Dad's been gone since 2020. I'm still learning from him.This helps me worry less about my own parenting.
THANK YOU for your wonderful response my last newsletter about “functional old lady” fitness. Such great conversation! We are SO in this together!! And, of course, I loved having a reason to talk about Dad. It’s been six years since he died. I struggle to describe those grief-black years without using words like shattered or obliterated. Recovery was agonizingly glacial and it ground to a halt during the pandemic years. But now, as I look around my life, I can finally say I made it through. I wouldn’t call myself healed; more like reforged. I’m stronger and less afraid. I know more and less, both of which are good. Am I happier? Yes, I believe I am, but happiness no longer feels sparkly and effervescent. It feels more like gratitude. Grief will always be with me, but it no longer consumes me. I can look back over its arc and see how far I’ve come. There’s irony in that, however: over time the pain has lessened but so has my proximity to life with Dad, which is its own heartbreak.
Since that last newsletter — perhaps because of it — I’ve stumbled onto a paradox. Grief moves in the opposite direction as well: Dad, now fixed in time, seems to get a little closer every year I grow older. It’s like our difference in age is a span of distance that gets smaller with each year that goes by. Dad’s wisdom glanced off me when I was younger, but it’s coming back around. Now that I’m older, it’s sticking. We all know the drill: kids ignore their parents’ advice till they’re old enough to be there themselves. It’s not like I’ve made an earth-shattering discovery. But knowing something and living something are entirely different things. If Dad were here he’d raise his eyebrows in a silent I told you so. The thing is, he’s not here, and yet his example still teaches me. I take great comfort in finding that our connection is made of sturdier stuff than memory. Dad’s wisdom doesn’t expire. It’s living and dynamic, and is here for me when I’m ready to receive it. Strangely, this puts me more at ease with my own parenting. I’m no longer as bothered when my kids leave behind the pearls of wisdom I try to shove into their pockets. We’re just playing out our parts in the timeless handoff between generations. I may never know which pearls they end up keeping, but at least I can trust they’ll still be there if and when my kids need them. ✹ 🗄️ RELATED READINGThese pieces originally appeared on my blog. I’ve linked to updated versions here and removed the supporter paywall. I wrote them in the days right after Dad died before the pandemic shut everything down (including me).
🔗 NOTES OF NOTE
I’m not crying! You’re crying! 🥹 Seriously, your warm response these last couple weeks cracked something open for me. I’m so grateful to share this space with you. 💞
Thanks for reading. If this post speaks to you, please pass it on to a friend, mention it on Notes or another social platform, or even just tap the ♡. Your participation is the best kind of support.
|
Wednesday, March 18, 2026
Dad's been gone since 2020. I'm still learning from him.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Disney's WWII Legacy, an Alamo Find, and a 60-Year-Old Gator
A new exhibition at the Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum explores how Walt Disney and his studio supported the U.S. war effort...
-
On Monday, Leon County Circuit Judge Angela Dempsey rejected Bear Warriors United's request for a temporary injunction to halt the s...
-
Four Ohio cities ranked in the nation's top 100 best cities for single people, according to a WalletHub survey that considered fact...
No comments:
Post a Comment