One year ago, I left my job to travel with my father. Neither of us had taken a vacation in years; he was a widower living alone, and I was a journalist who had prioritized my career for 25 years.
A trip was something we had discussed after my mother unexpectedly died from cancer on Christmas 2021.
My father wanted to visit her family overseas to say “thank you” and “goodbye” in person. He was slowing down physically, and we agreed we should go together. Additionally, it would be nice for me to travel without having to check my email and alerts for breaking news.
He had lost significant weight
I drove from Los Angeles to San Francisco to meet my father and plan our next year of adventures. I immediately noticed something was wrong. He had lost considerable weight since I last saw him a few months prior. He told me he had food poisoning from a bad salad he had eaten weeks before.
“Food poisoning doesn’t last for weeks,” I replied.
Concerned, I took my father to urgent care the following day. Under the hospital’s bright lights, his jaundice was apparent. Even the whites of his eyes had turned yellow.
My father was immediately admitted for testing and observation. Having gone through this process a few years prior with my mom, he instructed me to go home. Ironically, the new luggage I had bought for us was waiting on his doorstep when I returned.
He never walked through that front door again. He died in the hospital of pancreatic cancer 10 days later.
We didn’t get to make new memories
Death certificates replaced passports. Instead of making new memories with dad, I desperately tried to hold onto the ones I had.
The weeks that followed were overwhelming. My brain, which had gone into vacation mode, snapped into “next of kin” mode. In addition to my father’s friends and relatives, financial institutions and insurance agencies had to be notified of his passing. There was also his beloved garden that needed tending — I live in a plantless condo and definitely do not have a green thumb — and a refrigerator stocked with perishable food I didn’t want to waste.
Not having a job at the time had its advantages and disadvantages. I didn’t need to rush back to my job in Los Angeles. I could stay in San Francisco indefinitely and settle his affairs. But not having work also meant I had eight additional hours each day to grieve and regret what I could’ve done differently. There was a lot of work to be done, and a lot of reflecting.
A year has now passed, and I’m now ready to return to the workforce.
I’m ready to redirect my energy into work
One of my motivations is financial. While I budgeted to take a year off and was also left with an inheritance, I incurred unforeseen expenses, including my father’s outstanding mortgage.
I also want comprehensive employee health benefits. After losing both parents to late-stage cancers, my physical health has become a top priority. I’m currently paying COBRA benefits out of pocket, and those premiums skyrocketed earlier this year under the current administration.
Finally, there’s my mental health. Grief is overwhelming. There is no timeline for grief, and I certainly still have rough days a year after my dad’s passing. I loved and still love my mom and dad very much. But now that I’ve largely settled his affairs, including getting his house ready for sale, I’m ready to redirect that energy back into work.
I tested the waters back in March, ironically on the vacation I finally ended up taking. I went to Milan for the Winter Olympics. I had previously covered a half-dozen Games for various outlets, but never attended one in person. I started my journalism career 25 years ago as a skating researcher at ABC/ESPN (yes, such a role existed) and shared Threads on Ilia Malinin, Alysa Liu, and other headline-making 2026 Olympians. I somehow became THE expert on the platform, garnering over four million views in two weeks.
After months of sadness, I finally felt happy. I was interacting with others and engaging creatively, two things I hadn’t really done since my dad passed. In adulthood, I’ve prided myself on being a good son and a good journalist. Now that only the latter remains, it’s where I want to put my efforts.
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