My Father
My father, a beloved writer in religious circles and a pillar of his community, tragically perished in a fire explosion over a year ago. As a child, he filled my days with wheelbarrow rides and captivating tales of adventure. I loved my daddy. But as I grew, our relationship became strained due to family conflicts involving abuse, addiction, and religious disparities. Eventually, for my own safety and well-being, I had to part ways with my family.
A Complicated Grief
The grief for an estranged loved one is uniquely complex. Emotionally, I had already mourned the loss of my father years before his actual passing. His death brought a different kind of sorrow compared to previous losses. It’s challenging when society doesn’t recognize or validate these types of losses. I’ve never seen a sympathy card offering condolences for the loss of an estranged parent. Co-workers and friends assumed I had a close bond with my dad, unaware of the truth. While their intentions were good, their conversations left me feeling alone and emply.
Emotional Tsunami
After days of numbness, intense anger surged through me, leading to hours of pounding my tennis racket on my bed. This release helped me understand that my anger was a natural reaction to my difficult circumstances. Subsequently, overwhelming sadness engulfed me. I tapped into my inner child, referring to it as our “black heart”, and turned to drawing, journaling, and writing letters to my dad. Heart palpitations and constant tears became a daily reality as my emotions fluctuated wildly. Through this tumult, I realized I wasn’t grieving his death but rather mourning the relationship I wished we had shared.
Holding my own Memorial Service
Opting out of attending the funeral service, I watched it online for a sense of secure distance. Instead, I hosted a personal memorial with my supportive spouse and a gathering of stuffed animals. I shared my reflections on my father, immersed myself in nature, played music, and ate his favorite dessert of carrot cake and ice cream.
Leaning on Supportive Others
I found solace in a friend who, like me, had lost an estranged parent. Our bond became my lifeline, a safe space where I could openly express my emotions without fear of judgment or empty advice. Every Saturday morning I call her, listening and supporting each other. This friendship is priceless to me.
Respecting my Unique Journey
Every so often, I read my dad’s books, finding comfort in his words. Yet, there are times when I can’t bear to even glance at them, shelving them away. Sometimes I sit by his grave and find solace, yet later dread the thought of revisiting. Occasionally I take out his photograph, only to tuck it away again in a drawer. I’ve come to realize that grieving isn’t a straightforward process. It’s a unique rollercoaster journey, with its own twists and turns.
Appreciation and Reflection
My father’s sudden passing has taught me of the fragility of life, reminding me that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I now treasure each day and value my relationships more deeply. I’ve come to understand that grief work is an ongoing process, never truly finished. Sometimes I catch echoes of my father in things he loved, like Emily Dickinson’s poems or the arrival of autumn. In those moments I wonder: does he see me? Is there regret? Does he still love me?
