My father passed away last Wednesday after a short battle with Parkinson’s disease. He was only in palliative care for less than a week before he died, having moved into an aged care facility just two months prior. His health deteriorated rapidly those last few days, and I said my goodbye on the Saturday before his passing. I even have a picture from this time.
Grief is complex and personal, touching each of us differently. The famous stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – were originally applied to those facing their own mortality, not grieving loved ones. Somehow that changed over time, and we now use those stages to understand mourning too. But it’s not so simple or linear. People oscillate between emotions, sometimes feeling several at once.
For me, there is acceptance of my father’s passing, mixed with relief his suffering is over. But there is no anger or depression yet, though it may come. Our relationship was complicated. He was not one for heartfelt talks or confiding emotions. We had little in common, divergent worldviews and interests. He was not my closest confidant; we struggled connecting on a deeper level.
Does that make him a bad father? No, just a product of his generation and life experiences. But it leaves me unsure how to feel about his loss. There is sadness, yes, but also distance. I mourn the relationship we could have had as much as the one we did.
Still, his passing has affected me in unexpected ways. My sleep is disrupted, concentration wavering. I feel foggy, prone to mistakes and forgetfulness. These are only visible in action and behaviour. Minor frustrations set me off. And apologies to those concerned. This hypersensitivity and emotional deregulation catches me off guard.
Grief manifests itself in the body and mind, even when the heart feels conflicted. The loss of a parent, however imperfect, shakes us at a core level. Right now, I have the feeling of a lump in my throat. It represents the loss of our youth, of the version of ourselves who still had a father. It is perhaps a reminder of our own mortality. Our bodies rebel against these existential threats through sleeplessness, agitation, and lapses in focus. And apologies to those concerned.
