Five Things I learned after my father was murdered, by Ariel Schwarts.

Hi. My name is Ariel. I'm 28, and I lost my Abba, who died on April 24th 2017. He was on a job on April 19th when a man, strung out on meth, came from behind and stabbed him. He was my hero and I miss him every single day.

Five Things I learned after my father was murdered:

1. I am not happy. This is difficult to admit because I do have so much to be happy about - I'm about to graduate nursing school, I have all of my beautiful animals, my family, and future possibilities - but I am not happy. It is a considerable weight upon my shoulders, as my dad was such a happy person. He was a smiling angel; MY smiling, happy, laughing angel. You literally couldn't help, but be happy when you were around him. He was infectious in that manner.

2. Losing my dad is like navigating through a fog. My dad was like my compass. He was always there for advice. He was always there to tell me what I should do if he were in my situation. Always there to offer his knowledge; made sure everything was a teachable moment, especially growing up. Some days I wake up and I have no idea what to do within my own volition. I don't even know what gets me up in the morning anymore.

3. I lost my security the day he died. I remember my mom saying, "Ari, Abba passed away." I remember screaming like a banshee in front of the hospital, on my knees on the asphalt, unwilling to believe that he was gone. Even after the funeral, - so filled with family, friends, restaurant owners, fire inspectors - the shiva, his shoes are still waiting for him at the door, the clothes are hung, you come home to a frighteningly empty house - formerly filled with laughter - and he is not there. It's unreal.

4. I did not get to say goodbye. I did not say goodbye to his physical body. I couldn't. And I regret that. It is a way to facilitate mourning, but I couldn't do it. My last goodbye to him was laying my head on his coffin, in front of hundreds of people. In a way, it was easier than seeing that empty, broken body of the man who was neither empty nor broken. I like to think of him as whole, as good, as strong.

5. The grieving never ends. Every April 24th, for the past four years, I die a little. It never gets easier.

You can follow Ariel on Instagram, @5dogsandanurse

Five Things is a collection of the five things our collaborators want you to know about life, death and everything in between. Over the next few months, we’ll be covering illness, dying, death, funerals, grief, heartache, adversity and many other topics. If you’d like to write your own Five Things, please get in touch.