The Weight of an Empty Chair

I still catch myself reaching for the phone like I'm about to call my dad. Then I remember. Eight years gone.

When the world piled on—layoffs, recession, uncertainty—that empty chair felt heavier than ever. He would've told me to breathe, maybe cracked a bad joke, definitely helped me zoom out. Instead, I found myself circling the same thoughts, the same fears, over and over.

The Storm That Won't Move

That's what rumination feels like: a storm looping in the same sky. It's not just "overthinking." It's a whole brain locked in replay.

The hardest part about the last three years of this tech recession is not having my dad around as a sounding board. I've been spinning in circles trying to know what to do with myself. I think I'm going in the right direction and have been focused on a project I think my dad would be super proud of—but I also can't help but wonder if I would have come to these conclusions sooner had I not lost my father eight years ago.

Collective Bargaining in Grief

It was hard enough to navigate without having him to get his take—but all the events of the world that soon followed took its toll on me as well. I guess this is what they call collective bargaining in grief. I suppose I don't know how he would have responded to all these crises himself. But I also know that had I come to him in crisis, he would have helped me relax.

The Safety of a Parent's Voice

That's the thing about having a good parent: they make you feel safe.

The truth is I don't have any answers, only questions. But sometimes, the only way out of the storm is naming it, and then walking straight into it.

Connects to: [[grief/2025-11-03--grief-is-a-neural-process]], [[rumination/2025-10-23--why-my-brain-wont-stop-replaying-old-mistakes]], [[2025-10-10--on-space-and-small-signals]]