BY SAMANTHA COSTA My father died 12 years ago. TWELVE! Yikes. Recently, his best friend since childhood passed away. I wanted to attend the viewing and the funeral, but I was sick during that time. I thought about what it would have been like if I did go. Would they even recognize me? I haven’t seen them in years. I felt sad for the family, but I didn’t feel much myself until later in the day. I realized it’s another connection to my dad that’s lost. It’s gotten to the point
When my dad passed away, there were many parts of my life that were completely altered, and many experiences in my future that I knew would never be perfect without him: my birthdays, Christmas, Sundays watching the Eagles. One of the biggest things that loomed over my head was my engagement and wedding to Marc.
We had moved in together a mere 4 days prior to my dad’s heart attack. We knew our futures were together and what those special occasions would look like played lik
I have a friend, Joan, who is extremely talented at anything involving art. She can draw, she can paint, she can sculpt. She can even do nail art as I learned my junior year of high school when she painted my nails before a school dance.
For someone so talented, her art isn’t the basis of her career. Instead, she kicks ass in the marketing department for an international company. Her artwork captures a variety of styles— portrait, landscape, inanimate objects— and could be
A few weeks ago, an old friend reached out to me saying that she had seen SSFYL and needed advice. She had just lost her uncle in a similar way to how I lost my dad and wanted to know what she could do for her three cousins, his daughters. It's a type of question I've been getting asked frequently.
Long story short—there is nothing you can do to completely take away the person’s pain. Don’t put that pressure on yourself! You are not expected to solve your loved one's troubl
Logic vs. Emotion: a match-up you will hear me speak about many times.
I know, logically, there is no direct correlation between my actions that week and my dad’s survival. But, emotionally, you can’t tell me otherwise. Not then, and not now.
Just yesterday, I broke down in the middle of my FlyWheel class (sorry 11:30am class!). I pedaled as fast as I could, but I still could not hit the RPM the instructor demanded.
“You can’t do it. You can’t hit that number, just like yo
Remember being in school growing up and thinking to yourself in the middle of a lesson, “Whyyyy the hell are they teaching me this? I’m never going to use this information outside of here.” I did that especially with math. “I want to be a journalist,” I thought. “I’m not even going to use algebra in my career.”
Next thing you know, I’m in my twenties, setting up equations to figure out how many bottles of Tito’s vodka I need to buy for the upcoming bachelorette party I’m att
I woke up to another sunny day on Wednesday, May 17th. Unbeknownst to me, I wasn’t appreciating it the way I should’ve been at the time. Instead of embracing the beauty of the city lit on fire by the sun’s rays, I groaned at the busy day ahead.
I started to get ready in the new apartment I shared with Marc as of a mere four days before. An exciting time of our life for sure. But it is not excited I feel this morning; it’s annoyed. I stand at the sink, brushing my teeth, anno