Adventures of the Traveling Grief Case

Writing My Way Through Grief

Dear Dad,

I wrote a book about you. Can you believe it? You probably can. You always said I was a good writer. I know, you would probably wonder why I wrote a book about you. You would say something like, “Who the hell would want to read about me?” But it wasn’t really about you as much as about me and my journey through grief. 

You see, when you passed away, I didn’t know what to do with all these overwhelming emotions. It was such a tough road for me. I wasn’t used to doing things without calling to get your opinion first. Like when I bought my first car without you. I was supposed to be all excited, but I was just miserable, and it made me miss you so much. 

It felt hard to do those things without you. But writing, that was always easy. 

When I missed you, I would write you a letter. When I had a vivid memory of you from childhood, I would write it about. I guess I was afraid that if I didn’t write about it, I might forget about you. I know that sounds silly, but memories fade and I wanted to keep them all somewhere safe. Even the little ones. Like going to get ice cream with you when I was little or having coffee and donuts on a Sunday morning. How you always smelled like sawdust and Budweiser. Or how you would stand in my bedroom doorway and say, “night punkin.” Even memories of you snoring away on the couch while the weather channel played on the tv for hours. I wanted to remember every single thing about you.

And maybe the world doesn’t need to know all these things about you. Maybe they don’t care about how you made the world’s best bacon or gave me ice cream and cold pizza for breakfast. But maybe they do. Maybe in reading my struggles and stories through grief they will see a glimpse of their dad or themselves. Maybe in reading my letters they will find connection and healing. Maybe they will write their own letters and essays when they are feeling sad. 

So even though you would think it’s silly that I wrote a whole book about you, I know that you would love to see all the good that could come from this. 

But Dad, I’m not going to do a book. Not yet anyways. I always get too overwhelmed at the thought, so I’m just going to share my stories. That’s really my purpose in all this anyways. I just want to help people that are struggling the way I did. 

I still miss you, but the grief isn’t so heavy anymore. These days I can find more laughter in your memory. I think more about your advice or things you used to say and I find myself sharing your sayings with other people. Even strangers. 

And I find more comfort in knowing that your memories are still with me no matter how much time has passed. I know you weren’t the perfect dad. You were human. You had your own struggles. But you were a giver. You liked to help people. So maybe in me sharing these stories you can find a way to continue to help people even though you’re not physically here.

Well, Dad. Here it goes! Wish me luck!

Love Always,

Elissa

When my dad passed away in 2018 I struggled with my grief. I started writing him letters to connect, not only with him, but with my emotions. I was going to put my collection of writing into a book but every time I tried to edit them I got overwhelmed. So a few weeks ago I came up with the idea of sharing these writings as blogs. It’s so much less overwhelming to go piece by piece. Little by little.

When I was working on putting it all together a friend of mine said maybe I didn’t want to finish it because that would mean I was done grieving. Maybe I wasn’t ready. But we all know that the journey with grief never truly ends.

In the coming weeks I want to share these stories and letters in hopes that someone can find comfort in them. That I can help someone who is feeling the way I did.

I write for me first. I write to heal. My hope is that in sharing my stories, I can help bring healing to others. So, feel free to join me in taking a glimpse through my past journey that brought me to where I am today. And if you feel called to do so, share your story with me.

As always, thanks for reading.

Ginger