They Call Me Dad

Sometimes I’ve wondered if this feeling will ever go away. Like maybe I’d wake up and no longer feel this thing we call grief. I used to hope for that, but now I’m glad that there is no end date to grief. My grief is tied to my son, it’s my memory of him. It’s my connection to him. It’s a reminder that he was and is mine. My boy. My son. ... My grief has changed over the years. It’s become more of a companion now. It has its difficult moments, and also moments of joy. Those times I sit around the supper table and we talk about what he would have been like if he was sitting there today. My grief will always continue until I’m gone. Because that is mine to keep.

What is it about the stoicism of men? No tears - get back to work. Shove those feelings down, don’t let them surface again. Never let them see you in pain. I used to think that this was courage. The courage of a man was shown by not being impacted by the suffering around him and within him. I’m seeing things different over the past four years. It takes courage to feel all the feels. It takes courage to shed those tears, especially when there are others around. It takes courage to sit with the pain and suffering. Show me a man that is willing to do that for themselves and others, and I’ll show you a man that is incredibly courageous.

I remember the first time I laughed after we lost our son. I felt extremely guilty. Then it happened againand again. How can I be so sad and yet experience moments of joy? As time went on, some of the most joyous times were gentle reminders that there was a person missing. And there is the intersection between grief and joy. They can exist at the exact same time.

This morning I had the opportunity to talk about grief and loss over at Mount Salem Community Church. Take a look!

How are you all doing? A little update for you: