feeling to get to know who you are when a piece of you is gone. I’ve been clinging to old memories, hoping one of them would remind who I used to be or take me back to a moment before it all changed. Scanning old photos, listening to mixed CDs my dad made me, staring out at the ocean, looking up at the moon, I find myself thinking of my dad and sharing conversations with him. He reminds me that life is full of changes and our shared phoenix tattoos remind me that we are constantly reborn.
A few months ago, I found a box in my mom’s garage with a post-it note reading “old photos of a previous lifetime or two” in my dad’s handwriting. Within the box was a stack of photos he took from his time serving in Vietnam, his bronze star medal for meritorious achievement, letters, cards, sketches, and a printed copy of an email I wrote my parents in 2011. It was incredible to see what my dad kept and treasured over the years. It was beautiful to be reminded how many lifetimes he lived in his time spent on this planet, no matter the circumstances, always leading with an open heart and open mind.
My dad was a peaceful warrior, full of childlike wonder- which is something I have been trying to reconnect to within myself- nurturing my inner child. Whether that be through writing, photography, walking, or cuddling with my dog, I would like to bring some childlike wonder into 2024. That, along with patience, grace, understanding, excitement, creativity, and care. Honoring those who have lived many lives before me, and celebrating all the various versions of myself that get to be a part of this life I’m living.
“'Til it finally reminds her
To fight just a little
To bring back the fire in her eyes
That's been gone but used to be mine”