28

Friday marked my 28th birthday. Although 28 isn't a traditionally momentous birthday, I thought I'd take some time to reflect on where I've been, where I'm at, and where I'm going.

I blog a lot about my father and from anyone who knows me, that's no surprise, because I talk about him a lot too. Last year, my father passed less than a month before my 27th birthday. I was so consumed in the planning and arranging that his passing entailed, I'm not sure it really felt like he was gone when my birthday came around. I think I was still in shock, I still felt like he was on some lengthy business trip and would be calling to wish me a Happy Birthday any minute.

So when my birthday rolled around this past Friday, it was a very emotionally-fueled day for me. It felt like the first birthday my Dad had missed and his absence felt like the weight of a ton of bricks. Everything set me off, I spent a good chunk of my day in tears. It almost felt like I was watching myself from the outside, wondering, why on Earth I was so upset. I was an emotional runaway train and not much could stop it. After talking with my mom later in the day, I realized what my problem was - I missed my Dad and everything he did to make me feel special. I missed all the "little things." I'm not sure I will ever not miss the little things . . . but I hope to one day smile because they happened, instead of crying because they're gone. Until then, as they say, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to!

Someone, probably my brother, reminded me that only 20 percent of my twenties now remain. That's kind of scary. Look, I'll be the first person to admit, 28 is not old, but it's not young either. With 30 just two years away, I think my goal this year is to take stock of what I've accomplished and what I have left to do, so I don't end up missing out on what I'm really after.

If you asked me ten years ago, where I thought I'd be today, I'm not entirely sure I would have had a great answer. A few things I am sure of though . . . I definitely thought I'd be married with a child by 30. I walked into college expecting I'd meet my future husband and then get married shortly after graduation. Clearly that was not in the cards for me. Some days I'm totally okay with that - I know I'm definitely not ready to have children - and I know being single has afforded me some great opportunities. I often think, if I had been married young, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to spend so much time with my parents as an adult. I spent a lot of weekends with my parents, vacationed with them, volunteered with them. I had the unique opportunity to spend such quality time with my Dad before he passed, that had I been married with my own family, I'm not sure I would have been so lucky.

As "okay" as I am with being single, at the same time, it's a lonely proposition. As more and more of my friends end up in relationships, engaged, and married, sometimes I do wonder, "What is wrong with me?" It's also become a bit of a chore to continually answer the lengthy questioning of family and friends, "Are you seeing anyone?" "Why not?" "Have you tried online dating?" No, if I knew I wouldn't be single, and not interested. And yes, I know the line, "A watched pot never boils." I know I can't worry about it, but sometimes it's not that easy. I suppose what I really need to do first, is to learn to love myself, so I can be more open to others . . .which leads me to this next revelation . . .

Body image has been a real issue for me over the years. If people could hear how I talk to myself about how I look, they'd probably be appalled. I think as a kid, I always assumed I'd get to a point where I was happy and comfortable with my body, but sadly, at 28, I'm still struggling. It amazes me how much a number on the scale can throw off my entire day, how compulsive I am about weighing myself, and how much I beat myself up about what, when, or how much I eat. I see a totally different person staring back at me in the mirror - she's fat, ugly, has huge arms, massive shoulders, it's really terrible. No matter how much I work out, no matter how far I can run, how much I can lift, or how athletic I might be, I still see a fat girl in the mirror. This could be an entire blog post in itself and it probably will be at some point, but suffice it to say, that my goal as I round out my twenties is to reach a place of acceptability when it comes to my body. I want to appreciate my body for all it can do instead of continually pointing out the negatives. I want to feel comfortable in who I am, regardless of what I weigh or don't weigh.

But, instead of lamenting on all the things I haven't accomplished yet...what are some things I have?

Well, I've been blessed to finally have an incredibly supportive and caring group of friends. I may not be the most popular person in the world, but I do have people I trust and can count on. People who love me regardless of what mood I might be in or how stressed out I can be. People who accept my flaws and encourage me on a regular basis. My dad always said, "You can count your real friends on one hand, " and as I've gotten older, I've come to realize how true that really is.

I have had the opportunity at 28 to travel the world. I've had the chance to see some amazing places, frame some beautiful photos, and share my travels with friends and family. I've seen more of the world in 28 years, than some people see their entire lives. For that I am truly blessed and grateful.

I've done well in school, completed my master's and been pretty successful in my career. I've had amazing career opportunities and there's more to come. I'm not sure what company I would have said I'd be working for if you asked me ten years ago, but I am very glad to be working for the one I do. I'm also really glad I figured out pretty quickly that living the life of Carrie Bradshaw was not for me. I've always done what has felt right and its paid off every time. I'm thankful for that. I've never shied away from an opportunity (which isn't to say I haven't needed a little push here and there) and have always been willing to try something new. It's made me a bit of a wanderer (which I also get from my father), but it's also made for a really exciting and interesting life.

I have a wonderful family - not many people can say their parents are their best friends, but I am blessed to say just that. I have hobbies and interests that keep me motivated (whether that's crossfit or running races or movies or the beach). I find time to give back and volunteer, which has helped immensely this past year.

So, at 28, things aren't perfect. They are far from it. I have bills, fights with family or friends, a sick puppy from time to time, so much stress I feel like my head might explode, and days where I am so overcome with grief about my Dad, all I can do is cry. But, I'm here. I'm still putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make a difference in this life.

I'm still a work in progress, but at the end of the day, life is good and I'm going to spend the next two years, trying to make it even better, before I hit the next birthday milestone. Thanks for joining me on the ride.

Carry On

As March 14th creeps closer and closer, I thought I would reflect on the past year and what it's been like going through this life without my father.

It feels like this past year went by in the blink of an eye - faster than it normally feels. And without question, my father's absence was felt at every turn. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to pick up the phone and and call him. It was second nature sometimes. In fact, although his cell phone has been shut off, I still have "Dad Cell" listed in my favorites and I just can't bring myself to delete his number. I've kept about a dozen voicemails from him on my phone, which he left me over the year before he passed. I still find tears welling in my eyes when I listen to them, although I think I've come to appreciate them a little differently now and sometimes find myself smiling.

I often think about how he would react to certain news or circumstances, what he would say, or how he might go about something. When I was chosen to participate in an elite leadership development program at work, all I wanted to do was call my dad and tell him the news. I could hear his response, I knew exactly what he would say. And he'd have this indelible way of letting you know how proud he was of you. He'd tell all his friends what an accomplishment it was and before I could tell anyone myself, our entire extended network of family and friends would already know. Every child should have the opportunity to feel that loved and to know someone is that proud of you. My dad did that for me, every day of my life.

Father's Day was difficult this year. I felt so out of place as I read all the various well wishes my friends posted for their own fathers. I avoided the Father section in Hallmark like the plague. In fact, I had to purchase a birthday card around Father's Day and I had to leave the store, because it was too much for me to watch others search for cards.

Church is also difficult for me, even now. For some reason, when I do make it to church, I can't seem to get through the service without tears. I know it's connected to my father, I just don't know why. I think the constant messages of hope, love, and Heaven, just make me miss him that much more.

While the nights where I cried myself to sleep are fewer and far between these days, the pain is still so real. I often find myself listening to a certain song on the radio or watching a particular scene in a movie and feeling the tears rush down my face. I still wince when I hear talk of fathers and weddings - I'm not sure that particular pain will ever go away.

It's funny, through this process, I have learned so much about myself, about grief, about other people. There are mountains of books available for people who have lost someone to dissect their grief, to learn how to process grief, and to eventually "move on." In many ways I'm almost compelled to write a book for other people to learn how to care for someone who is grieving, because I have to tell you, that is one skill a majority of people lack.

I think grief and loss is generally awkward for those who have never really experienced it. Society as a whole seems to think you should be "back to normal" in a matter of weeks, but I  question whether "going back to normal," is really ever possible - especially for someone like me who was so completely connected with the person who is lost. While I have met some incredibly compassionate and loving people through this process, at the same time, I've been completely baffled by others. I've heard things like, "I know exactly how you feel, but instead of listening to you, let me just tell you how I feel instead," (a piece of advice, you never really know how someone feels, ever.) to, "You just have to get over it," to nothing at all. The most deafening noise you can ever hear when you're grieving, is that of silence from people you thought cared . . . but that is a post for another time.

Although there are certainly tough days, I do think I'm handling things better than I expected I would. Relocating to be closer to family and friends has been a tremendous blessing - just not being alone is so comforting.

I've also done my best to keep my father's memory alive at every turn. I try to recognize every major event he might have missed, like his birthday or Father's Day. And the scholarship has been a real dedication - we'll host our first fundraiser event on April 5 - an Easter Fest for children in my parents' town, an event I know my Dad would have loved.

As March 14th approaches, I keep asking myself how I want to mark the day. I can't let it go without addressing it somehow - it's a day that will forever mean so much to me and to do nothing would seem so callous. While I plan to visit my father's grave and buy a lottery ticket (since he was adamant, that you can't win if you don't play!), I've also decided, perhaps the best way to acknowledge the day is to go about some random acts of kindness, in honor of my father, who was always so passionate about helping others.

If you're reading this and have the time, perhaps you might want to take part in some random acts of kindness on March 14th - whether it's buying coffee for the person behind you in line, baking cookies for a neighbor, or sending a card to a friend to let them know you care. Whatever it is, I encourage you, in the spirit of love and hope, to honor my father by doing something special for someone else, regardless of how big or small it may be . . . for some reason, I think that would mean so much to my Dad. To know because of him, others are doing good. His personal motto after all was, "Remember, each one of us can make a difference every day."

As the first year without my dad comes to a close, I won't lie. I miss him more now, than I ever have. And I sincerely do not believe it ever gets easier, dealing with the loss. But I do find myself smiling more and laughing more when I think about
memories we made together.

It's a tough world for a Daddy's girl without her Dad . . . but I'm confident he's still with me - I see the signs. And I know I will see him again. Until then, all I can do is continue to walk in his footsteps and make him as proud as possible, just from a different vantage point.

Make a difference people.

Happy Birthday Daddy

Today, January 10, would have been my father's 77th birthday.

While we can no longer celebrate with him here on Earth, our family thought what better way to celebrate his memory by letting you all know that together with the Bear Creek/Buck Township Lion's Club, we have established the Theodore D. Carl Memorial Scholarship. 

The scholarship, which will award one high school senior each year, is our way of continuing to keep our father's memory alive while promoting the values in which he so strongly believed in, education being paramount.

We will spend the majority of 2014 raising funds to support this scholarship. Our goal is to give a substantial financial award each year . . . and of course, this is where you all come in.

On February 16, 2014, my brother Ted and I will run in the Lost Dutchman Half Marathon and 8K race in memory of our father, in an effort to begin raising funds for the scholarship. Dad had planned to watch me run the half marathon this year, had he been able to.

If you had the honor of knowing our father, you know he believed deeply in being honest, giving back to others, and always striving to make a difference. Even if you didn't know him, I am sure you can appreciate these tremendous values. Where others might talk the talk and say they believe in these principles, our father walked the walk every single day of his life and we hope to honor him, by helping students pay for their college educations.

We would be so appreciative if you could support my brother and me in our efforts to begin raising funds for the scholarship.

At this time, you can do so through the following ways:

1. You can write a check to the "Bear Creek/Buck Township Lions Club" and hand that check to my brother or me, or mail the check directly to the club at:

Theodore D. Carl Memorial Scholarship Fund
C/O Bear Creek/Buck Township Lions Club
P.O. Box 107
Bear Creek, PA 18602
*This form of donation is tax deductible. Please be sure to write "T. Carl Scholarship Fund" in the memo line.

2. You can send a payment directly to me via paypal. My paypal ID is: amcarl@udel.edu

3. If you're super fancy and use venmo, you can venmo the donation directly to me as well by adding me as your friend on venmo and making a payment. Please be sure to write, "T.Carl Scholarship Fund" in the message section.

On behalf of our entire family, we thank you for helping to support this scholarship fund and in turn, keeping our father's memory alive. Men like him only come around once in a lifetime and we were so blessed to have had the honor of having him in our lives.

Please stay tuned for more news and updates on the scholarship, including an Easter-focused fundraising event in April and a poker tournament this Summer. And of course, please feel free to share the news with your social networks - every penny counts.

Remember, each one of us can make a difference, every day.

Sincerely,

The Carl Family