Grief is something that no one is a stranger to. It’s just one of those intrinsic parts of life. It is simply because we know that our time is limited, that we need to remember how precious it is.
As someone who has lived abroad for so long, I have always been conscious of how much time I am missing out on with my family and my life back in Australia. The growing up of my nephews, the big life milestones of my family members, the wordless, seemingly-insignificant moments of quiet coffees in the morning, or trips to the grocery store with my mum. With the unexpected death of my father in February this year, it brought it all that much more into focus.
Our father passed away in February of this year, after many years of struggling with his health. While we knew that he was unwell, we certainly had not predicted him passing so soon. In the weeks leading up to it, my sister and I had spoken to him every day, taking turns to reach out, to compare notes on how he was doing, to strategise what we could do to help him. Being in the country, my sister visited him in person, while I could only call from abroad. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do. In the wake of his death, we are simply trying to move through the world and handle his affairs in the way that we would have wanted.
Throughout this grieving process (it’s been 6 months + 1 day since he passed), I’ve been thinking a lot about loss. The things that used to matter to me, just don’t. The things that used to wind me up to no end, simply don’t matter any more – or they certainly matter less. Even with professional help, I felt like there was something missing – this need to understand more, to rationalise more, to take a step back to understand what this loss has meant for me.
I’m still trying to figure that one out.
Dad passing away will have an effect for the rest of my life. I’ll never get to see him get well, or live happily. He will never watch me grow up, grow old, grow into myself. I will never hear his voice again, or smell his particular smell, or hear all of the stories that he never got time to tell us. The weight of that knowledge is immeasurable, and I truly don’t know how to hold all of that in my own head, let alone carry it.
For the time being, the rationale is to try and think about what lessons he did manage to pass on, and his attitude for doing the right thing; damn what other people do, or say, or think about it. I think that’s something that most of us could benefit from; forgoing the thoughts and opinions of people that do not really matter to us, or even if they do – sacrificing your own path to follow the expectations that others have set out for you.
