Adventures of the Traveling Grief Case

The beginning of my journaling about my father’s death

Journal Entry – July 11, 2017

My dad is dying.  He knows it.  I know it.  We are all slowly watching him decline.  It’s not easy.  In fact, I wonder if it’s easier when someone is suddenly gone as opposed to watching them slowly deteriorate.  I wonder how I will feel when he’s really not here anymore.  It makes me want to spend more time with him.  But when I’m there, sometimes he just doesn’t have much energy.  I was over there on Sunday and I watched as his tremors got worse.  I don’t want to see him deteriorate.  Doing less and less for himself.  He’s on oxygen now.  Hospice is coming in and they have him set up for morphine.  I don’t want to see this happen.   I don’t want to feel this way or think about losing him, but it’s in my head.  I just keep hearing the words, “My dad is dying” and I don’t know what to do except feel sad.  Cry.  It may not be happening right away, but it’s happening.

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Grief is a Process

Grief, like everything in life, is a process. The day my mom called to tell me hospice would be coming in on a weekly basis, all I heard were the words “my dad is dying”. I heard these words over and over in my head. One simple sentence. One thought. But what if that thought had been my biggest fear for so long? 

We all know our days are numbered. None of us actually know when our time is up. But when I heard those words in my head, the clock seemed to speed ahead. I felt time rushing by and I had no way to stop it. No control. 

When I wrote this journal entry, I didn’t know I would have another year with him. I was already wasting time on the fear of him being gone. Wasting precious moments and memories on something I couldn’t control. 

Writing as Therapy

For me, writing has always been a means of therapy.  I have been journaling for as long as I can remember. In fact, I still have my pink Cabbage Patch Kid diary from 3rd grade. Whether I was anxious or sorting through a problem, writing was there. It was a way to sort my feelings out. A way to put my emotions on paper in order to organize my thoughts. Here, I could separate rational from emotional. Not only was this a source of help mentally, but I’ve heard that writing actually helps release emotions out of the physical body. 

Just 6 weeks later, my journal entries turned into letters. 

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September 21st, 2018

Dear Dad,

It’s been 6 weeks since you left us physically and I still wonder when it will feel real.  It’s been almost 8 or 9 since you left us mentally. Some days I feel ok, but I never stop thinking about you.  It’s like my mind constantly says, “He’s gone” but I still haven’t processed it… 

    …and I think some days it scares me that life goes on as usual.  

That life can actually go on without you here.  That I can have happy moments.

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From Journaling to Writing Letters

The night I wrote one of my first letters to dad. I had no idea how beneficial these letters would be. Not for Dad of course, because he was already gone, but for me. 

In a letter to my dad on March 25th, 2019, just 6 months later, I wrote to him about how writing is, and always has been, my therapy. 

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March 25th, 2019 

Dear Dad, 

Another Monday night over. I’ve been wanting to write more. It really seems to help me feel better. It has always been my therapy. I’m kind of tired tonight. I want to get it together and get back to the gym and move but I’ve just been so tired lately. I can’t wait for spring. You know how depressing the end of winter in Rhode Island can be. No motivation. That cold achy feeling in your bones. All you want to do is crawl in bed and get under the warm covers.

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Only months later was I able to actually see my progress. I could see the ups and downs of my journey. The emotional roller coaster was right in front of me. On paper. As I read through these letters I came to a realization. I had written my way through grief! 

I know that grief never truly ends. It’s a process.  Part of that process may take place through talking out loud to a deceased loved one or visiting their grave site. For me, it’s writing.  These letters helped me not just feel more connected with my dad but also connect with myself and my emotions.

Signs

When I told my best friend about the letters I had been writing, she shared a story with me. She had gone to an event with a psychic who speaks to those who have passed and shares messages with their loved ones.  One woman in the crowd had been writing letters to her deceased mom. The psychic picked her from the crowd and told her, “I see you sitting on the couch writing.  Your mother says she got your letters and she’s read all of them.” Upon hearing this story, I immediately felt a chill down my spine.

You see, in grief, we are often looking for signs of loved ones.  Signs from beyond.  We need some kind of proof that they are still close by.  Answers to the questions that they can no longer provide. These are the stories that give us hope.  They lighten our heavy load. 

We all need something to believe in. I’m here to tell you that whether you write your deceased loved one a letter or speak to them out loud, it’s up to you. It’s your own journey with grief. Sharing stories is what keeps us connected. It keeps us going. It keeps our loved ones’ memories alive. I’m just here to share mine.