As I held the phone close, the sounds of the ICU echoed in my ears while my father hovered between life and death. I thought to myself, This is the hardest part. My heart had been bracing for this moment ever since my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer nine months earlier. Each setback from chemotherapy, every hospital visit, and the family gatherings we missed all led to this inevitable farewell. We all knew cancer would take him from us, and my children would lose their grandfather.
He was slipping away, and his suffering body would finally find peace. I was 1,600 miles away, feeling utterly powerless, only able to whisper my love through the phone as tears streamed down my face. When the nurse finally told me, “It’s over. He’s gone,” I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. My father was free from pain.
But while I thought the worst was behind me, my journey of grief was just beginning. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions, filled with agony, unexpected joy, and everything in between. Five years have passed since I last said goodbye to my dad, yet not a single day goes by without a reminder of my loss. Whether it’s a moment when I want to share a professional triumph with him or when I see his smile reflected in my son’s face, the ache of missing him is ever-present.
I’m not over my grief, and honestly, I don’t want to be. Grief isn’t a passing emotion like anger or sadness; it’s a constant companion. Some people claim grief is a “process,” but that implies a finish line—a point where you suddenly stop missing your loved one. That’s simply not how it works. My grief is here to stay, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop suggesting I should just get over it.
In truth, I’ve grown and evolved as a person since facing my father’s death. Grief has taught me to be a better friend to those who are going through similar losses. I now understand that doing laundry for a grieving friend means so much more than just dropping off a casserole. I know that funeral flowers are often tossed aside, so I show up with a bottle of wine instead.
It has also made me more compassionate toward strangers. I find it easier to give grace when someone is rude at the store or cuts me off in traffic; they might be dealing with their own grief, just like I did shortly after losing my father. I still remember the day I had an anxiety attack in a grocery store parking lot, abandoning my cart because I was crying too hard to continue. The man who yelled at me for leaving can go take a hike. Grief isn’t something we wear like a badge, announcing, “Be nice to me; I’m grieving.”
At PTA meetings, I’ve learned not to tilt my head and ask someone how they are doing if they’ve just lost a parent. Instead, I might say, “Death really sucks,” because it does, and I wish someone had been that direct with me in those early days. Grief has stripped away my social niceties and made me bolder in expressing what truly matters.
When my father passed away, I unwittingly joined a club I never wanted to be part of—the “I’ve Lost a Parent” club. Its members carry their pain bravely while juggling the responsibilities of raising kids and managing careers. We share a silent understanding, often greeting new members with, “Me too.” The friends who have shared their experiences and those who’ve refrained from judging my emotional outbursts have become my role models in providing support.
You won’t hear me say, “He’s better off” or “It was God’s plan” to someone grappling with their own grief. My experience has shown me that simply being present, allowing a friend to cry, and acknowledging their pain can make all the difference. Small acts of kindness—like taking care of carpool or delivering a hot meal—speak volumes during such difficult times. Grief has taught me that actions truly do convey more than words.
I didn’t invite grief into my life, and witnessing my father’s decline was heartbreaking. However, amidst the sorrow, I wouldn’t trade my grief for anything. It has been a gift, teaching me to experience deep, raw emotions and reminding me that my father’s memory is alive in my heart. With every tear shed, I feel him closer than ever.
So please, stop telling me to get over it. I don’t want to.
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Summary
Losing a parent is an indescribable pain that reshapes lives in unexpected ways. Grief is a lifelong journey rather than a finite process, and while it may be painful, it can also lead to personal growth, empathy, and deeper connections with others. Understanding and kindness in the face of loss are crucial, as is the acknowledgment that the emotional journey of grief never truly ends.