7 years.

Seven years ago I laid in the backseat of my white Jetta while my cousin drove my car home and my aunt was in the front passenger seat. They had driven down to San Diego in the middle of the night to tell me and bring me home. I kept my head low so that the cars crawling alongside in LA morning commute traffic could not see me crying. I didn't want anyone to see my red and tear smeared face. My whole life had just changed  and I didn't want anyone to see the new me.

Just a few hours before I had been at the library late into the night studying for finals with friends. I hadn't slept much and when I heard the pounding on my apartment door at 2 am it startled and scared me in my sleepy stupor. We lived in an upstairs apartment but the entrance was downstairs. I remember carefully crawling into the kitchen sink so I could peek and see who so vehemently was trying to get into our place. It took me a few seconds to figure it out but then I understood it was my aunt, uncle and cousin. I walked down the stairs and opened the door and said "What are you doing here?" And then I fell backwards because I immediately knew. I had seen with my own eyes the week before that this was going to happen. I scrambled back up the stairs and ran into my room, flinging myself on the floor. Hoping and praying that this wasn't really happening. It is a crazy sensation to experience so much pain and know that your world has ended as you know it and someone you love is gone forever. You wish and hope that it isn't the truth and then your heart breaks even further when you admit to yourself it is.

Seven years later and I can remember virtually every second and minute of the first 24 hours after my dad took his life. It is really odd but I have photographic memories of where I was when he died, several hours before I would even be told. I was at the gym, on the end elliptical, staring at a television and I can almost smell the sweat and moisture all over again. This is particularly of interest because I can't even remember most of what I did yesterday. How can I so vividly recall what I was doing in the moment he passed, when I had no idea it was happening?

I don't think I have truly healed from my dad's passing. I think I have scarred. The wounds that were so violently ripped open were not closed up with new and renewed skin but instead with mounds of scar tissue so thick not much can penetrate it. In many ways, it caused me to lose a lot of my ability to feel. I felt empty and burdened and allowed myself to act however I thought I needed. I was irresponsible and selfish. I desperately turned to negative things that would temporarily fill my emptiness. I felt untouchable and careless. I did things of which I am not proud. And in the same months, I did things of which I am extremely proud. I managed to finish my last two quarters of college. I challenged myself to run my first half marathon, the whole time doing so thinking of my Dad and how I was running this for him when he couldn't. Even in my desperation, I knew that life would never be the same but that life would indeed go on and I needed to participate in it. I just might be participating a little less enthusiastically than before.

Seven years later and I still have a lot of the same scar tissue but with everyday that passes I can feel Dave and Rivers slowly removing it from me. From their love, I am beginning to feel vulnerable again. I can literally feel my skin softening everyday as I realize what a beautiful life I have and how full and rich it is. I can feel more than I have in years. I can worry and stress more than I thought I'd ever be able to. I can feel sadness on levels lighter than the devastation of loosing my dad. I can feel excitement and anticipation that I thought were permanently gone. I can miss him without feeling anger or confusion. I can wish he was here without feeling desperate that he absolutely MUST be here. I can love him still. I'm not exactly feeling free but in many ways I am feeling new again.