The Unspoken Parts of Loss: A Note to the Dead Dad Club on Jealousy, Guilt, and Love.

This is an extra post this week because I had it on my heart to speak to the dead dad club directly. As a long-time member, I know that there are times of year that just hurt a little differently. Father’s Day is absolutely one of those times for me.

Your loss may have happened at a different stage in life, one thing stays true for anyone that has lost a parent: you try to embody as many qualities of your person as possible to keep part of them alive in you.

As I’ve lived my life, I have seen different versions of myself show up on hard days like Father’s Day.

There are years where I spend time reflecting on happy memories, allowing myself to laugh and smile as I remember the absolute goofball my dad was. Fortunately, he had an amazing community of people who loved him dearly, and the stories of him are endless when I’m around them.

Then there are the tough parts. The jealousy of seeing others beautiful relationships with their fathers. Looking at all the memories actively being made as I cling to the ones I have, hoping to never lose a single detail. The sadness that takes over when reality closes in and I recognize that sometimes I cannot remember the sound of my dad’s voice or the way he smelled.

The worst parts are the questions I ask myself. The painful reality that slaps me in the face in the worst times, making me wonder, 'what would I be like if…'. Trust me there are not enough periods in the world to accurately depict the number of questions that come after that statement.

People say grief shows up in various ways, and if you’ve lost a parent or close loved one, you know this intimately. The feelings that make sense: sadness, loneliness, numbness, longing for your person…those are the feelings we know will show up and allow ourselves to connect with and access more readily.

No one prepares you for the anger, jealousy, confusion, anxiety, or whatever came to mind when you read the words “no one prepares you for.” Because how can you tell someone “No, I don’t want to hang out with your loving family because the relationship you have with your dad is too painful for me to witness today.” There is the anxiety that lingers throughout your life when you imagine the loss of a close person who stepped in now that your person is gone. Then there is the guilt. The overwhelming guilt you feel when grief takes over your day and you’re worried it impacts other people.

Grief can feel like being handed pieces of a puzzle for the rest of your life. Just when you think you've made sense of one part, another piece appears. And the truth is, you never wanted to be solving this puzzle to begin with.

I write to you today to tell you to let yourself feel it. Connect with grief as it shows up in real time. Pushing away the ugly parts never works. It doesn’t ease the pain that your person is gone and that everything feels unfair.

Avoiding it intensifies the hardest parts. The blockade you’ve built to hold your emotions may work for a moment, until it breaks. Then when it does, because it always does, everything you’ve been avoiding comes slamming into you all at once.

Make space to sit with grief. It’s ugly. Let it be ugly. Let the parts that you hide from the world be witnessed fully within you. Scream, cry, journal, run; whatever you need to do to connect with the feelings showing up for you. Because the shitty reality is all of that exists because of the love you had for your person, and no emotional experience will ever take that away from you.

A moment of acknowledgment for any readers who have made it this far and have a complicated relationship with their father: it is okay if love is not leading for you. The lesson still stands; let yourself feel.

My dad was my person. I’ve been told some of the most beautiful parts of who I am as a person remind people of my father, and that is something I hold very dear to me. He was a helper, and lover to his core. He is absolutely the reason I ended up as a psychologist.

Grief was the start of why I became a therapist. Though I will grieve a lot of things for the rest of my life, this was and will forever be the greatest heartbreak.

Sending so much love and healing to anyone grieving their person. Thanks for holding space for the emotions this brought up for you. I am honored to hold those with you through words.

-Erica