I still think about you every day. I know time is supposed to heal all wounds, but it still hurts just as much. The ache lingers, and some days are worse than others. Today was one of those days.
We took the kids out for ice cream this evening, and it was the kind of perfect weather you loved—clear skies, a warm breeze. The kids were laughing, chasing each other around, and for a moment, everything felt like it should have been.
But then, out of nowhere, the thought hit me like a wave. I could see you there with us, sitting on that bench, the sun catching your smile as you played with the kids.
You would’ve loved every minute of it. You would’ve ordered the biggest ice cream, making a mess, and laughed it off like it was no big deal. I could hear your laugh in my head, and in that instant, I missed you more than I thought possible.
These moments sneak up on me. I can go days, even weeks, without feeling the full weight of it. But then a moment like this reminds me of how much you’re missing. And how much I’m missing you.
I wish you could have been there, not just in spirit but in person, making memories with your grandkids.
I wonder if this pain will ever truly fade. They say grief comes in waves, but no one ever tells you how hard the waves crash or how unexpected they are. Just when you think you’re managing, a memory pulls you under.
Grief has a way of sneaking into our lives in the quietest of moments. As a physician, I’ve learned that loss is a shared human experience, and yet, it’s one of the most isolating feelings we endure. When you lose someone, especially a parent, you feel as though a part of your identity has been taken away. For me, losing my father wasn’t just about losing someone I loved—it was losing the person who shaped so much of who I am today.
When you’re grieving, people often don’t know what to say or do. But there are a few things I’ve learned about how we can help others navigate this painful journey:
For me, moving forward hasn’t meant leaving the pain behind. It’s learning to carry it differently. Losing my father has changed me in ways I never imagined. Some days, I feel the pain more acutely than others.
But I’ve also learned that grief is a sign of the love that remains. My father’s absence is felt in the small, everyday moments, like an ice cream outing with my kids. And while that ache may never go away, I’ve come to realize it’s because he’s still a part of me.
If you’re reading this because you’re going through your own loss or you’re supporting someone who is, I hope you find comfort in knowing that grief, though painful, is not something we have to endure alone.
“Grief has its own timeline and a depth that words can’t always reach. As we navigate the loss of those we love, let’s honor their memory by allowing ourselves to heal in our own time. Embrace each memory, and know that finding peace is part of keeping them close.”
Disclaimer:
The information provided in this blog is for educational and informational purposes only. It is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified healthcare provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of content found on this blog.
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