Nerds,

I salute you from Miami, finally coming home after marrying my best friends, hiking Utah canyons, and road tripping from Vegas to Park City.

I thought all the traveling would make “the day” easier this year and yet, it still hit me like an old playlist auto-shuffling into that song that always gets me.

12 years ago, I didn't write “the date” in my calendar. I assumed I’d remember the date your life changed forever. Right?

Not right. The date was the last thing on my mind.

The year after and ever since, I’ll get a text from someone who loves me: "thinking about your dad today!"

And just like that - kind and thoughtful words take me back to one of the hardest moments of my life: June 20th, 2014.

I was hungover that morning. Watching Star Wars for the first time from a laptop at 11am, hanging out with my roommate - whom I'd never see again after graduation.

It was the summer in Chicago when I met my inseparable friends - parks, festivals, dinners, we went out to Danny’s until 4am the night before.

The movie was introducing R2D2 when I get a Whatsapp from one of my best friends:

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is it true? Please tell me it's not true."

Cryptic, I stopped the movie. My gut told me to call my mom.

Her voice was low, somber, hiding something.

"Hola mi amor. Cómo estás?"

We went back and forth - me pretending I wasn't panicking, her pretending everything was fine.

After 2 minutes that felt like 20, I gave her an ultimatum: "If you can’t tell me what’s going on, I’m gonna call someone who will."

"Es que… vine con tu papá al hospital y… se acaba de morir."

Silence.

Time paused. Blood sugar dropped. Survival switch flipped, no room for tears, reasoning took over.

I see my roommate leaving the room to take a phone call. Her face equally pale as mine, making no eye contact. Someone from Panama was giving her the news.

"Okay. Thanks for telling me. I’m gonna buy a plane ticket there. Will call you once it’s done.”

Call dropped - a beep that felt like a boom.

I looked at my roommate. "My dad just died," I told her, instinctively, knowing full well she already knew.

"I know," she said, hugging me and shedding the tears I wasn’t yet ready to release.

Last year was the first time I geared up the courage to write the date in my calendar.

As if it finally dawned on me that this wasn't going away, I could no longer afford the emotional rollercoaster of being "caught off guard" every June.

So I did what I do best: I organized. Schemed. Set up a 24-hour alert in advance. 2026, I told myself, I'd be ready.

What I wasn't counting on is that an alarm 24h ahead of time just means the dread now lasts double the time. Because the issue was never the alert - from my phone or from a friend.

I lost my father at 21. And nothing can bring him back. 12 years in, I’m still in shock.

I know my best self today was partly shaped by that loss. I also know I’d give all of it away for one more dinner, one more hug, one more car ride to El Valle together.

And to add salt to the wound - Father's Day always falls on that same week.

Next year, it’s on the same day.

I never did finish Star Wars.

I quickly booked the flight, emailed my professors, and showered. I turned to execution mode - my preferred coping mechanism.

I've thought about finishing Star Wars many times since. I never do.

Maybe it’s a trigger to that specific morning. Or maybe it’s me trying to forget.

Either way - the Empire Strikes Back every year, full reign. I think my dad would find that funny.

See you on cyberspace,

Jules 🤸🏼‍♀️