Grief Is Hard

Grief is a dirty word. People only talk about it right after someone dies and even then it’s kept short and to the point. Everyone knows the stages of grief. But very few people talk about what it actually looks like. Everyone knows what denial is, but what does denial look like inside of grief? And anger. How does that play out? What about guilt? Relief? Excitement? Where do those factor in?

I’m no expert on grief, having experienced very few hard things in my life. I have however managed to get pretty good at honesty. So here goes.

My dad died 9 days ago. He was 54. I’ve cried once since. When I look at pictures of him I feel nothing. When I think about him all I can feel is a thick fog in my head. And it sucks. It sucks because I feel like a bad son. It sucks because I really do miss him. It sucks because he was my best friend.

Hugging Dad at my wedding last February

People ask me how I’m doing and I don’t know what to tell them. People don’t know how to handle it when you tell them that you don’t feel anything. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be sad though, so I tell them I’m okay and throw in a sad smile to let them know that I’m “grieving”. They understandingly nod their head and we both avoid an uncomfortable encounter.

But what if I’m not grieving. What if everything just feels a little bleaker? What if I can’t cry over him? What if I can’t remember what he was like before he got diagnosed? What if I never miss him? These are the thoughts that are really going through my head.

And I don’t have the answers. And quite frankly I don’t want the answers. I just want to be pissed. I want to be a victim and I want to be mad about it. I don’t want to have it together, but that means letting go of everything I’ve spent my whole life working for. So instead I try to keep busy and I keep anger hidden right under the surface.

I know I should talk to Jesus about it, but I don’t want to talk to Him right now. He took my Dad from me. And who wants to talk to someone like that.

I don’t know what stage of grief that puts me at, but it’s hard.

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