Breakfast and a Broken Plate: Served with a Side of Bitterness and Growth

My dad’s favorite meal was breakfast, so naturally, breakfast became my favorite too. Chicken-fried steak and eggs, over easy.. I still smile when I order that meal because it instantly brings back memories of our time together. Those breakfasts were more than just meals; they were moments that we connected. 

After his death, I spent nearly two years stuck in prolonged grief—angry and bitter about everything that happened. I didn’t just find my dad deceased; I was also left to close down his company, manage his debts, handle a lawsuit brought on by widowed girlfriend, and navigate shifting family dynamics on both sides. What I really needed was time to grieve and process it all. But without a job after his passing, I had no choice but to return to work before I was ready.

At 25, I was emotionally immature—who isn’t at that age, right?  I didn’t know how to handle the flood of emotions or when to take a step back and say, “I’ve had enough.” Now I do. In fact, I have said many times that  I will never again fight over money to the point of burning bridges or losing my peace.

Slowly, week by week, I sifted through the pain and began to build resilience, even in the face of setbacks: a family member’s suicide attempt, another tragic death, and relatives still struggling with their own trauma.

Even shattered glass can be reshaped—stronger and more flexible than before. I’ve been through the fire and like Elton John sings, “I’m Still Standing.”