My Delayed Grief for my Dad.

It’s one of those writing days where I would give anything to call up my dad and run some things past him. My dad died in 2014, and because of Ronan, I couldn’t properly grieve for him because Ro consumed my grief. It’s only now that I am finally starting to process the loss of my father, and it cuts deep. Our relationship wasn’t always easy, but it was raw and honest. I hate that I lost so much precious time with him because I was hurting. He did his best, and he loved me more than anything. He was wickedly intelligent, creative, passionate, and a true non-conformist. I will forever be heartbroken at the way he left this earth, and I left so many words unsaid because I didn’t know he was fucking leaving.

I am fortunate to still have my mom with me, and she is my source of strength. I am filled with gratitude for her in countless ways, which I am currently capturing in my book. If you are blessed enough to still have your parents in your life, cherish them dearly. Of course, if they are toxic and harmful, cutting them off is a valid option, and I fully support that. I consider myself lucky to have had wonderful parents, although I didn’t always appreciate my dad until it was too late. Despite his inner turmoil, I deeply miss him.

4 responses to “My Delayed Grief for my Dad.”

  1. I had to zoom in on that photo because I thought it was you! You look so much like your mother.

  2. As someone who had to go no contact, I love and appreciate your healthy familial bonds. We need examples like your beautiful family to remind us that we don’t have to be broken and families can be safe spaces as we build our own. It does also mean the world that you chose to acknowledge situations like mine in the midst of that. Thank you. I look forward to your book.

    1. its sad when we acknowledge situations that arent what they seem.

  3. I lost my dad in 2014 as well. I’ll never get over him. Grief showed up on my doorstep one day, unwelcomed. It carried heavy baggage of the trauma and hell it was made of. It suddenly lived with me, rent free. Painted everything grey and sucked the color out of my world. Two faced with no personality. Sneaky, always hiding and ready to smack me in the face around every corner with it’s handful of reality. I pushed it stuff out into the garage, and I let it move in. There are no more corners for it to hide around, I broke down all the walls and it’s all open now. And every morning, I show that bitch my dad is still there, in the same coffee cup he drank from and his smell fills the room as I brew coffee and hear the country music that holds his words. Grief stays in the cold, she only gets in when I need to cry.

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