At some point in all of our lives, we lose someone incredibly dear to us. Loss is a sad part of life that we all have to deal with. We learn about the different stages of the grieving process: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. We imagine that these steps will be definable and will make sense as we deal with our pain. We know that we should be sad when the ones we love leave us, we know we might be angry that they're gone, and we think eventually we can accept the loss and move on. Unfortunately, grief doesn't fit in a nice little box.
When my dad passed away almost three years ago, I imagined that my pain would be something I could control. I could be sad when I let myself be sad. I wouldn't let myself be angry, because it wasn't going to help. I expected to make my way through the grieving process smoothly, because I'd never had any reason to believe otherwise.
I learned quickly that what I imagined was never going to happen. I was an absolute mess, because everything I thought I knew was wrong. If you've ever lost someone you love dearly, you know that it can be one of the most confusing and inexplicably difficult times in your life. Because the grieving process is incredibly slow, and it doesn't really happen in a nice neat order.
Even now, almost three years later, there are days when I am so unbelievably sad, for no real reason other than I heard a song I know my dad would have liked. Some days I'm so mad, at the disease that took him and at myself for letting my pain get the best of me. There are days where I don't even understand what I'm feeling. Other days, I'm really okay. I'm content in knowing that my dad loved me and would want me to live my life to the fullest.
It's a little ridiculous to assume our individual pain will fit into this broad mold, because everyone will experience grief differently. Even in my own family, we all have different emotions and coping methods.
And now I know that acceptance doesn't mean not being sad anymore. It doesn't mean I eventually won't miss my dad anymore. I know I'll always wish he was still here, because I'm always going to love him, and he's always going to be my dad. I may be 90 years old one day and still wish I could call him. And that's okay, because I'd prefer that over forgetting how important he was to me.
To those who have lost someone they love, stay strong, but don't ignore your feelings either. Don't be afraid to talk to people about your pain, because it will help you more than you know. Don't compare your grief to that of others, because it won't be the same. Your grief is yours and it's real and deserves to be felt. You will get through this, I promise.
