Becoming a Parent... After Losing a Parent

Today’s my dad’s birthday. He would have been turning 58 years old… but life had different plans when his birthdays stopped at 55. I normally don’t talk about my dad. It’s not an easy subject for me so I tend to suppress it and not put too much focus on it. Not because I don’t miss my dad. I do. It’s just a box of emotions that I’m not ready to unpack yet.

But now that I’ve become a parent, I’ve started thinking about my dad more and more. Some thoughts are sad, some happy, some even angry. It’s really, really not fair to lose a parent young.

I read an article from Fatherly recently that scientists have determined losing a parent not only changes your brain chemistry, but could also effect you physically. The study states that long-term grief, especially unresolved grief, puts you at a higher risk of future health problems and long term mental health disorders. Scary, huh?

A lot of the article shared some of the extremes that come with grieving that didn’t really apply to me, but one section really stuck with me:

“Ross Grossman, a licensed therapist who specializes in adult grief, has identified several ‘main distorted thoughts’ that infect our minds when we face adversity. Two of the most prominent are ‘I should be perfect’ and ‘they should have treated me better’ — and they tug in opposite directions. ‘These distorted thoughts can easily arise in the wake of a loved one’s death,’ Grossman says.”

Grossman continues by saying both of these competing thoughts ultimately lead to feelings of anger, resentment, guilt, and shame. And the reason we feel this way is because we’ll never know what could have been. “The possibility has died along with the person.”

After reading that, I felt like the article was speaking to me. I wasn’t wrong to feel this way and knowing it was 100% normal gave me such relief.

I’m sad that my dad will never know his granddaughter. I’m even sadder that my daughter will never know him. But most of all, I’m angry. And that’s ok. I know there are many things about my dad that I need to accept… many of which will probably have to happen in therapy, let’s be real… but this is one I probably never will. And again, I think that’s ok.

I’ll do my best to help my daughter know who her grandfather was. I’ll tell her that the reason I sing “My Girl” to her is because of him. I’ll tell her that the hair she was born with reminds me of his and it makes me happy every time I run my hands through it (and I secretly hope it sticks). I’ll tell her how I always thought the reason she’s a girl is because my dad asked God to make her one (even though I’m not even that religious, that vision has been in my head since the day we found out). I’ll tell her that the reason I pretend to “bite” her is because he did that to me when I was little. And I’m sure there will many more things I will tell her as time goes on.

Until then, I’ll just soak up the pieces I have left of him and the ones that carry on through her.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

-J