On Sunday, my family said goodbye to my dad. I was grateful for the chance to be at his bedside in his last week, the amazing hospice staff who cared for him, and for all of the texts, messages and thoughts from this community. I am incredibly blessed. My dad was an amazing man, a person of faith who loved people first and lived for his family. His laughter, his sense of humor, and his peaceful demeanor will be missed beyond measure.

Having a variety of self-care tools this week has been immensely helpful. When I couldn't find the words, I made art. When I needed to make meaning or capture a memory, I wrote. When my mind was unsettled, I went to my breath and meditation practice. When my body was weary, I found solace in yoga and Nidra. And always there was the love of supportive community.

These tools have made a difference for me. In the past, I have been prone to coping with trauma and pain by over-functioning. Switching into a task-oriented mode allowed me to avoid hard emotions but robbed me of connection and true healing. My mindfulness practice has instead taught me to appreciate stillness, so I can stay present to my pain and the pain of others and better be of service.

I haven't always been this unapologetic about self care. I used to hide my journal habit and little rituals. They felt silly. I was embarrassed, ashamed that I 'needed' so much help. But these mindfulness practices are no longer afterthoughts for me. They are not beside the point. They are the point. Woven into the fabric of my days, they are acts and choices that create a more beautiful, more present, and more human way of living.

Lately, an old quote from a memoir keeps coming into my mind. "She took exquisite care of herself so she could take exquisite care of others." My dad was a simple guy. He didn't always 'get' my world of yoga, meditation and art, but he loved me deeply. Like any parent, he wanted me to be happy. Caring for myself now is a way to honor his wishes and his legacy of love.

May you also take care, my friend.