The moment my father died was one of those indelible moments, the kind that stays with you. What I knew at that moment was emotional pain so searing that it doubled me over with its intensity and then made me feel so completely exhausted, so utterly drained that I could barely keep my eyes open.
At that moment I knew in a visceral, gut-wrenching way that my life had just been unalterably and fundamentally changed.
But, there were many, many things I did not realize, in that moment.
The things I didn’t realize when dad died
I didn’t realize how the ripple effect would reshape my relationship with my mother, how my children would never truly get to know the father I loved so dearly, and how the entire dynamic between two loving parents and grandparents would be turned upside down.
I didn’t realize that I would always thirst for dad’s approval, even in his absence, which is ironic because the bar to earning his approval was preposterously low. Merely existing seemed sufficient, yet it is his approbation that I continue to chase.
I didn’t realize that I would yearn for and be blessed with a third child
I didn’t realize that I would yearn for and be blessed with a third child, his grandfather’s namesake, who would bear an almost startling likeness in appearance and personality to his late grandfather. That although that child would bring me overwhelming comfort and joy, he would not stand in my father’s stead. A simple truth that perhaps I had not yet fully realized was that people are not fungible.
I didn’t realize that some people leave us with a void that can never be filled. Many well-meaning people assured me that it gets easier, and they were right, but they failed to tell me that I would never stop yearning to have him back for one day, one hour, even one minute. The presence of someone new to love does not fill the void left by someone you once loved.
I didn’t realize that the waves of sorrow that initially brought me to my knees would become far less frequent and much more gentle as they washed over me.
I didn’t realize how long it would take to feel “normal” again
I didn’t realize that I would eventually string together so many days of being fine with the new reality that those good days would gradually stretch into months and then years.
I didn’t realize that I would one day be able to celebrate the joy of having loved him and having been loved by him with a smile, without a single tear. But like a cloudburst on a sunny day, seemingly out of nowhere, sometimes the tears would still come.
I didn’t realize any of these things on the day my father died, but on that day, in that moment, I knew that I already missed him.
I still do. I always will. Forever.
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