On January 17th, 2025, my life changed forever. My father, John Hoffman, my best friend and my biggest motivator died by suicide. He was living in California at the time, while I was attending college in Arizona, pursuing the dreams he had always encouraged me to chase. After an argument with his girlfriend, he made a decision that left a hole in my life that I am still trying to understand. My father was more than a parent; he was my confidant, the one person who loved me unconditionally and listened to every thought, fear, and hope I had. He inspired me to believe in myself when I struggled to. I had believed that he would be with me forever. We had talks of him walking me down the isle or how he would he would be the "cool grandpa" for my children. Now whenever I think of these events there is just a hole where he would be. His death felt like the ground beneath me had shattered. Emotionally, I have not recovered completely. Grief comes and goes in waves. Some days, it feels manageable; others, it feels like the weight of missing him could crush me. The hardest part is the feeling that I lost the one person who truly understood me. My dad was not married and I was his only child and because I was 18, everything surrounding his death fell to me. I still remember when I had gotten the phone call from the Sheriff's office. When he told me that my father had passed away I was devastated. Initially I had assumed maybe he had gotten in a car accident or something similar in nature, but then he broke the news to me that he had taken his own life. I did not believe him at first. He had to be lying. It wasn't possible. But it was possible, and he was not lying to me. I sobbed for the next couple of days, unable to leave my bed or do anything. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I just sat there and cried until I ran out of tears. I hardly had much time to mourn before I was thrown into the whirlwind of paperwork and lawyers. My grandparents, my father's parents, had helped me through much of this process. All of the signatures and processes were sickening. I didn't want any of it. I just wanted my dad. In the aftermath of his death, I found myself pulling away from many people. It seemed like every conversation circled back to what had happened, and I couldn’t bear to keep reliving it over and over again. Isolation felt safer, even if it wasn’t healthy. However, I realized that connection was one of the few things that could help me heal. Through countless phone calls, visits, and late-night talks, I found that there were far more people who cared about me than I had ever realized. Their patience and presence became a lifeline when I needed it most. Another important part of how I have dealt with this loss is through writing. Sometimes I write letters to my father, telling him about my day, my fears, my small victories, and the moments I wish he could have shared with me. Other times, I simply journal my feelings without any clear structure. Writing gives me a way to process my grief in a private, honest way without the fear of judgment. It feels like a conversation that, while one-sided, still keeps a small thread of our bond alive. School has helped me cope in a way as well. It has given me a good distraction and something to put my thoughts and concentration into. My father always stressed the importance of school to me and so in light of his death I have begun pushing myself harder than before, wanting to take advantage of the life I have for him. While my GPA has suffered slightly from the time I lost to deal with his death, I am confident that I will make it better. I will not allow myself to waste away such precious opportunities. This devastating loss has taught me lessons I never wanted to learn but that I now carry with me every day. Losing someone that had been by my side for my entire life was such a mind altering even, changing the whole way I think about life itself. It has changed my appreciation for everything. Most importantly, I have learned that life continues, even when it feels impossible. My father’s death does not define the rest of my life; rather, how I live now can honor him and the love he gave me. Every class I attend, every goal I pursue, and every step forward I take is a testament to his belief in me. Even when it feels like my world is ending, I know I have to keep moving forward—not just for myself, but for him. Grief is not something that ends or that has a clear path. I am learning that healing is not about forgetting, but about finding ways to live with the loss and still move forward. Some days are still incredibly hard. Some days I still feel broken. But there are also days where I feel strong and proud of the progress I have made, and I know that my father would be proud too. Losing my dad to suicide was the most painful experience of my life. It left a scar that will never fully fade. But it has also shown me the strength of the human heart. Through family, writing, and the promise of living a full life in honor of my father, I am finding my way forward.