TheGingerSnapped

The Ginger Snapped; Maybe now you’ll understand.

After attending 13 weeks of Grief Share, the one point that continuously stuck in my head, I lost my father at the age of 27, and 99% of you don’t understand what I went through. Almost every session it was recommended to write to journal, whether it went public or if was just something to keep to yourself. Before I begin, I want to thank my group for giving me the motivation to start writing about my journey. It’s time that the ginger finally snapped and shared her story.

My Father, my right-hand man, passed away at the age of 73. He passed away August 9, 2025, just 10 days before my 28th birthday. Nothing kicks you in the gut more then loosing your father and never wanting to celebrate your birthday again. My father was a fighter and he taught me how to fight. He fought for almost two years, in and out of hospitals, stuck with needles. He would always overcome it. I didn’t expect August 9th to be my last day with him. I didn’t think I would have to watch my father take his last breath while holding his hand in the hospital room.

We had a beautiful relationship — the kind where I could go to him for anything. As I got older, that bond only grew stronger. My father always called me his little girl. He never wanted his little girl to grow up.

Of course, like any father-daughter relationship, we had our ups and downs — especially during my teenage years — but I always felt deeply supported and understood by him. Despite the pressures of his work and ongoing health challenges, he showed up for me whenever he could.

My father was a loving father, mechanic, hot-rod and motorcycle fanatic. If you can imagine, you know where I got my name from. He loved my mother endless. They had a love that can’t be replaced. He was also the greatest support system. He would travel thousands of miles each year, to cheer my sister, my nephews, and myself on, in anything we did. Even if it was for an hour, he’d be there, with my mom, front and center. I just had to call up my dad with any issues I had, and he’d be at my place within an hour, or the next day. My father and I traveled all over, attending every car show we could and never missing a Sturgis Rally. Around the Fourth of July, my father let me shoot off parachutes in the driveway while you ate funyuns. The parachute tipped over, and I didn’t think it was lite. Well, it was and I picked it up, and there went my eyebrows. My father looked at me and said, “That’s okay, us redheads don’t have eyebrows anyways. They’re too blonde to see. No one will know.” Even in the tough situations, he always saw the good in everything.

He was the rock of the family. No one can replace the love he brought into our lives.

I didn’t think at the age of 28, I’d be without my father, my grandpa, and my best friend, Shawn. I lost all the important men in my life, before I turned 30.

Grief is weird. Grief is messy, and truthfully no one understands your grief. No other experienced the same relationship I had with my father. No other person understands how mentally and physically grief has changed me. The old Harlie can’t come to the phone, she’s gone.

Loosing a parent, screws you up, mentally and physically. Some days it doesn’t feel real that my father left.

I’m angry. I’m angry at myself because the night before my father passed, I was fishing. I could of been there at the hospital to have more time. But, instead I chose to fish. Since that day, my fishing pole hasn’t left my closet. Why was I so dumb to choose fishing over driving the two hours to Mitchell?

I’m angry at those people who left when I needed them the most. I’m angry at everyone who said they would be there, but I can count on my one hand, the people who are still there. I’m angry that I’ve had to keep my emotions in for so long and haven’t been able to express them. The one thing I’ve learned in this grief process, most people truly don’t care how you’re doing.. they just want to have that peace of mind that they actually asked you. Nobody knows how many times I bawled my eyes out in my vehicle. Nobody knows how bad loosing my dad has impacted me. I kept it all to myself, because I learned, people expect you get over grief quickly. People don’t know how to handle watching someone grief. Don’t get me wrong, my family has been a rock for me in all these obstacles I’ve faced, but death really brings out how true people really are to you. I was alone in my journey, processing my emotions and that’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The thing that hurt me the most is that, people don’t understand that after the funeral is when it hurts the most. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me how I was doing since my father passed. You must be curious if you’re still reading this.

They listen and respond in ways that they feel are helpful when in reality they are dismissing and invalidating my experience and brushing it off because it feels too difficult to sit with and talk to me. I have lost friends and people in my life because of this. But I’ve been okay with it. I can’t change people. I can only change who I talk to about my process.

The shy girl that use to be inside me of seems to be gone. I’m blunt quite frankly rude at times now.

Since loosing my father, there’s so many things that happen behind the scenes that people don’t understand. I’ve pushed off vital doctors appointments, because when I try to go into the doctor, I have a panic attack. I cry walking into car dealerships because my father is suppose to be working on my vehicle, not anyone else. I only sleep 3-4 hours a day, and honestly that’s a good day. I’ve lost motivation to do the things I use to love. I cry almost every time I go for my nightly walks. I can’t look at a motorcycle or Hot Rod without the memories of my father flowing through. I refuse to let someone else in my life, because why should I? I envy those around me who got to experience having their father at their wedding. Who’s suppose to walk me down the aisle? I won’t ever get to experience that. I sat in the bathroom at my cousin’s wedding, bawling, while the father/daughter dance played. My father won’t be here to see me have children, and quite frankly grow up. Each day is a new emotion and I’ve learned there’s a lot of people that can’t handle that. My father was robbed of me before I was even able to make him proud. You don’t understand how that feels. You’re not 28 without your father.

Everyday I wear a necklace with Dad and I’s picture, with the motorcycle cross he gave me.

In late January, I was in a really dark spot, mentally and physically. Everything seemed to catch up to me. I went to bed that night, and my father appeared in my dream. He was sitting on his blue recliner, with my parent’s dog, Duke. He looked at me and said, “My little girl. You have to keep fighting. I didn’t teach you to quit.”

My grief journey has been hard. I don’t like to talk about because if people truly cared they ask. My mother, my sister, my brother-in-law, my nephews, and some family have been my rock through all of it, and I couldn’t have done it without them. I don’t know if I will ever get over the anger I have toward people when my father passed. I don’t know if there will ever be a day where I can fully say, “I’m okay.” I lost my father. I lost the man that was suppose to watch me have a family.

When it comes to losing a parent at a young age, I wish people understood the impact it has on all areas of your life including how it changes and disrupts your sense of self. Many people think that because you grew up with your parent in childhood, made memories with them, got to know who they were as a person that it is ‘easier’ losing a parent as a young person/adolescent. In reality, it is extremely difficult particularly as you are going through periods of change, transition, self-discovery and typically when the relationship changes with your parent as you emerge into young adulthood, especially when you’re doing it alone.

I had no idea how the grieving process would go. In the first week, I stayed pretty rational and level-headed. My father being gone still doesn’t feel real at times and I fully believe going through the stages of grief is an incredibly fluid process. I find myself going from anger, to denial, to complete isolation, to a deep depression, and back to anger. And that is normal. I’m learning to accept feeling irrational and/or out of control with my emotions.

I find myself thinking of something new every day: whether it be a story about him, or mourning what I won’t be able to experience with him. I think about how he won’t be able to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, and that he won’t be able to get down on the floor and play with his grandchildren, or that he won’t be able to give them car lessons about everything under the sun. I’m sure people are right when they say things will get easier with time. But I know I will also have days where the pain of losing him knocks the wind out of me just as it did when I first received that phone call.

As I carry on the days ahead, I question if my father is proud of me. Ever since loosing my father, I feel like the world has been against me. I’ve struggled with health issues and starting over, wasn’t on the Bingo card after his death. I’m struggling with who I am and my purpose. But, I’m going to continue to live each day for my father. The man who raised me to not deal with stupid sh#t.

Even though he’s no longer physically here, my father is with me every day because I now live my life based on those words. It’s a unique challenge to lose someone so close to you at such a transformative stage of your life. What keeps me going is the hope that, one day, the good will outweigh the bad.

I have to believe that even though it will never be “fair” or “OK” that I had to experience this loss at this age, it will make me a better, stronger version of myself.

You don’t understand the pain I’ve gone through since loosing my father. You don’t understand the sleepless nights. You don’t understand how I don’t have any excitement for weddings. I’ve lost more then I can count before the age of 30. I’ll never be okay and people won’t ever understand that. Loosing my father changed me. I’m not the same person anymore and I never will be. If I let you in my life, just know, I’m trying to heal. I no longer have the man in my life that I looked up to. I can’t come home anymore to him on his recliner. I don’t have anyone to call for vehicle advice anymore. Most days it doesn’t feel real.

To my mother and sister, thank you. Thank you for being a rock and a shoulder to cry on. I love you.

The Ginger Snapped and I’m glad you are able to hear her story now.

I dedicate *Even Though You’re Leaving – Luke Combs to my father in heaven.