Learning grief without a guide: Lo’s story

Part I

_“The moment anyone met my dad, they were instantly friends. There was never a more welcoming human. His door was always open to everyone. Just, immediately, come inside. You want coffee? Beer? Wine? Join the party.

For someone so outgoing and fun-loving, however, he could also be a rock. I saw my dad cry three times in my entire life. The first was when his mom died. The second was at the end of A Christmas Carol, when Scrooge learned the true meaning of Christmas.

And then there was the time we visited my mom at her care home, just before her death. She’d had an aneurysm when I was eight and had been in care ever since. Over a decade at that point. When I think of my mom, I try to remember her as she was in my early childhood, when our family was picture-perfect. I remember how hard losing that was for me, and I can’t imagine how hard it was for my dad. Things were really traumatic for a long while. But my dad never let it show. He just stepped up and stayed strong. Until the day of that visit when I was 20 and the doctors told us it was time to say goodbye. I remember he grabbed my hand as soon as we got back to the car. ‘It really is just the two of us now,’ he said. Then he cried for the third time.

From my perspective, it had already been just the two of us for years. For most of my life, my dad was the true north on my compass. He was my parent, my best friend, everything. He wasn’t always the most hands-on parent, but he was always there, every single day. Everything I know about life I learned from watching him. But I never saw him truly grieve.

So, in December 2024, when I let myself into my dad’s house — concerned that he wasn’t answering his phone — and found him dead on the couch, I was lost. There had been no warning, no time to prepare. It was a sudden cardiac event. He was only 68.

Everyone showed up to my dad’s house that day. He would have loved it. I was there for nine hours, talking to the police, to the paramedics. They had so many questions, and I was such a mess. Every time, they’d look around and ask if there was someone else they should talk to. Is it just you?

Yeah, it’s just me. Learning grief without a guide.”

Part II

“When my mom died in 2013, I didn’t really process the loss. She had been sick for such a long time, it was like I’d already lost her long before. So, after her funeral, I told myself I was fine. I quickly went back to school and got on with my regular life.

But, when I lost my dad to a sudden cardiac event in 2024, all that unprocessed grief came back and slapped me in the face. Even though they died over a decade apart, it feels like I’m grieving the loss of both parents all at once. I’d always been good at sort of keeping a lid on my pain and emotions. That’s a trick I learned from my dad. When I lost him, the lid was blown clean off and I’m starting to wonder if I’m ever going to find it again. Or if I’m just living without a lid from here on out.

I get overwhelmed easily these days, especially when I think about the future, about all the things my mom and dad will miss out on. I’m not married yet. I don’t have kids yet. My parents will never be at my wedding. My kids will never meet their grandparents. I will never get to share my parents with anyone. And I’m an only child, so there’s not even anyone for me to remember them with. When I think of a funny thing my dad once did, there’s no one to turn to and say, hey, remember that time. All the memories of them survive in me alone, and that’s a terrifying responsibility.

Dealing with all this has made me realize how important it is to have my mental health in order. I’ve been seeing a therapist and getting a good sense of what I can handle as well as what behaviours and ways of thinking are serving me. I’ve been diagnosed now with anxiety, complex grief, and PTSD. It’s nice to have names for these things. It helps me approach the trauma I’ve been carrying ever since my mom first got sick. It helps me make room for my grief.

It’s been a little over a year now since my dad’s passing. With the loss of a parent, a year is not a very long time. I’m still in the thick of it. But I’m also not the person I was a year ago. Grief changes you, just as love changes you. Because grief is love. And, just as I will love my dad until my last breath, I will also be grieving until that same breath.”