I have often wondered what makes a person an adult. I certainly didn't feel like an adult at 18 (or 19, 20, 21, or 22), didn't feel particularly grown up when I graduated from college, and until now, have sort of been wondering when that transition would happen. I know it doesn't have to be an all-at-once transformation, but I also anticipated things like marriage or childbirth being strong indicators of adulthood. I did not think the death of a parent would be my first major growing up moment, and find it almost funny that it has had such an effect on my self perception. Not "haha", funny, of course, but funny because I feel like an adult for the first time at a point when more than ever I want to curl up in someone's lap, cry, be held, have my hair stroked, and all my decisions made for me.

One of the (many) challenges I am seeing in the aftermath of my father's death is that it feels like I am living two incomplete lives. I am here in the states with my family until the 12th of October, but don't really have anything to do. While my sisters and mother return to their homes and slowly begin their daily activities, I wait... feel sad... find things in the house to clean... but as much as it feels like there is nothing for me here, there is, perhaps, almost less for me in Belgrade. Here I have so many dear friends, and of course my family... in Belgrade I have an apartment and a job (and all of my physical possessions) but little in the way of a support network. Where does that leave me, then? In limbo, in neutral, in the in-between, stalled, frozen, STUCK. Between where I grew up and where I want to be, between my responsibilities to my family and my aspirations for my career, between childhood and an adult life for which I might not be ready.

Of course, no one asked if I was ready. I keep thinking about the last time I talked to my dad on the phone, and the chances I had to call home that I turned down. The fact of the matter is, however, no matter when the last time I spoke to him was or could have been, I wouldn't have known it would be the last time, so I wouldn't have known to make it special. That paradox hurts. I am living day by day, moment to moment, taking the fears and sorrow and hope in bite size amounts, because that is all I can do right now (and, in the larger sense, all any of us can ever do).