Where the Science of Psychology Meets the Art of Being Human

Are We There Yet? Making Peace with the Ebbs and Flows of Losing My Dad (by Dr Jacqueline Baulch)

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Are We There Yet Making Peace with the Ebbs and Flows of Losing My Dad

My dad passed away when I was ten years old and when he was 37 years old. He died of a brain tumour. In late January this year it was 22 years since he died.

My grief around losing my dad has been complicated, deeply painful and at times, lonely. It’s a cliché, but like most people’s experience of grief, my process has been anything but linear.

It’s taken me most of my adult life to recognise how much I was affected by losing my dad. Partly because in my late teens and early twenties this truth was hidden beneath several layers of complex thoughts and feelings, that unknowingly blocked out my pain. Of course, it would be an oversimplification to say that all of my difficulties during this time were a consequence of my dad dying, but this experience certainly played a major role in me coping in the ways that I did.

Shame has also stopped me from acknowledging my grief for my dad. At different points I’ve felt weak and dramatic when I’ve acknowledged my sadness, to myself, or someone else. I have been scared that when I speak openly people might think that I “just want sympathy” or that I’m attention seeking (I’m even noticing both of these fears arise as I write this post). I have felt a strong external pressure to “move on” and “leave the past behind”. Eventually, that pressure also became internally driven. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t “get over” my dad dying.

What I’ve learned is that to let go of the past I first needed to surrender to it. I needed to give the past my full attention. This process has been a backwards and forwards one, and very slow. It’s happened, and is still happening, in the presence of trusted and supportive people.

For me, the most significant part of grieving my dad’s death has been allowing myself to feel all of the feelings that were buried down deep at the time of his illness and his passing. Allowing these emotions in as an adult has been debilitating at times. There have been moments when I have felt so drowned by sadness, fear, guilt, anger and shame that I have wondered if I would ever find a way out.

Finding a way through has been about developing compassion towards myself, and truly allowing the people who love me to support me.

Guilt is another emotion that has featured strongly in my grieving process. If you’ve ever lost someone you love, you may be familiar with the haunting, yet subtle sense of guilt that can accompany the grieving process.

I have vivid memories of myself as a little girl feeling guilty that I hadn’t said goodbye properly. That I hadn’t done enough to help my dad, and my mum. To save him. Soon after he died I felt guilty for not crying enough (and then guilty for crying too much). I felt terribly guilty for not missing him enough. For not thinking about him all the time. Up until recently, as an adult, a sneaking sense of guilt pervaded almost all of the happy moments in life. I felt guilty that I was young, healthy and alive.

Reflecting on and sometimes talking about all of these different types of guilt, why I felt them and what they meant, has helped me to move on from this insidious feeling. Now when I feel joy, love, peacefulness or gratitude, and guilt bubbles to the surface, I notice the feeling and try to expand around it. To allow it to be, rather than will it away. I hope that one day my guilt will fully dissolve, but who knows?

In the lead up to my dad’s anniversary this year I had the sense that my grief had somewhat lifted. My sadness remained, but it somehow felt quieter, more peaceful. For a few days prior, I even had a subtle (and somewhat strange) feeling of wanting to celebrate. Perhaps, I think, fuelled by the relief that came with no longer feeling weighed down and heavy with grief.

Then on the day of my dad’s anniversary, a whole bunch of other emotions came rolling in. Right on cue. I desperately wanted to hold onto the softer, lighter emotions that I had begun to feel, but no amount of trying could stop the anger, shock and sadness that I felt. It was an exhausting day. In part because I felt like the whole process was out of my control. Like some force outside of me was pulling the strings, so to speak.

I got through that day in the best way that I could though. It wasn’t perfect (and I guess that’s not the aim), but I felt grateful to wake the next day with a feeling that something had been “worked through” rather than pushed down, numbed out or denied.

Normally my family and I arrange native flowers for dad’s grave on the day of his anniversary, but this year a few days later, when I felt ready, I bought some flowers for my home instead. I’ve realised that the flowers belong here, with me.

 


About the Author: Dr Jacqueline Baulch

Dr Jacqueline Baulch is a Clinical Psychologist and the founder of Inner Melbourne Clinical Psychology. Jacqueline is passionate about shifting the “hush-hush” atmosphere surrounding mental illness, emotions and vulnerability. She believes honest and real conversations can spark hope and healing, and help us to feel less alone in this messy business of being human. Swing by Jacqueline’s website, Facebook and Instagram pages for practical, evidence-based tips and resources for improving your mental health, wellbeing and relationships. 

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8 Comments

Pam

Maybe the next anniversary will be a bit easier. I’m so sorry to hear how hard you are still grieving after all these years but I sure understand. I lost my Mom and my brother within six months of each other about six years ago, and to me, it was yesterday. And the guilt is part of it as well. What helps me is that I know they are still with me in spirit and that they loved me. I know neither one of them would like to know I carry guilt around, and for them I try to forgive myself and just enjoy remembering the times that were good. Parents have a way of loving us no matter what, and I’m sure your dad feels that way about you too. Thanks for sharing your story, it couldn’t have been easy for you.

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Jacqueline

Thanks for your kind words, Pam. I’m so sorry to hear that you lost your Mom and brother. That must have been so tough, having them both pass away so close together. I agree, it’s comforting to remember the good times and how much they loved us (and how much we loved them too). Wishing you all the best.

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Hazel

My goodness that could’ve been me writing that. My experience has been virtually identical. I have felt, and still often feel, all of the same emotions. Like you I’m getting somewhere closer to looking back with happiness. Thank you for your bravery in sharing this and I hope you continue to heal xx

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Jacqueline

Thanks for your lovely words, Hazel. I’m glad to hear that you feel like things are gradually shifting for you too. Wishing you all the best in healing from your experience as well, Hazel.

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GrannieKT

Thankyou for writing so honestly for us.
Like history and science, mechanisms and strategies for managing grief and stress should be subjects which are carefully built into every school curriculum….
they can be stowed in our
“life skills ” tool bag which we can access when needed.
Healthy grieving is a vital part of healthy living.

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Jacqueline

Yes, I couldn’t agree more GrannieKT – healthy grieving is a vital part of living. We all face grief at various points in our lives, and knowing how to take care of ourselves during these times isn’t always easy. How wonderful it would be if our school curriculums equipped people with a “life skills” tool bag. The world would be a different place! Thank you for commenting.

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Nubia

This sounds exactly like my story. My father died when I was 9 1/2 of a brain tumor. I am currently 38 years old finding that I miss my father more now at 38. People are always shocked by that. They feel I should have always missed my father the exact same way. They have no idea how grief works, and I am barely figuring out how non linear grief truly is. After almost 30 years my mind is making sense of those 3 years of seeing my father deteriorate before me due to his cancer. My family sometimes is shocked by the idea that I am barely making sense of this and continue to grieve. I feel as if everyone grieved and has moved on and I am still going back and forth between 9 1/2 years old and 38 years old. I was so happy to read this article and see just how much you get this process. Do you have any work on grief like this?

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Jacqueline

Gosh Nubia, we do have so much overlap in our experiences, don’t we? As you can tell from reading my article, I can very much relate to the loneliness and confusion that can come with moving back and forth between the time when you lost your father and your life now. At times I am at peace with this process and at other times I find myself fighting it, wishing I could speed up the process of “letting things go”. A turning point for me has been cultivating self compassion. It’s helped me to be a little softer and kinder towards myself. I hope you can find ways to do that too – to remember that you’re doing the best you can. Thanks so much for sharing your experience Nubia.

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