5 things I’ve learned about grief

This is my dad. He adopted me when I was 8, and this photo captures my adoration. We’re on a lake vacation, I’m wearing a World’s Fair visor, and we have flowers behind our ears.

Today I’m on another lake vacation. My sons and their friends wake up early to go fishing. I walk down to the dock to capture a video of them leaving on the boat. It was my dad’s boat. Then I open my calendar app and check the date. It’s been six years since my dad died of cancer, at 61.

It’s surreal to see my oldest son, who’s now 16, driving that boat.

Grief creates a distortion of time. It makes you feel fuzzy, upside down, in a daze.

My dad was adored by many. And I know he loved me. But when he and my mom split when I was 13, he kept himself emotionally and physically at a distance. He was there, but he pulled away from me just enough to make it confusing.

I will never understand why. Now that I’m older with a family of my own, I know that it probably had very little, probably nothing, to do with me.

What grief has taught me along the way:

You can grieve and long for people who are still alive.

Sometimes when people are gone, you can feel them everywhere.

When it comes to loving people, I’ve learned to not hold back out of fear of rejection. I send the text. I make the phone call. I say the words. There’s a straight line to my love.

I’ve also learned to have compassion for the pain and burdens people carry.

For most of my life I wondered if my dad knew how much I loved him. I think my dad is free now, and he sees us, and he knows. He always knew.

If you’re grieving the loss of someone, someone alive or gone from this world, I see you.

Grief only wants to be seen, acknowledged, and felt. Then it works with you to help you move forward. Love and sadness and peace can coexist.