This post is a little different because I wrote literally what I was thinking at the time that the thought came to mind. In fact, you’ll notice that it was actually 2 Sundays ago that I started writing (I added this introduction later). I didn’t manage to write the whole thing in one day, but the period during which I was writing was a very difficult one emotionally, particularly because grief hits harder during this time. Today is actually the 4th anniversary since Dad’s passing. Despite the time that’s passed, I’m still waiting for the day when it’s meant to ‘get easier’. This text feels rather disjointed, but it has been very difficult to navigate my thoughts and feelings, especially to try and verbalise them. So I thought I’d leave them this way because they might actually be more relatable for someone going through something similar.
It’s Sunday afternoon. I’m in my room watching the start of the Monza Formula 1 race whilst reading a book about grief because just before the 4th anniversary of my father’s passing, the pain and heartbreak are still as prominent as ever. As the race is about to start, and I’m chatting with friends about how exciting I think it’s going to be, I realised that it must have been the Monza race I was watching with my dad up to 10 minutes before his aneurysm burst on 6th September 2020, literally in the same room that I’m in right now!
I was meant to be working on a completely different blog post, and I did say to myself, am I really going to write another post about Dad? It feels like this is getting old and a bit too repetitive, but honestly, the pain feels pretty much as fresh as it did a few weeks after we lost him. I still believe that him leaving this world was the best thing for him, because he would never have wanted to live a life where he wasn’t full of strength and energy. But it definitely wasn’t the best thing for me or my family. As I’m currently trying to take some big life-altering decisions (once again), I constantly find myself thinking about him and seeking his advice, and thinking… I’m sure that he’d be pushing me in this direction. But the reality is, would he? I’ll never actually know! I hope that I’m making the right choices for myself, but I also hope that they’re ones that my dad would be proud of.
OK, this is a bloody good race and incredibly distracting for me to try to continue writing! … And Ferrari won! Oh my god! The team hasn’t had a win like that in forever! Dad would have absolutely loved this one! Just to fill you in a little, I’ve been a Ferrari fan ever since I can remember. I remember sitting on the sofa with my dad watching these races, pretty much as a toddler! I loved red as a colour, and I’d want everything red (it might also explain my signature red hair, red lips and red nails nowadays), but it was always a love for Ferrari, and it all started with Dad. That’s what I watched as a little girl, F1 races, WWE wrestling, together with Night Rider, The A Team, Macgyver and Budspencer movies. I was a girlie girl, but it definitely wasn’t reflected in the TV shows I watched. I remember watching one particular race when my mum was pregnant with my brother and my father telling us ‘a secret’, that my brother would be called like ‘this driver’, pointing to the screen. He was referring to none other than the great Nigel Mansell. I’m not sure whether it was that he actually liked the driver and named my brother after him or whether they just liked the name. Watching a race with him right before I could never speak to him again made these races even more special to me. I can’t watch one without thinking of him nowadays.
Anyway… I mentioned reading a book about grief at the beginning of the post. This book is The AfterGrief – Finding a Way to Live After Loss, by Hope Edelman. I started this book a while ago but I can’t get myself to read more than a few pages at a time. It’s too heavy, and too difficult to deal with, although I feel that it would really help me if I manage to get through it. As I had the realisation about the Monza race 4 years ago, I was literally reading about the term ‘deathiversary’ and what people tend to do on the day that they lost a loved one. Officially on my father’s death certificate, that would be the 10th of September (today). To me it was and I think will always be the 6th. Just after my birthday passes and those weeks in which I lost my grandfather and dad approach, I feel I always start getting a bit more sensitive. The week around Dad’s anniversary my emotions do tend to get the better of me. From what I’m reading, this is very normal. I would love to find a way to improve on it though.
I can’t deny that I miss him terribly. Not only the advice I long for, but his hugs, the sound of his voice, the constant feeling of bursting to update him about the new challenges and opportunities that I’m encountering… I’m still waiting for the day when it will start to get a little easier to live with these feelings. I’m still not sure whether that day will ever come.
I managed to get through a few more pages of the book, and it talked about Cyclical Grief, which we experience around anniversaries or special days that remind us of the lost loved one; the Sneak Attacks and Resurrected Grief. No wonder it gets so difficult to move on, with all these different types of grief. Please note that I’m still only halfway through the book, so how many more types of grief are there?
I think sneak attacks are the most difficult to deal with because they can happen anywhere, at any time, and they don’t care whether you’re in the middle of a work meeting or someone’s wedding, for example, and don’t afford to burst into tears. Resurrected grief generally occurs when we experience another loss. Apparently, it can even be the loss of a pet but the grief returns as badly as when we lost that special person. Without getting into too much detail because that is a subject I choose not to share too much information about, I remember experiencing something similar with my separation, which was another major loss just 11 months after losing my father. I might have cried harder then, than during the week of my father’s passing. I imagine this is quite normal though. When the person dies, the instant reaction is shock, so that whole episode is somewhat of a blur. It’s only later that the realisation starts kicking in and we start truly missing our loved one, and then the pain hits hard, and it truly hits hard! Like someone stabbing your heart over and over again! But one paragraph in this book really caught my attention, as one of the people that the writer writes about said,
“‘Would it be unhealthy if, after forty-six years, I’m like this all the time?’ she continues. ‘Yes. That would be very unhealthy. But at the point this happened, I hadn’t had an experience like this for years. I’d had little mini ones, where once in a while I’d see something or read something or my kids would say something and I’d get a little lump in my throat. but not like this. Personally, I would never want to get to the point where I would never ever again encounter something like this that could make me have a reaction like that. I don’t want to spend 24/7 doing it, and I don’t even want to do it real frequently, but I never want to be so blasé about this that once in a while something couldn’t really touch me.’
Because maybe these arrows to the heart, and these deep pangs of longing, aren’t something that needs to be erased or fixed. Maybe we don’t need to heal ourselves out of them but instead to welcome them as evidence of our capacity to love with intensity and passion. Maybe this is part of what makes us human. and if so, why would we want to give that up.”
I can’t begin to explain how much this hit home, and the writer and her patient are absolutely right. There are days when I randomly think of Dad and feel guilty because I wouldn’t have thought of him consciously for a couple of days. So in reality, I don’t want this feeling to go away completely, because it does reflect my love for him. I do not want to be in pain all the time and I definitely want it to get easier, but I do want to keep getting these random memories of him. These moments also make us feel that little bit closer to our lost loved ones, and that’s a beautiful thing and something I truly embrace.
Grief is hard, very hard! But let’s be honest, how empty would we feel without it? And how would we learn to cherish and value what we have and what we’re at risk of losing at any given moment, without it? Unfortunately, it is truly an important part of life, so instead of fighting it, we need to learn how to accept it, live with it, embrace it, and become better and more loving people as a result of it. These are the conclusions I’m coming to as my eyes fill up with tears once again whilst I long to be hugged by Daddy and to dance one last dance with him, and share one last laugh.
I miss you Daddy, and you’ll always be in my heart. Nothing will ever change that. But perhaps I needed the distance from you to keep growing into the person that I’m becoming, to be more independent and try to think more freely (which is something I’m really struggling with right now). Given the choice, of course, I’d have you here with me every step of the way! But I’ve had to learn how to face all my struggles alone and fight my own battles, and I think that’s growth that I couldn’t have experienced with you by my side, because I was always sheltered and incredibly protected by your love! So I need to find the ‘good’ out of this awful situation, and that within itself is growth. You taught me soooo much when you were around me, but clearly, you’re teaching me so much more since you’ve been gone, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I love you Puppy! I can never stop loving you!
The Klutz Diaries 
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