A Moment for Grief

My Dad died suddenly of a heart attack on November 9 last year. While it’s only been two months, it feels like he’s been gone much longer than that.

Death is not unfamiliar to me, having lost two grandmothers and other extended family members, but losing a parent is undeniably different. The first week was the worst grief I’ve ever experienced. Any photo, video, or memory that crossed my gaze would begin a free fall of sadness and regret.

Grief seems to closely resemble the emotional equivalent of physical weight. In the hardest moments its weight presses on your heart, and your mind, and squeezes out many “what ifs” and “I should have.”

But just as a physical muscle gains strength every time it lifts a weight, there is an emotional and mental strengthening each time grief is laid on your heart.

The weeks that followed my Dad’s passing included the holiday season, plus my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary and my Mom’s birthday. Maybe living through those big events so soon after was like a boot camp for grief. We were all required to power-lift grief over and over during those two months.

Now, the grief is not so heavy, but rather sneaks around the corner periodically to sting one more time. New Year’s Eve was one such moment. As the clock struck midnight I instinctively reached for my phone to text Dad, only to be reminded he’s no longer here to receive it.

For the record, I sent the text anyway.

Listening to various podcasts and reading books about grief, it seems the commonly referred to as “five stages of grief” aren’t really a thing. Research does not reinforce the idea that people have to experience a linear progression through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Instead, grief is different for everyone, and while those emotions may be present at different times, there is no standard formula.

Sharing memories and photos of the person lost may help. Learning about grief and how it affects your mind and body is valuable. And sometimes keeping your mind and hands busy is all you can do.

Those tropes you hear from people who have lost someone are all true. Tell your family and friends you love them, have those conversations with family sooner rather than later, make the effort to experience things or travel before time runs out, etc. But those never communicate the strangest feeling of all.

When you lose someone that close, a mother, or father, the world just feels different. It’s hard to articulate, but as I look out at the same trees around my house that existed before he died, they look, different. Driving to the grocery store feels different. Any accomplishment, struggle, or funny video that you would want to share, is now laced with a thin veneer of loss.

Everything you touch, hear, or experience is missing something. You don’t feel it all the time, but it’s palpable. It’s like the tint of each color has changed ever so slightly. Things are different now, and it will be this way forever.

So, while they may be tropes as previously stated, let me encourage you: Whatever the conflict, disagreement, or grudge that may have put space between you and your loved ones, none are worth carrying into death. Tell that family member and friend you love them, say the things left unsaid, do the things left undone, and while regret is inevitable, do your best to get ahead of the big ones today.