There were memories we could have made. A road trip to the farthest countryside. A day out on the beach. Island hopping on the North. The goal was to travel as far as we could for as long as possible. In each place, we’ll take souvenirs of photographs and fond memories.
That night in June changed everything. Just like that, forty-four years ended in a fatal arrhythmia. Prayers poured that night, but there’s no stopping the hand of death. “He’s gone.” That’s what the doctors said. And I felt the world stood still. Our family portraits will never be complete again.
My cousin said, “We will never know why, and it may never make sense to us.” Of course, how can something so final and permanent be understood? How can a life end just like that? Why does the world go on so quickly when we’ve just lost our dad. Can’t we stop for a while? How can they have fun when all the world I knew fell apart?
Grief is all emotions rolled into one. But it never really hits you until you’re happy and want to share that happiness with the people you love the most and miss the most. How many times have I almost broken down? Oh, how I envy anyone who gets to spend more time with their dads.
But what does our grief tell about us? The other day, I saw a post that says, “Grief is the love you can no longer give.” It makes sense. But it’s not all that because that love you can no longer give can also eat you inside.
And for a long time, I’ve misunderstood grief. I thought it was all anger, longing, and sorrow rolled into one. And so I wouldn’t say I liked it. I did not want to process what happened because I did not want to accept the truth I had to live with for the rest of my life.
The irony is that while I loathed it with every piece of my being, I was holding on to it with all the love I could no longer give. How do you really deal with grief?
You don’t actually deal with grief and you can never move on from it. All you can do is live with it. It is the kind of pain that changes people in ways no other kind of pain does. Let it be the elephant in the room. Most of the time, it is just minding its own business. Then there’ll be days when that elephant chases you and corners you down in the room. It will stomp on your already broken heart as it continues to shatter you apart. Those are the worst days.
But it’s alright now. After all, this grief is proof of a life that was loved and celebrated. We’re all holding on to your memory, old man. So let this grief hold the pain until we see each other again.
