On Valentines Day 2/14/19

Hi Daddy,

I wrote this today, what do you think?

What it’s like to lose your Dad as a young adult.

1) Unless They’ve Also Lost a Parent as a Young Adult, They Suck.

If you lost your parent, and they got to live a healthy (or even unhealthy) life for a majority of your life, then you don’t get it, and I don’t want to hear that you “understand”, because you don’t.  To be more clear, if your parent passed away after living to be at least 70 OR you lost a parent after the age of 35, you don’t get it.

Your parent got to see you get married, have children, buy a house, pay off a loan, get a dream job, get a PhD, live out dreams, set and achieve goals, whatever it is/was.

My dad will never see my brother and I achieve ANY of those milestones. So, again, if you can check most of those items off of your list, then you don’t get it and I cannot relate to you.

Side note- the loss of your grandparent, cousin, uncle, cousins uncle’s grandparent, does not compare to the loss of a parent, unless that person was a parent figure to you.

2) Unless Your Loss was SUDDEN, Don't Say it's SUDDEN

I’m sorry, Michelle, but your Dad’s cancer does not qualify you to play the “I lost him suddenly” card, when the cause of death was the cancer he’s had on and off for his entire life.

No, Sam, your 93 year old dad’s death is not sudden either. He was 93. That’s called natural death.

But yes, Linda, your 60 year old mom falling over at Canasta, literally dropping dead, allows you into this horrible club. My dad was fine, and then he wasn’t. I spoke to him on the phone, and then suddenly there were 2.5 weeks holding on to hope. Never hearing his voice again; only getting a squeeze of the hand or some precious eye contact. We had 2 days to actually face the fact that all hope would be gone in the same amount of time.

That is sudden.

Loosing a parent sucks no matter what, but you cannot equate any of those scenarios above to each other. I am not down playing the loss of a parent at all. What bothers me is when people claim "they know how I feel" when they really don't. Not fully.

3) There Is “Support”

My background is in mental health and I knew that I needed to get myself a therapist ASAP. I also knew I needed to find a grief support group. I live right outside of Boston and figured I’d be able to find at least a group or two I could go to.

Guess how many grief support groups there are specifically for young adults? ZERO (unless your parent died of cancer or aids, you are SOL).
I am not joking when I say that I reached out to EVERY resource I could find, and every resource sent my way. Nothing panned out.
Plenty of groups for widows, and parents, and young children, but apparently young adults don’t lose people. As far as general grief groups go, see point 1 above.

I found one group, FINALLY, being hosted by two local “charitable” organizations I was familiar with through work. This was perfect. Geared towards young adults, happening soon, and so close to where I work! The bonus point being it kept me connected to the community I work in and with. After being charged a small fee, I was told the day before the first session that it was being cancelled. Why? Not enough people in the group….only had 5 signed up, and they couldn’t afford to pay the group leader. As a former professional therapist I can tell you that all you need is 3 for a successful group.

If your organization hosts galas where attendees pay upwards of $200 a plate, and you offer free baking lessons, religious courses, parenting classes, educational sessions, etc but require those most in need to pay a fee and then cancel on them? You need to check your priorities. Of course I expressed my frustrations, and was met with “we might offer it again in the spring”. Well, I needed you in October, not 6 months later. Also, I am no longer supporting these two organizations as I think it is DISGUSTING how they treated those in grief. I won’t tell you the names here, because I am trying to be professional, but feel free to ask...you know I won’t keep it to myself.

I joined a group that randomly came across my therapists desk one day. It was 6 weeks, online, and geared towards surviving the holidays. You bet I joined that group.It was awesome. I don’t think I would have made it without them. But now it’s over, and I’m still pissed.

4) But There Isn’t Any Support

No one ever knows what to do or say when there is a death, and yet death is something that has been around since the beginning of life. Everyone is different in what helps them, and I know that everyone sending messages at the beginning meant well and sent their thoughts with love. Please know that I took no offense to ANY sympathy notes and messages. They were all appreciated.

It’s the weeks and months after. Your life is normal, maybe you got a new car or started dating this guy, or maybe work sucks and you hate the gym. Who knows? Not me. My dad is still dead. Even my friends that have (unfortunately) been in this situation, were at a loss. I guess that's normal, too. People don't want to impose, or rush, or distract...or maybe it's still too painful for them. Maybe everyone feels that way. No one seems to know what to say or do.

My mom was getting attacked on all sides with meals, dinner invites, movie nights, friends wanting to join her and the dog for a walk, people randomly dropping in….she still is.

I tried to keep myself busy. I reached out to pretty much everyone. I would try to plan things in advance, but one can never tell if you will be able to get out of bed let alone go out for lunch weeks in advance. I did my best, scheduling and canceling when needed. To those I canceled on, thank you for understanding.

However, it is VERY hard to be your own social planner when you are crying on the floor every day and night. I felt completely alone.

There was one night I reached out to 18 peers that were within a 20-30 minute drive. The ones that did text back were already busy:
“Oh man, we JUST ordered take-out! Maybe next week?”

“I have SO MUCH reading to do!”
“I’m out with Emma and Felix, wanna join us? Maybe I can swing by after?”

A few suggested I get in my car (blurry eyes, snotty nose, hyperventilating) and come to their place. “I’m just grading papers! Come on over!”
"I would come over but I'm really tired"

EIGHTEEN PEERS that I considered close enough to be with me in one of my darkest hours, and not one of them could take the time to come to ME.

It was the nineteenth person I texted, not a peer, but an adult I look up to, that came to sit with me as I cried on the couch. She was in the middle of a class, but left immediately to help me. This woman hasn’t lost a parent yet. She just has compassion.

Up until this point, I was convinced it couldn’t be a generational thing. But maybe it is? Living outside of Boston I get it; no one wants to drive anywhere. But here is some advice, if you are a young adult and a friend calls or texts you in the middle of the night saying they don’t want to be alone and ask you to come over, you get in your fucking car and go. No excuses. WE ARE THE GENERATION THAT SHOULD KNOW THIS!

5) Don’t Tell Me What To Do, or How to Feel

I miss my Daddy every day. I didn’t realize that he was my “other half” until he was gone and I was incomplete. Worse than the worst heartbreak I had ever felt before. And I get it, I feel things really strongly even though I hate feelings. So if my grieving process is making YOU uncomfortable, imagine how it’s making ME feel.

I am not sure I will ever feel like “myself” again. In fact, I am pretty sure I won’t. Grieving my Dad will be a part of my life for the rest of my life, and that is just how it’s going to be.

Don’t tell me where I should be in my grieving “stages”, those are myth anyway. Don’t tell me what I should do differently. Maybe I tried it your way and found out it doesn’t work for me? Routine was my undoing. Going back to my “normal” was breaking me down. I went to Morocco, I felt free. It wasn’t enough. I had to take time off from work. It was my best decision. I spent this time working on myself. Therapy, Dr Appointments, the online group, meditation, spending time with family and friends, taking the time to just process on my own time, without any pressure or deadlines or expectations.

Everyone grieves differently. My Dad is my best friend, and probably one of the only people that truly “gets” me. We are cut from the same cloth, that much I know is true, and we can’t be sewn back together. So here I am, a tattered bit of cloth, probably an upside down American flag, doing my best in the wind.