It has been four weeks since my dad unexpectedly passed away in his home in Southwest Florida, just one day after my mother’s 72nd birthday. As I write this, it still doesn’t feel real. It feels like I’m living someone else’s life and toggling between reality and a dream.

My parents had been living in Southwest Florida for the past few years, and my dad was out riding his bike on the morning he passed away.

He came back inside and sat on the couch, and that’s when his heart attack happened. My mom heard him struggling to breathe and called 911. Unfortunately, my dad didn’t make it, despite the best efforts of my husband’s co-workers who responded to the call.

On the day of my dad’s passing, I was 30 weeks pregnant and attending a work meeting on Zoom. My husband, who is an EMT and firefighter, came home and tried to get into the house.

When I went to open the door, I saw that his eyes were filled with tears, and he told me that my dad had passed away from a heart attack. I was shocked and panicked, unable to comprehend how this could have happened. I spent the first few days crying, sleeping, and feeling overwhelmed.

In the days that followed, I had to help my mom with the funeral arrangements and attend a Zoom memorial service for my dad. We had already planned a baby shower for the following Sunday, and we decided to go through with it as it was what my dad would have wanted. It was bittersweet and made it hard to be excited about the upcoming arrival of my baby.

I find myself struggling to come to terms with the loss of my dad. I feel devastated, overwhelmed, and sad. I am anxious about the well-being of my unborn child and feel like nothing is safe anymore. I have books on breastfeeding and childcare, but instead, I’m reading books about grief and losing a parent. I have a nursery to set up and baby gear to learn how to use, but I’m struggling to do even the basics of life.

Despite all this, I’m grateful for the abundance of support I’ve received from family and friends who understand how difficult this time is for me. I don’t know how I’ll make it through this grief or how I’ll manage my emotions when my son arrives, but for now, I’m doing the best I can and letting it all be.

[ad_2]