Something changed for the better relatively recently. I've mourned the loss of my father for the past two years, but the tone of my grief shifted.
I am the eldest of four siblings. For the final couple of years of my father's decline, the others lived 2500 miles away. While my brother and sisters visited often and supported my parents in many different ways, as the only one living a couple of hours away by car, I was (for better or worse) the boots on the ground.
Being present for my parents during their time of need was the best way I knew to express my gratitude for the gifts they gave me growing up: a secure home, a sense of being loved unconditionally, and a priority placed on supporting my education. They raised a very close-knit and loving group of people who share their values. I won the ovarian lottery.
For those final years, I was driving up and back every 2-3 weeks, attending many doctor's appointments, and interpreting the medical studies and bloodwork, and even suggesting when it might be time to consider palliative care and hospice. These were difficult conversations, and I took emotional shrapnel from family that were not ready to listen in the way my father was listening.
When the time came, I supported his decision to enter hospice. It was one of the best choices he made, looking forward to visits from the young aides that helped him shower, checked in on his well-being, and delivered his supplies. It also gave my mom the respite she so desperately needed.
But I digress - the point of this was to describe an unexpected inflection point in my grief.
For the first year after his death, my dad visited me regularly in dreams that felt so real I felt his loss anew whenever I'd awaken, and it hurt. This was hard. I was in my head a lot of the time missing him.
In this second year, something shifted - he continued to visit my dreams, but instead of feeling sadness I felt a sense of gratitude that I was getting to keep his presence in my life on a regular basis, even if only through my dreams. It felt like in making his nightly rounds, I was lucky every time he chose to include me in his route. I also recognized the grief as proportional to my love for him, so it felt okay to experience it whenever it struck.
For those of you who may be missing someone you love and have lost, especially during the holidays - I hope this offers solace that you might one day frame that pain as a measure of your continuing love.