ANOTHER JOURNAL ENTRY | Katie Huntley

My dad was one of the most incredible men in my life. He was always my biggest supporter, the most incredible source of inspiration and all about giving out life lessons. Dad had, in my opinion, a rough upbringing which led to him running away from home when he was 16 and joining the Merchant Marines. And I am so very grateful for what he went through, because it made him who he was, and being an amazing dad was just a portion of that. For the record, my mom’s pretty damn incredible, too ― but since Father’s Day just happened, I want to pay tribute to my dad and all the important life lessons he taught me over the years (most of which, I didn’t really pay attention to until I was much older). He taught me the meaning of respect, both giving and receiving. He taught me that independence comes with responsibility, and he allowed me to learn that the hard way. He taught me many lessons in responsibility through raising and caring for animals (mainly horses). He taught me to ...

As Father’s Day fast approaches, I have started feeling more and more emptiness, because there is such a huge void in my life, in my mother’s life and my siblings… it has taken me a long time…weeks even…to finally allow these emotions to surface. When my dad was first diagnosed with stage 4 esophageal cancer, I spent the first couple of months researching the outcome. It wasn’t good. I accepted that he was dying but I couldn’t accept that I might not have a year with him. After each doctor appointment, where we continuously got bad news, I turned from being hopeful to being quietly realistic. On the outside, I tried being hopeful for my family’s sake, but the more I learned about the disease, it was evident that we didn’t have years. I shifted my research and began studying what it would be like when my dad would start actively dying. Maybe that is a morbid way of looking at things, but I have always wanted to be prepared. In my head, the more I knew, the less it would hurt when ...

I died last night… in my dream, shot point blank in the face. Most unexpected and with no prelude to death, a stranger simply appearing before me with a gun in a public place. I had no time to react or resist. Only a split second of shock at the realization of what was happening before they pulled the trigger. And I died then. My body below me, crumpled and marred. An empty shell that once housed my life. I’ve never died before, so I didn’t really know what to expect. I suppose I thought things would go black but they didn’t. Somehow, I watched the violence and carnage continue as the shooter picked his next victims. My friend, a stranger… I watched them fall. I waited for the horror I must be feeling at the scene in front of me, or the fear that accompanies danger but I felt only one thing… peace. And I was momentarily baffled. Why didn’t I feel sadness or anger or terror? This was wrong, so very wrong! How could I feel tranquility in the face of such tragedy?? And sudd...