He had Esophageal cancer and cruelly starved to death — an emaciated, painful release. I sat beside him, witnessing, comforting, holding space for him to let go, leave.
It was a stoic death. He was brave.
It’s now my turn to be brave.
I’m not sure how I am. I look for role models. The feisty, vibrant barista whose 4-year-old son died of an insidious brain tumour. The courageous massage client living with the devastating death of her husband by suicide. My friend’s beautiful 19-year-old daughter, on her first big overseas adventure, discovered dead in her bed one morning by a flatmate.
I know my grief cannot compare to these experiences — to lose a child or a beloved partner. My father was 83 — a full life lived. The cancer had been part of his life for 3 years before he died. It was expected. I was prepared. And yet!
My grief is real. Palpable. A process to navigate. Unknown. Scary.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
My mind rattles on…
“What’s the purpose of life? What’s the point of living if you just die? Why bother? Hell, if I’m going to die then I’d better make sure I live with joy and happiness now! I don’t want to waste my life as it’s short. I need to enjoy my life. Have fun. Be creative. Do what I love. Relax. Stop striving for perfection. Lighten up. Do exactly what I want. Don’t take anything too seriously. I’m going to die anyway so it doesn’t really matter. None of it matters. It’s all fleeting.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah…
The reality is, I’m struggling. I can’t seem to hold onto any ideas or impetus to move forward. I feel a spark of motivation to do something, then it slides away. I look forward to hopping into bed with my laptop, chocolate, biscuits, anything sweet and a show to mindlessly escape into.
Then in disgust at myself, I make a new resolution to eat clean. I go to the gym. I make a new plan, Write my goals. Feel the spark of excitement that ‘I’m back’ and I can do anything I want because I’m strong and focused and amazing.
And then I’m not. I slide again. I slump into the place of no thought. Of dark, sweet comfort in my mouth and the soothing distraction of the screen.
Is this grief? Or depression?
HELP!!!!
If I was to very carefully create a plan forward it would look like this:
Be very very kind to myself.
It’s ok Lee. Your Dad just died. He’s been an anchor to you throughout your whole life. He rocked you to sleep. Told you the best bedtime stories. Fostered your love of the ocean, the mountains, the birds. It’s completely reasonable to miss him deeply, cry randomly and feel like just staying in bed!
It may not look how I think it should look.
I know there are stages of grief. I don’t know what stage I’m at or if it even matters. Last week I was feeling slightly fired up. I’d just finished watching a Netflix show and thought, “Right. I’m done with shows. I can do this.” The next day, I’m feeling light, joyful even. I’m driving to work and a Hall & Oates song comes on the radio. A surge of pain wells up and I’m a sobbing, heaving mess.
And that’s how it is.
Have no expectations.
I don’t know what to expect. I’m ok with that. I just want my energy back. Which is having an expectation of having great energy when maybe my body, my soul, my being is healing. And this may take time or not. I don’t know.
Make peace with not knowing.
Even writing this bit helps me feel a little lighter. This is a new experience, this ‘Death-of-my- Dad-Grief’ and unknowable in every way. As I soften around this idea of ‘not knowing’ my grief process, it feels more manageable, even very slightly exciting — an adventure with gifts and new lands awaiting discovery perhaps!
Appreciate the gifts of this experience.
I think the biggest gift so far has been this intense refining of who I am.
Who am I now that my father is gone? How do I want to live my life in a way that honours who I am and honours where I’ve come from? How do I want to create my life now? How can I contribute to the world in ways that bring joy to myself and others?
Grief and pain can help us to reflect upon our lives and to have more empathy, compassion and forgiveness towards others.
A surprising gift for me is I feel much more connected to my father’s family who all died before him. He was sexually abused by an older brother and I have harboured a burning rage towards this brother for many years. Over the past few months as my grief process unfolds, I’ve realised I need to release my anger and forgive this man.
He’s dead, my Dad’s dead. I’m still living. Why would I continue to poison myself with these rageful thoughts?!
My gift
is now a feeling of peace and love towards ALL of my father’s family. It’s a relief.
Have hope.
As I write this, I feel a warm sparkle inside myself.
It’s hope.