I’m an over-thinker, a decisive planner—it’s both a strength and a weakness.

Whether it’s planning a trip into the city, where I map out parking and potential restaurants, or organizing a vacation with friends, I handle every detail. In Puerto Rico, I planned a trip for 10 friends that they still say was one of the best they’ve been on. At work, I rely on project management tools and schedules to stay ahead of deadlines without sacrificing my work-life balance.

But when things change rapidly or unexpectedly, it can throw me off balance.

On October 17, 2017, I got the call. My mom had died.

From the moment I got the call, nothing felt real. The Dan from before was suddenly a stranger to me. I couldn’t make decisions. I couldn’t plan. Everyone called and turned to me for guidance, but I had nothing to give. I was paralyzed, frozen in that moment, unable to process what was happening.

I can’t remember who booked my flight or packed my bag. I don’t know how we made it to the airport, who would feed our cat. I don’t know how our family from all over the country managed to land in Florida almost at the same time. I just know they did. And I never really thanked them for that.

While I was frozen in shock, others were in motion, helping me in ways I couldn’t comprehend at the time.

So, thank you. To everyone who got me to Florida. And Alexis, thank you for guiding me when I felt lost.

I only remember making two decisions that day.

One was getting a hotdog from a 7-11 near the airport. I have never once considered buying a hotdog from 7-11 in the past. I also wasn’t hungry. That hotdog sucked, but in the chaos, the randomness felt grounding. It was a decision I could make, something I could control. It also made me laugh.

The other decision was the harder one. My sister and I hadn’t spoken in years, our relationship strained by old, deep wounds. But when I saw her at the airport, I made the choice to forgive. We hugged and cried. My sister needed that to start healing. I did too.

Thea, years later, wrote to me, Honestly, in a weird way, mom’s passing brought us closer and made me realize how precious life is and how we shouldn’t take anything for granted.

I agree, Thea.

We packed into a van, driving quietly to Jensen Beach.

I’m grateful my mom passed at home, in the place that held our childhood—the house where we watched Rugrats eating dinner, where love filled every room.

She passed in her sleep, in a home full of cherished memories, with the pets she adored curled up beside her. And while I wasn’t there to hold her hand, I take comfort knowing she was surrounded by everything that made her feel safe.

And on her phone, an unsent text to me: just the letters “lu”. I like to think she was trying to say she loved me one last time.