My Journey Through Grief: Part Two

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the is water calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” ~Vikki Harrison

It has been six months since my dad died. Yet, it feels like only yesterday…

Yesterday, I attended a Celebration of Life event the local Hospice had put together for the patients they have lost this past year. They had a line strung up with clothes pins where you could place a photo of your loved one. I had chosen a picture of my dad in his suit standing in front of one of his old cars (see below). This is a happy memory I hope to hold on to for the rest of my life.

In the picture, we had just got through attending a family reunion. As we were leaving, I asked dad to pull over so I could get a picture of him. I am not sure exactly what possessed me to do this, but I am so glad I did. After this, we drove around where he grew up and he told me stories about his childhood. Life just seemed so good for us both. Little did we know, he would be diagnosed with cancer less than a month later.

I have not really been able to look at pictures of dad since he died. It just causes too much pain. However, yesterday I wanted to look at that picture while it hung on the line. I wanted to study his face, remember that day, and remember him healthy. One of the hardest struggles has been to remember him well instead of how he looked when he died. I stood there and studied that picture for what seemed like eternity. Taking in the scenery and soaking in the memory.

The event was comprised of music and words of inspiration. They even had a table set up with pamphlets on grief. I decided to take a few of them and have been slowly reading them. The manager got up and told us when they get a new patient they place a leaf on a tree in the office with their name on it, and when they die they place it on the ground to symbolize a fallen leaf. Then, they proceeded to call out all the names of the deceased, and presented the families with a beautiful ornament. It was a touching gesture.

After the event ended I was able to talk to some of the people that had taken care of my dad in his darkest time. One particular nurse, Carrie, I had only dealt with once. That one time was the night my father died. I asked her if she remembered me and she said yes, but did not know if I would remember her. I told her I did, and that I have thought of her often since that night. She was the brightest light in my darkest moment. After hugging and crying together, I realized I had touched her life as much as she had touched mine.

I miss my dad more than words could ever describe. He was my first love and my first heartbreak. There will never be anything that can fill the void his loss has left in heart. Yet, yesterday’s event taught me that there is life after death. I will let my father’s memory live though me.