Main point: their story lives on through the living; what will you emphasize? Also, ride the waves of emotion, recognize what you’re feeling, and decide what to do, whether it be to cry, laugh, sing, reach out to someone, or (opt not to) be violent, etc. It may be years until those waves subside.
My father died largely due to alcoholism, probably one of several complications related to childhood trauma, based on what I’ve pieced together from family, letters, and his journals. We were not very close, and the rift widened after he embraced many conspiracy theories. All the same, we loved each other (we spoke this aloud and in writing and action) and kept writing letters, generally about the weather and phenology.
When he died it had been several weeks of phone-tag and me thinking about writing but not actually writing. I accepted his death and also felt guilty about not being there for him, that maybe my neglect hastened his death. I’m over that now, as alcoholism is a slow-motion car crash and he’s dead anyway; all that’s left is our memories (and his ashes as tree-food, and all the cool things he made, and all the work he did for other people’s houses, and the effect of his music, and so on). I let myself ride the waves of emotion and practice noticing what I’m feeling, and ideally deciding what to do next (I still struggle with this), whether it be to cry or laugh or go for a run.
Thank you for the nudge towards reaching out to others. The COVID-19 pandemic was useful for that, as I felt more-able to be social via writing letters.
Acknowledging commonalities has helped me reach out to those family members that have some ideological differences.
My father died largely due to alcoholism, probably one of several complications related to childhood trauma, based on what I’ve pieced together from family, letters, and his journals. We were not very close, and the rift widened after he embraced many conspiracy theories. All the same, we loved each other (we spoke this aloud and in writing and action) and kept writing letters, generally about the weather and phenology. When he died it had been several weeks of phone-tag and me thinking about writing but not actually writing. I accepted his death and also felt guilty about not being there for him, that maybe my neglect hastened his death. I’m over that now, as alcoholism is a slow-motion car crash and he’s dead anyway; all that’s left is our memories (and his ashes as tree-food, and all the cool things he made, and all the work he did for other people’s houses, and the effect of his music, and so on). I let myself ride the waves of emotion and practice noticing what I’m feeling, and ideally deciding what to do next (I still struggle with this), whether it be to cry or laugh or go for a run.
Thank you for the nudge towards reaching out to others. The COVID-19 pandemic was useful for that, as I felt more-able to be social via writing letters.
Acknowledging commonalities has helped me reach out to those family members that have some ideological differences.