I feel like I should write a new post so that last one just doesn't sit at the top. I don't even know how to begin to talk about the last month and a half, what a bewildering time. First there was turning 30 and getting on a plane to South America the same day. I started out the trip pretty sick, okay to be honest it was a urinary tract infection. But lets be honest about the hell of being on a place for 13 hours with that. The trip was nice but it was work and it made me long to be a tourist. I was exhausted once I got back. I worked to try and catch up for the week after that then took a week vacation. I am so upset with myself for not going to visit my parents one my vacation time. How selfish and what a loss that I didn't see my dad during the last few weeks of his life. Instead I went to visit my brother and despite the rain we went to the zoo and then because of it I ended up getting very ill. I was sick in bed for days. I finally went to the doctor and he gave me an inhaler to use for a week. I was just starting to feel better when I get a message from my mom that my dad is in the hospital and was in very bad shape. When I talked to her I found out that he had a cardiac arrest and was revived but had not gained back consciousness. I did not know then and didn't find out till later that it took them 20 minutes to revive him. I went to visit him the next day and I will not go into detail but it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do to see him in the state he was. He never regained brain activity after the cardiac arrest. I guess he has come back so many times after cheating death my whole life that you get use to it in a way I still held out hope. For me, as I know for many others, your dad is the symbol of strength in your life from the time you are born. To see that strength crumble before your eyes is terrifying and heart breaking. That Monday night I called my mom in the evening and she had just come back from the hospital after giving the permission to pull the plug. I didn't know if it had happened yet or not and didn't find out for sure till the next day. I don't really remember driving home that night. I spent last Thursday-Sunday back home in the home I grew up in with my father. We buried him on Friday. It was a gorgeous sunny day in Santa Barbara. It has been very complex and difficult since. I find myself sometimes letting go and forgetting then remembering and being brought right back into the the sadness and then feeling guilty and selfish for letting go of it. Then at other times I feel a manic need to make every minute count and feeling how fast time goes by which feels amplified by the fact that I just turned 30 and weight of feeling older. I feel so mentally exhausted all the time. I could go on and on but I think it's time for bed. Hopefully my next post won't be so heavy.

*edit to add, I just noticed this is my 1000th post, here's hoping the 2000th will be a nicer one