Losing My Father

Just when I thought I had fully processed and healed from the tragic death of my father almost 12 years ago, cue tonight's episode of This Is Us.

After months of alluding to Jack's death and showing teaser scenes of how it might've happened, the writers finally revealed all tonight. I knew he died by fire. I knew it was hard on his wife and kids. Still I wasn't prepared for the raw emotion that would wash over me like a torrent of rainfall.

I'm talking heaving sobs. It's the unexpected loss of the jovial soul that glues your family together. The not being able to say goodbye. The sheer shock of it all. I'm not putting grades on grief; death is death and losing a close loved one is tragic, no matter how it happens. But losing someone so suddenly, at such a young age, and with no chance to fully process it...it feels like you were cheated. Randall likened it to acute bursts of lightning that strike without warning.

Tonight's scenes had me sobbing and blowing my nose as it reopened the wounds of watching my father die within a day or so of even knowing he was sick. Turning off the machines and listening to the jarring beep of the heart monitor as it agonizingly slowed to silence. Hearing nothing in that room that had all of a sudden sucked all of the oxygen from even the living souls who kept a helpless vigil. 47 years young, and me a newly engaged 22-year old young woman. My sisters were only 19 and 15. My mom had never had to make it on her own. The death of my father was nothing short of brutal and to date, has been by far the worst thing I've ever lived through.

Twelve years later I find myself sobbing at a television show. You think you'll never recover. That life will never be the same. The former is a lie. The latter is truth. You will never be the same because that person's life can no longer dance and intermingle with yours. You'll always wonder what life would've been like if he had been here for your wedding. For your career failures and wins. For the birth of your children. What would he have thought of the election? What would he think of you? Would you be making him proud?

Eventually just breathing becomes easier and the pain in your chest is gone. Life begins to have color again and you find yourself smiling at memories instead of breaking down. But you're never immune to another bolt of lightning that might hit you out of nowhere. Eleven plus years later, when a television show captures the love of a father for his children, the love of children for their father, and the abrupt unfairness of this meandering journey we call life. 

Heartache is a mother effer. My chest feels split open wide and I had to slather myself with lavender just to feel sane again. But what good is a heart if it is not allowed to rehurt all over again? For on the other side of suffering is joy, and if you're cut open raw for one, there's a good chance you're a willing vessel to receive the good stuff too. Tomorrow I'm sure there will be joy. Some brightly hued sunset. A giggling baby. Some unexpected good news. As for tonight, I will sit with my grief and watch it wash over me and wait for that soothing calm that comes with the ebb and flow of ocean waves.