Eleven Months — The Last First

 

Easter Sunday was the last of the firsts.
The last holiday without my father for the first time.

And somehow, I made it here.

Through the days that felt too heavy to move,
through the moments that caught me off guard,
through the quiet spaces where your absence echoed loudest.

Today, I felt something new,
not joy without you,
but strength with your memory.

A little more energy.
A little more breath.
A little more ability to sit in the moment
without being overtaken by it.

I still miss you.
That hasn’t changed.

But Sunday reminded me
that even in grief,
life is still gently unfolding.

And maybe…
that’s part of how I carry you forward.