I lost my Dad to cancer around 8 months ago. At 26 years old, losing a parent feels different to what I’ve understood grief to be.
Sometimes grieving is really just being “okay” for a little while and then all of a sudden you’ll be blasted with a memory that makes you crumble. Not even a memory that had much significance, but just a reminder that they are no longer here, you can’t talk to them, text them, call them. They have left a gigantic hole in your life that won’t ever be filled. You get flashbacks of them during the worst of times and you try so hard to think of them when everything was okay but it is hard. Sometimes I just want to wallow in the sadness and grief, sometimes it’s too consuming that I wish it to go away but it won’t.
Life still keeps going even if you wish it could stop for you. It will seem like people around you forgot you even lost someone, they don’t ask about them or check if you’re okay because some time has passed, but you’re still grieving. Time does not make you forget them, it only reminds you that you will keep living on without them.
I won’t get to have my Dad walk down the aisle with me. My Dad won’t see the person I have become, who he greatly impacted in so many positive ways. He won’t get to see me when I turn 30, or 40, or 50. He will miss so many important moments in my life and I will miss his presence in every single one. He won’t know that I’ve just renovated my bathroom, or that I’ve just gotten a pay rise at my job. He doesn’t know that I’ve got a dog now.
What I do have is my family, my mum, sister, brother who I know all feel the same. But they got the experiences with him I wish I could have had. But they’ll always remind me that no matter how alone I feel, they’re right there with me. I have my fiancée, who always seems to know if I’m not okay and doesn’t try to make it better, but validates my grief when it rears it’s head at 6pm on a normal Tuesday evening. I have friends who consistently showed up for me when I needed it most, and who still show up for me now, 8 months down the line.
Wow, 8 months. It feels like such a long time but no time at all. Some days it feels like I’m still there processing his death, some days it feels like years have passed. No matter what, I won’t stop missing my Dad. I won’t stop grieving him, or loving him or wishing I could’ve had more than 26 years with him. I’ll be okay, of course I will but I won’t ever be the same.
