It’s been 7 months since my father suddenly passed away.
I’ve heard all the platitudes. "You were so lucky to have him so long." "He lived a long, wonderful life." "You're so lucky he didn't suffer.”
I know I’m one of the lucky few that had a Dad that was just two weeks shy from turning 96. He was still working as an attorney, had all his marbles and never liked to miss a gym appointment. I’m also fortunate that he didn’t go through a long debilitating illness or dementia.
He lived a long, amazing life, was well known and loved in his community for his generosity and wisdom and had a family that revered him.
Still, none of that seemed to matter on November 11th, 2023. The length of time doesn’t matter when someone you have always had is no longer physically there and you’re left behind, untethered.
Grief is a universal concept. I’ve had friends lose a parent at very young ages or had to care for a parent through extremely difficult situations. But as I listen to so many stories from others that identify with loss, it seems that grief is an inescapable piece of life that we all seem to be destined to run into at some point.
Everyone that has experienced their own cloud of grief, must feel some of the things that I feel. I get a fresh wave when certain memories pop up.
The moment when I realized I don’t need to “check in” with my Dad by text or a phone call just to see how the day went.
The realization that he will not be at the weekly Tuesday family breakfast that he organized.
The man who gave me daily business advice whether I wanted it or not is no longer advising. (That’s been a hard one)
The realization, that my own father was my attorney and I guess I now need one.
Thanksgiving, Father’s Day, his Birthday.
The way he shook his head and smiled when I explained my next crazy adventure.
Talking about and planning family vacations and ‘Ask Zadie’ dinners.
Knowing that he won’t meet his future great grandchildren, won’t be here physically to see his grandchildren grow and change including my own son who adored him.
The heartache of knowing his children were not there in his last moments.
All of these things (and more) seem to be stuck in my throat most days. I know time heals and I have been so fortunate to have lived so long without experiencing this kind of deep seeded sadness. However, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s here now and it’s holding on tight.
I am grateful that this was a man so loved that his absence has me in a tailspin. I am thankful that he knew how we all felt about him. I am grateful for all the wisdom he passed on to me and my two brothers.
I am eternal optimist. The woman who sees the glass overflowing. But grief sucks and I’m just going to go with it for awhile.
I miss you, Dad.
XO