My Dad – someone who often was my whole world in my eyes – is the first person I’ve ever lost. This is my first experience of grief and I don’t know what to do.
Grief lingers in dark corners and is a heavy weight on my heart.
Grief doesn’t follow rules of times to show up and times to go away. It does whatever it wants.
Sometimes I forget my Dad has died, you know. I just forget and for a few blissful moments in my day – maybe I’m typing a document at work, maybe I’m taking a sip of tea or savoring the flavour of a choc-chip cookie on my tongue…and I’ll get lost in that safe, happy moment where my Dad isn’t gone from this earth.
And the tears prick my eyes and my heart aches.
Grief is an insidious bastard.
It’s heavy and cold. It’s awful because it can arrive at any time and in any amount – like, it can be a little pang in my heart when I hear a song that my Dad used to love…or it can be floods of tears when I pick up my phone to call Dad and share a joke or a stupid thing with him and realise that suddenly now, I can’t.
This pain and sadness…this deep chasm of loss I feel has to be 1000 times worse for my Mom. She’s lost the love of her life and there must be so much around her that reminds her of Dad. My heart breaks for the pain Mom must be going through. Oh how I wish to remove it and give her only happy days and happy times.
Navigating grief is like finding your way out of a huge forest.
It’s hard! It’s scary. It’s full of questions.
I absolutely hate it.