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friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiday

i stumbled onto pinterest today (oh shush, you did too!)...and saw this poem. its so sweet and innocent and completely sums up what i used to think/say to my own pop and what i wish i could still say to him as i navigate  my still unclear 20s.

the decade we spend being twenty-somethings is a tough one. its so full of big questions and bigger confusions. its filled with constant change in the form of jobs, boyfriends and tastes and theres that nagging feeling were never going to figure it out.

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im told we do. i  have seen first hand (thank you dad, drew, mom and countless others) for showing me that life has a funny way of figuring itself out. apparently (im not there yet) we learn to relax and be comfortable enough in our own lives that the fear of being homeless, fear of failure and fear of never understanding anything goes away. look at my dad below...even with us youngsters to raise he looks so relaxed! and happy! what the hell dad, why cant i relax?!



the hard part for me now is wanting to talk to my dad about anything and everything and knowing i cant. i mean sure, i talk to him, but its obviously not the same as when he was alive. were about 2 weeks shy of it being 5 years since his passing and i have not yet gotten to a point where it makes sense. i think theres a part of me that will always be missing/empty. he was just so amazing and important enough that i intentionally leave that part bare because in essence who the fuck could fill it? is it weird that i feel like i could be so much better if my dad were alive? he was so good at building my confidence and making me believe in myself that it totally blows to not have my #1 cheerleader here to help calm my ever-loving crazy mind down.

guess thats why i feel so lucky to have such a great brother and mom (not to mention outside family and friends). you guys are fantastic and keep me going. and really, i mean after 24 years good ol' john kelley probably needed a break. nah, just kidding, crazily enough he loved it/me/my neuroses.

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