On Grief at Christmas…

I’ve been seeing a lot of tweets on social media talking about how its a hard season for people and posting numbers for suicide prevention hotlines and other supports — which is all fantastic and great and I fully support them. But maybe you’re like me — you suffered a loss (for me it was my Dad dying unexpectedly) and you’re trying to make sense of this festive time where everyone is so happy while dealing with this immense weight of sadness and grief.

It’s been only 3 months since my Dad passed away unexpectedly and I wanted to share what my grief journey has looked like so far and hopefully it helps you navigate your own rough waters.

Grief is Not Linear, and its Not Pretty — But Its Necessary

When the police showed up to tell me Dad had passed away I didn’t cry. I really hadn’t understood what “shock” was until that moment — when you are told a terrible thing and your brain needs to respond but the event is so huge that you get overloaded and you go into emotional/functional lockdown. Should I call my Mom? Should I cry? What will I tell my kids? What happened to him? So many questions, so much information that’s missing.

There were many days that I seemed absolutley normal, and I felt absolutely normal. I laughed, I joked…I even shared humerous stories about my Dad’s cremation (anticlimatic moment — being asked if you want to start the incinerator, thinking its going to be this beautiful final moment where you send your father’s physical body from this earth, then being shown a mouse and which button on a computer screen to click). Is this grief? My Dad just died…shouldn’t I be in a cloud of depression and dispair all the time? Is something wrong with me?

There were many days (as recently as yesterday) where I ugly cried at random things that reminded me of Dad and that Dad is no longer here — a song, a photograph, a random memory, seeing a father and his child at the mall sharing a moment. Sometimes I search out grief triggers — music he listened to, pictures of us, movies and TV shows about family and fathers — not because I’m wallowing, but because I need to feel this loss to move through it. I need to embrace the fact Dad is no longer on this earth and that I’ll never be able to see him or talk to him or hug him again — and that is painful and terrible and sad. But its also necessary. I’ve gone through other different loss in life and what I learned from that is it changes you — hopefully for the better, possibly for the worse. I’ve also learned that if you meet things head on, embrace the pain, and approach it with an attitude of love there’s a greater chance of “for the better” to happen.

What this has shown me about grief is that its not linear — you don’t cry for a certain amount of days, then have a funeral, then somehow move on. Grief comes in waves, its like the ocean with its ebbs and flows. Do I think I’ll ever get to a point where I’m not sad about the loss of my Dad? No. I think over time the grief won’t be as pronounced or as painful, but why should we think that a lifelong relationship based on love shouldn’t resonate with us for the rest of our lives?

Its Ok to Share Your Grief

My knee-jerk reaction to when people ask me how I’m doing is “I’m ok.” But I’ve worked, and still work, very hard at not defaulting to that if its not true and with Dad’s death I embrace opportunities to be open and vulnerable with others. That can seem scary, but if good friends are offering their ear to listen you take it. If people that care about you are willing to share your burden, share your burden. I’ve openly told people how terrible the experience of losing a parent is, the feeling of being seperated from one of two people who secure us to our history and linneage, and the reality that we don’t fully become adults until the parental safety net of love and acceptance becomes frayed and broken. Heap on a good helping of questions on mortality and self-worth and this can seem heavy — but if people are asking, they’re also offering to help with your burden even if its just for a few minutes. Talking it through is important for us just as much as being able to help in some way is important for them.

Grief is Love That Has Nowhere To Go — So Find Somewhere to Send It

Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. — Jamie Anderson

I love this quote and I absoultely agree with it. Grief as the love you want to give, the hope you had in something, the longing for a connection that never happened. But where the quote ends, I would add one more line:

So find somewhere to send it.

Part of the grief process is redirecting that love, that energy, into something else that’s positive. That doesn’t mean something that brings joy, or happiness, or contentment (not that it couldn’t) — but something that redirects this pent up emotional energy we have into something positive for you, for society, for the world, whatever. Let me give you an example.

A few years back I was leaving a hockey game when I was attacked by a drunk fan. I got pushed to the ground and had a punch thrown at me, but didn’t recieve any physical damage. I went home and was demoralized — I was exposed as someone who couldn’t defend himself or his family from some form of physical assault; I was also shown how out of shape I was, how weak I was, and how unsavvy I was. I grieved the realization of my faults.So I took up a boxing class. I built up skills and confidence and I got healthier. I redirected the grief energy into something positive — not easy or enjoyable (those workouts were tough), but positive.

No, this isn’t the same as losing a parent or a loved one, but the concept still applies. With Dad, he had a heart for kids living on remote northern indigenous reserves. Now that he’s gone, how can I channel the love for Dad back into the things he loved and that he invested his life into? How can I make that a way to honour Dad while making a positive change? These are things I’m constantly thinking about as part of my grief process.

Grief Doesn’t Follow a Happily Ever After

I had a great relationship with Dad, but I realize some reading this may not be in that situation. You may be grieving any number of things that aren’t a loved one’s death:

• Ending a relationship
• Miscarriage
• Relative who wasn’t loving who died
• Death of a pet
• A life event that has caused you loss

What we all share, regardless of the specifics of our experiences, is personal loss. We greive losing something that meant so incredibly much to us, something so personal, something so foundational to who we are, that we are hurt emotionally and psychologically — sometimes even physically. There is no levels of grief, no grief hierarchy that says one life event is more greivous than another — it doesn’t work that way. What you’re going through is valid and real and you have every right to feel the way you do.

Christmas and Beyond

All days are hard when you’re grieving, but Christmas tends to be a key time for people. Many of us will have Christmas memories of whatever we lost, or maybe we’re mourning the loss of what Christmas could have been. It’s ok to feel whatever you feel over Christmas, or anytime.

I want to leave you with this: I am so sorry for whatever it is you’ve lost and for who or what you’re grieving; know that I grieve with you, and that there are people who share in your pain. Also know that you will get through this, as insurmountable as it feels right now, and you will channel your grief into something that will impact people in a positive way. You matter, your loss matters, and your emotions and grief are valid.

PS: Love you Dad.