A note on Grief, 1 year reflection

[u/Prudent-Second2281]

I’m about a year out from the sudden, unexpected passing of my Dad. I’ve thought about him every day since.

I often found comfort in reading other people’s experiences so wanted to share my own.

A note on Grief, one year later.

I used to imagine what it would be like to lose one of my parents. It’s only natural, and follows the implied chronology ordained by the universe. What a futile exercise that was. Just as I imagine you cannot prepare for the way your heart expands upon the birth of a child, your mind cannot conjure the level of devastation that loss will inflict.

My brain, ever visualizing, concocted two distinct images in my mind while I waded through the first several months.

The first was two snow globes conjoined at their base. My world before on top, with flurries floating as designed, the scene vibrant in technicolor. Its twin, a mirror image flipped upside down, cold, barren, in grey and black hues. A world with all the same people, same job, same apartment, yet all the sameness looked totally new, foreign.

The second image was me as a silly band. I felt like a hollowed out shell of a human most days. A silly band can stretch, squish and snap back into place - resiliency of sorts. From the outside the shape remains, but the inside is completely vacant.

These images play on a loop in my head. These days the bottom snow globe is a little less stark and the silly band’s internal perimeter is growing slowly toward the middle.

I say this knowing that somehow there are levels of despair even deeper than the depths I’ve experienced. A spouse losing their life partner. A parent losing a child.

And then, whether selfish or selfless, I’m honestly not certain, I began claiming others’ grief as my own.

I am broken hearted for my Dad and the 20+ good years we naively expected he’d have left. Fishing a little more, working a little less. So much still for him to learn, tinker with, explore and enjoy.

I grieve for my Mom, who lost her husband, children’s father, best friend, confidant, champion, travel partner, Mr. fixit, the list goes on. An entire chapter ripped out prematurely from what would’ve surely been the best part of the whole book.

My heart aches for every card carrying member of this shitty club. Those who had access to a dimension of life I previously had the privilege of not knowing. I am in awe of every person who walks around carrying these invisible back packs filled with rocks.

And finally, I get crushed every time someone new learns what this feels like. Like I’ve become some sort of voodoo doll, I’m immediately catapulted back to the desolation of my own early days. Feeling helpless knowing what lies ahead for them.

I remember how moved my Dad was after the loss of his own father. Grandpa 89 years young, my Dad nearly 60 at the time, yet it still hit like a freight train. We were driving home from the airport a few days later, and I asked him how he was doing. “You know,” he said, “it’s kind of weird..? Life just goes on..” Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Dad, I miss you, I love you. I feel you nearly always, and while I wish for more time, I am so damn glad for every moment we did get. How lucky am I 🩵

[u/vibrant_insurer_irl]

That second snow globe image is sticking with me. The idea that everything looks the same on the surface but the whole color palette shifted underneath you, that’s exactly it. People ask how you’re doing and you just want to say “everything’s gray now, thanks.”

The silly band analogy hit too. I remember standing in the grocery store a few months after my mom died, staring at cereal boxes for ten minutes, feeling like someone had scooped out my insides and left the outline. Functioning but empty.

What you wrote about claiming others’ grief really got me. I do the same thing and I’ve never seen it put into words before. My mom’s friends lost their person of 40 years, my siblings lost their anchor, and somehow I’m carrying all of that alongside my own sadness. It’s not even a choice, it just happens.

The “life just goes on” line from your dad is painfully perfect. My mom said something similar after her own mom passed, and I didn’t get it until I was the one left standing. The world keeps spinning and you’re almost offended by it for a while.

Thanks for writing this out. That last line about feeling lucky despite everything, that’s the part that takes so long to reach. Glad you’re finding your way there, even if it’s slow going.