This is a story
about a daughter’s unconditional
love for her
father.
AND HOW This work is inspired by his life and death. The Confetti Project is her grief, transformed.
Their lifetimes overlapped for 26 years. Right before she was born marked a time of great loss - he would lose the three most important women in his life - his wife, sister and mother-in-law - in a year. This was a man whose life was rooted in survival and resilience - simply because he had no other choice. He was born during WWII, lost two mothers, lived in poverty, ran away from communism, illegally crossed mountainside borders by foot, lived in a refugee camp to eventually come to America as an immigrant with nothing but his dreams - all before 20. While at his most heartbroken, a twist of fate led him to having his first daughter - marking a new chapter for him at 45. From the day his eldest daughter was born, he showered her with love. When she was a baby, he would take her on car rides to fall asleep with her hand wrapped around his pinky. When she began dating, he told her to look for someone with a heart of gold. But most importantly, he gave her his time. She once said, “we logged thousands of hours in deep conversation where he answered every question.” To which someone answered: what a beautiful gift he gave you - his time. I’m going to remember this when my kids tell me their stories tonight. He was a role model, protector, best friend, hero - guiding her through life. She remembers him most as an endless capacity for love. Now, he is an emblem of her greatest blessing and source of pain. This is her "cancer and confetti" story that chronicles her journey dousing 100 people with confetti while losing her father to cancer in 2016. This is how she navigated that bittersweet, insightful landscape of loss - which ultimately gave her a new meaning to celebration and life.
“Dad, are you afraid of dying?” He shakes his head no. “Why would I be? We all have a number. When your number is called, there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s your time to go.”
“All these little pieces of confetti are me - my imperfections, insecurities, superpowers - that are all meant to be celebrated.”
Nichole
The worst part was the pain. A month after his diagnosis, he could only open his mouth an inch because an aggressive tumor was pressing on his trigeminal nerve by his temple. This accelerated his decline. This was my first time hearing the term “pain management.”
Home. It’s become a weird place. I dread visiting sometimes. My father hasn’t been able to open his mouth in months. Pain. Everyday. Yet he smiles when he sees me. How I will miss him when he goes is a thought running through my head.
"You should go to the hospital. It's bad. He can't breathe on his own." This was the moment where everything came to a stop, signifying that the battle will be over soon. My father was hooked up to so many machines. I kept thinking how this was all fake and that he would get up and we would all drive home, putting the past year behind us. My sisters and I slept in the hospital room with him everyday the last two weeks of his life.
“Today and everyday I celebrate family. My family is my wealth and my world. they make me tick And the world is a more beautiful place because they are in it.”
Jessica
He lived an extra three weeks. In the end, he couldn't talk, eat or open his eyes but he waited for his youngest daughter to come home after her college graduation - seeing his wish of his three girls finishing school come true. He died on May 7, 2016.
After he died, she cultivated a deep relationship to grief. Her grief showed her that joy can co-exist within heartache. Her grief became a facilitator for her healing and forging her own path by helping people celebrate their lives while they’re alive. Her grief is her fuel, fire, motivation, growth. When her worst nightmare came true, it spurred a belief that intertwining celebration within all of our moments is a vital outlook. Her grief is a conduit to her father and her underlying love for him. Mortality reminds her of the baseline blessings we all have just by being alive. Her grief is The Confetti Project and why she has decided to dedicate her life to it. Her father poured his gifts into her and she is pouring them into the world. She dedicates this to him and those before us that have fought to stay in the beauty.