Jacob Grabell

Growing up, I often heard "Life can change in the blink of an eye." My father lost his dad before he turned seven, and my mother lost hers young. On November 6, 2022, my world shifted. Dad was found unresponsive. Despite efforts, he was pronounced dead. Dad taught me everything, from riding a bike to being a man. His sudden absence le

ft me grappling with memories. I vividly recall that morning: my sister's panicked voice, the sight of Dad slouched over. I tried CPR desperately, my hands pressing against his chest, clinging to hope as my mother called 911. But deep down, I knew it was too late. His sudden absence left a void, one I promised to fill for my sister. We honored Jewish burial traditions promptly, finding solace in ritual. Yet, I questioned why such a good man was taken early. At Dad's funeral, I shared stories of his impact, surrounded by those he touched. As I buried him, I felt the weight of uncertainty—unsure if I could ever live up to the man I aspired to be.