So there I was, in the middle of a restaurant, crying on the shoulder of a dear friend who also lost her father to suicide. I just love when grief hits at the most unexpected time (insert sarcastic emoji here). I have to say, it has been years since I’ve found myself crying in the middle of a public place. This December will mark seven years since my dad took his life. I have found a great deal of healing on my journey. Of course I still miss him, but the pain of his suicide doesn’t carry the same weight that it once did. As a society, we hold this belief that in order to move forward we need to no longer feel the pain. Well, I will be the first to tell you that this couldn’t be further from the truth. Here’s the thing about grief; it doesn’t end, it just becomes less present in daily life. Grief is what brought me to tears that night, in the middle of the restaurant, nearly seven years after my dad’s death.
I am a hugger. Not one of those half hearted huggers. I am talking like full blown bear hug, where it takes a minute for me to let go. I have always thought that it was just who I am. But what I have recently realized is that I am a hugger because of my dad. My dad was far from a perfect man, but when he hugged me, everything around me would instantly change. The world felt safer, and I felt loved (you can see this in the picture above which was taken on my wedding day). One of my favorite places in this world, was in his arms. Yet, it took me seven years to not only identify but understand what power his hugs had over me. Insert uncomfortable public crying scene here. And just like that, the pain of his death came rolling in like a tidal wive, wiping out anything and everything in its path. I allowed the pain to overcome me, knowing that trying to push it away would only make it bigger and stronger. Here’s what the pain made me realize:
- Sometimes we have to lose something to understand its power. One thing that has been difficult for me to reconcile with is the notion that I never knew how powerful his hugs were until they were taken away. I have a great deal of gratitude for what those hugs gave me in the years that I called him, “Dad.”
- Just because he isn’t here, doesn’t mean that I can’t continue to feel the power of his hugs. This was difficult for me, as I would experience a great deal of pain when I closed my eyes and thought about how desperately I wanted him to be here to hug me. What I realized is that my focus was on his absence instead of his presence. When I shifted my focus, I could feel him. I could feel his arms around me, reminding me that I am loved. Is it the same? Of course not. But the comfort it provides is truly remarkable.
- Grief is a part of the journey. It may not always have the power it has in the present, but it is always there. I spent a long time running from it, which led to a lot more pain. I embrace the pain now. For it has taught me more about myself than anything else.
- Don’t be afraid to cry! Tears aren’t a sign of weakness, they are a sign of strength. Even if they come out in a restaurant on your friend’s shoulder.
People ask me all the time how they can get to where I am at today. I wanted to share my own personal experience with pain to help everyone understand that the pain doesn’t end; it just becomes a part of your story.
This post is perfect in every way. Thank you!
I had a conversation with my husband about two weeks ago where I was complaining that every person I work with has seen me cry about the deaths of my grandfather and uncle. That tidal wave of emotion has a way of breaking through, no matter the barriers you attempt to put into place. Those moments render you completely vulnerable, which is terrifying when you long for some type of control.