STAMPlorations turns 6 in June -- here's why we aren't having a birthday blog hop to celebrate

Hey, STAMPlorations friends. So around this time for the past few years, I would normally give you guys a heads up about STAMPlorations' birthday in June. Last year, our birthday celebration was preceded by a wishlist linky party and we celebrated all month.

Our little company is turning 6 years (on June 29 to be exact), and I had every intention of celebrating it with the STAMPgirls with a week-long blog hop and linky party. But life has a way of throwing us off...and our plans.

Last May 12, the morning of Mother's Day, my dad had a stroke. Three hours after he was rushed to the hospital, he slipped into a coma, but not before he made it clear to my family that he didn't want any life-saving measures done that would simply let him live the rest of his life as a vegetable. His scans showed he had a massive brain stem stroke and the doctors didn't sugarcoat or give my mom and siblings hope: there was nothing that could be done except make my dad comfortable.

The doctors estimated he wouldn't live past Tuesday. He didn't wait that long. He was all about efficiency. And being the boss. And not prolonging any suffering. So 24 hours later, on May 13, he died. He was 65. We were assured that he was never in any pain or discomfort. We barely had time to process everything.

All this happened with me 7,000 miles away. I was glued to my phone and computer the entire time, keeping in touch with my family mainly via video calls. I have never felt so helpless in my life -- seeing my dad on the hospital bed, knowing that any moment he would die, and not being able to touch and kiss him one last time. I am so thankful we have the technology today that enabled me to see my dad from thousands of miles away. But no advancement in technology could ever lessen my pain of losing him.

I was in the middle of planning our birthday celebration when my dad died, but I found I couldn't continue with it...at least not in the foreseeable future. Here I am two and a half weeks later and I am still a mess, barely able to get more than the basic/minimum of tasks done. I still can't bring myself to think about celebrating anything, not when my heart is broken and I have more bad days than good days. I never know when I'd break down and cry. I just know that I hurt and find myself desperately wishing I'd wake up from a really bad dream and be back in a world where my daddy is alive and well.

I'm blessed to have a design team -- I consider them my second family -- who embraced me, is giving me the space and time to grieve, and understands why I couldn't push through with any of the stuff I originally planned for June.

My dad and me in 1980. I was 4 years old.

In December 2017, a few days before Winter was born, my dad stood by my work table and watched me package orders. He stood silent for a few minutes and then asked, "Do you still do any writing?" I remember telling him I did, but that I had scaled back and accepted work only from a few long-time clients. "Are you happier doing this?" I gave him a smile and said, "Yes, I am." Then I explained that the people in this community were kinder, customers were more understanding. I could set my own deadlines and be flexible with them; I loved being in the company of extremely talented designers, and I enjoyed drawing and designing more than writing and editing.

Years ago, he would have told me that I'd be better off having a regular job. But on that day, he said, "That's good. I'm glad you're happy with what you're doing. That's the most important thing." That day, I felt he finally understood why I do what I do. (He and I were so much alike that we often butted heads when I was young and thought I knew everything.)

I don't want to end this post on a sad note. We will still celebrate...just not in June. I am hoping and praying for more good days than bad days, and that in time I will be back in my usual gear and work/do more. But for now, I am taking it one day at a time. Thank you for reading this far.