1. Time Does Not Heal All Wounds
I think time has changed my relationship with grief. I don’t wake up crying and fall asleep crying every single night anymore. I only cry three days a week during my almost hour work commute, instead of five days. That initial debilitating chokehold of grief I experienced for the first several months seems less in its intensity most times now. I can breathe a little bit. But even in the slight relief it’s still the worst of pain. The loss of my dad, the hole in my heart, it is a wound no amount of time can heal.
2. Every happy, milestone moment for the rest of my life will always be more than just a little bit sad. Holidays, birthdays, work promotions, weddings, mastering the perfect omelet flip, the list goes on and on… these are just some of the moments I’ve never imagined without my dad. I don’t know how to imagine them anymore. While future plans and goals give me a sense of hope – it is immediately followed by that gut punch feeling, when I remember it will all happen without him. Sooo, yeah. I’m in a place now where I am being intentional to create moments to look forward to for my own sanity. But I am also familiar enough in my grief to know that those happy, milestone moments will always be more than just a little bit sad.
3. Everyone is entitled to deal with grief in their own ways, even moms.
Family dynamics get weird after death. When my dad died I think I placed a lot of unfair expectations on my mom. I was angry with her for not ‘stepping up’ in the way my dad always had. I was angry with her because I felt unsupported while grieving. It took some time to recognize what felt like her being distant was just her trying to manage her own individual grief. My anger was misplaced, my anger wasn’t really anger. It was unbelievable sadness, devastation. It was a desperate longing to feel the love, the comfort and the safety my dad always made me feel.
4. What the fuck am I even doing?
I ask myself that A LOT since my dad’s death. He died five days before my 29th birthday. One of my biggest struggles has been trying to figure out who I am as a person now that he isn’t here. Overnight I felt the pressure to become a “real” adult. So much of the time I felt incompetent in every decision I had to make; decisions we’d always made together. For months and months I was winging it and convinced myself I was just fucking up. I have now opted to settle into the fact that my dad has fully equipped me to be successful in life. I’m not fucking up (most days). I’ve got this. He had all the faith in the world in me. I think I owe myself a little of that faith.
5. Find the things that help
Talking about my dad or how I’m feeling. Specifically curated playlists for my fluctuating griefy moods. Therapy. Kind words and support from loved ones, even strangers. Alpaca farms. Journaling. Crying uncontrollably. Double scoops of ice cream. Re-watching the entire series of New Girl. Socializing. Reading books and research around experiences of grief. Alone time. Celebrating or scheduling activities that remind me of him on anniversaries. Dead dad memes. Online grief community. Sometimes nothing helps. Sometimes some things help. Over the last year and a half I’ve found these things can be helpful. It’s important to find the things.
You can follow Ajarae on Instagram, @ajarae and @grief.outloud
