Grief is an interesting thing. It’s kind of like that one annoying neighbor kid who comes around uninvited to your house, and pokes his nose in where he’s not wanted and when he’s not expected.
In thinking a little bit deeper about this, I actually don’t know if I can accurately compare it to a neighbor boy, mainly because even though it comes around when I’m not expecting it, and even though it hurts – sometimes a lot – it reminds me of how much love I have the capability to feel for a person.
It comes at any time, usually when I’m watching movies or listening to music, two things my dad loved that he passed along to me. The Spirit sometimes also whispers to me, reminding me of memories I have or emotions I’ve felt before.
Even though it’s been two and a half years since my dad died, I still experience grief in minor and sometimes major bursts. Something I’ve learned from the different experiences I’ve had, though, not only with my dad’s death, but from breakups or loved ones who’ve made wrong choices or even losing a small pet, is that grief shouldn’t be bottled up. I’ve experienced real physiological effects from holding emotions inside and masking them so that the rest of the world can’t see. My heart will physically hurt and I’ll get an incredible headache. It’s all I can think about and I end up holding onto it for a long time. Crying, sometimes full-on weeping, can be calming and therapeutic. Letting it all out helps me heal.
Grief is the emotion that will make the moment when I see my dad again even sweeter. Distance and longing make the heart grow fonder. I cry now, and I embrace it. Grief is a friend that accompanies rushes of memories, of good times, and of the love that family members share and I hope I never lose it.
On an Adventure 