Grief Feels Good

I lost my dad today, and it hurts. The pain is what one would expect to feel when losing a parent, and that’s why it feels so good. Those who are closest to me and my brother know our dad struggled as a life-long alcoholic. Our whole lives we had prepared for the fact that we’d most likely lose our dad at a relatively young age. There were many many times we thought we were going to lose him due to incidences directly related to his alcoholism. At those times, we felt sadness and pain somewhat similar to what we feel now, but at those times our sadness and pain was also fueled by a sense bitterness and resentment. At this time though, there no bitterness, no resentment, no regret…just love. Dad had a major relapse almost two years ago, just as Justin and I were making our move from Washington to Arizona. We were very lucky not to lose him then, but his health had been in a steady decline ever since. He had suffered liver failure, which was mostly under control with the help of medication, but other health issues arose over the past year and a half that his body was no longer equipped to handle. He had a loving girlfriend who cared for him for well over a year, allowing him the best possible quality of life that he could have before ultimately needing hospitalization followed by the last month or so of his life spent in a care home. For almost two years, we haven’t had to live each day wondering, “Is Dad drinking again?” Though we were constantly concerned about his health, it was such a relief to not have this thought running through our minds at all times. This past year and a half allowed us the opportunity to think less about Dad the Alcoholic, and more about him as just Dad. Other times when we thought we’d lose our dad, we ached with anger for the choices he had made and the fact that, yet again, he let his disease get the best of him. Now, it is a true luxury not to have those feelings. That’s why the grief feels so good, because we just miss our dad. The man who picked me up from school every Tuesday in kindergarten and took me to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal. The man who loved taking us to the park to feed the ducks, from the time we were little kids to even more recent times as adults. The man who had a resounding sense of humor with a laugh that could be heard above all others in a movie theater. The man who was scared to death when he first took me out for a driving lesson, yet he didn’t blink an eye the first time he flew with his son piloting an airplane. The man who had the greatest time of his life when he made trips to Washington to visit his kids, and believed his son’s apartment near the Space Needle came straight out of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” The man who was immensely proud of his kids, and viewed us as the greatest of his life’s accomplishments. Our dad was far from perfect. We were always “cautiously close” with him, keeping a safe distance which allowed us to maintain a good relationship without ever letting his life choices get the best of our own well-being. I think Dad understood that, and truly respected us for the way we chose to live our lives. Living so far away may not have allowed us a large quantity of time, but every moment we spent together was certainly quality time. Those times were always filled with numerous “I love you’s” and “I am just so proud of you guys!” For anyone who has ever questioned how Drew and I managed to become the people we are despite having an alcoholic father, it’s because of love. Losing a parent is never easy. It’s hard. It hurts. And for that pain, I am very grateful. Because that means there was love.