My dad, Melvin Blonsky, died last week on June 15, 2021. While not a complete surprise, the timing super sucked, as we had a trip planned to Florida to see him this week. I had accepted that this trip would probably be the last time I’d see him alive, but the universe had other plans, and he left us before we got to see him in person.
This last week has felt like a crash course in grief, vulnerability and resilience. Yes, my dad is dead, but at the same time, my life goes on, and I think he would’ve wanted it that way.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not grieving.
Since All Bodies on Bikes came out in March, over 219,000 people have watched me struggle up a mountain, talk candidly about my body, and swim joyfully in the Pacific Ocean. Experiencing the world talk about me and my body actually has a surprising relevancy to grieving my dad - I’m finding that its ok to cry in public, its ok to be vulnerable, and it’s ok to not be ok right now. I’m also learning that it’s ok to compartmentalize, to still experience joy, and to continue living my life unapologetically.
Just because my Dad is dead doesn’t mean that I have to stop living. He wouldn’t want it that way and I think it’d actually make it him pretty upset.
So, I guess what I want to say is thank you. Thank you for sticking with me on this journey, riding bikes with me when I ask, being a shoulder to cry on when I need it, bringing me food when I can’t feed myself.
Grief is not linear and I’ve found myself crying at the most random times. In the grocery store when a Traveling Wilburies song comes on (one of my Dad’s favorite bands). At the bookstore looking for a soul soothing read. Biking up Pike Street and remembering the time my Dad took us to Gameworks after The Big Lebowski (I was 11, so when you ask if I want to watch that and say no, that’s why.)
But I’m also really proud of him. He had 21 years clean and sober. He struggled with depression most of his life and there were many years when I feared he would take his own life. That’s a fear no child should ever have.
So Dad, Uncle Mel, Zeyde, good job. You made it through COVID, you were loved by many people. You lived a long, fun life that inspired many of us. I love you. See you on the other side.