Tomorrow is Father’s Day, the second such since my father died two years ago next Sunday. I find myself missing him more this year than last; my experience with death is that the second and third anniversaries of the passing of a loved one are often harder than the first. With the first anniversary — or birthday, or other holiday — there’s a sense that one needs to be prepared for a significant emotional hit. But we live in a culture that puts a time limit on grief, and there’s an expectation that things will “get easier” each passing year. That’s true in general but not in specifics; while the overall trend of sadness is downward, pain can “suddenly spike” when least expected.
There’s also in me, I think, a kind of embarrassment about acknowledging that grief endures. No one told me that there would be a time limit on how long I would be allowed to weep for my father, but I’ve imposed one on myself. And it doesn’t seem that I am doing a good job of adhering to this self-created limit.
My father is gone, and I am not yet a father — I feel stuck in a gap between what has passed on and what has not yet come. May there not be many more such third Sundays in June.
“But we live in a culture that puts a time limit on grief, and there’s an expectation that things will ‘get easier’ each passing year. That’s true in general but not in specifics; while the overall trend of sadness is downward, pain can ’suddenly spike’ when least expected.”
I believe that the late Cardinal John O’Connor said to a group of grieving families that he had no patience for the idea of closure — that there’s some sort of international timetable for how long it takes to go through the stages of grief. There is none. I worry about people who are “over it” just a year or two after a loss. Death would be even sadder if one were forgotten that quickly. I’ll be thinking of you.
Hugo,
I hope so, too. My best (female) friend sent an email today that her stepfather who led her to the altar just two weeks ago and was a father much more than a stepfather died unexpectedly last night. I only met him briefly at the wedding, and I wasn’t close to him in any way. But reading her email I felt the sadness she must be feeling. Pain can suddenly spike when least expected, you’re right. We’re humans, after all. bmmg39 is right - death would be even sadder if one were forgotten. I’m sorry for your loss.
I worry about people who are “over it” just a year or two after a loss. Death would be even sadder if one were forgotten that quickly.
Well, of course you’ll remain sad if you dwell on the person’s death for a year or two (or more). Personally, I’d rather remember the life, especially if that’s what they would want.
THe idea of stages, maybe even the idea of eventual “closure”, sounds valid; it is the idea that everyone should have the same schedule that doesn’t ring true. And yes, I know about “spiking” and triggering. It sounds like you have found that setting a time limit in advnce on this sort of thing, doesn’t work that well. Kick said time-limit into the ocean, and I hope you feel better soon! Join me in telling this insane culture that we will finish grieving when, and how, it suits us. [This also applies for people lucky enough to be “over” something soon–that does NOT mean they have forgotten.]
Thanks for your eloquent post. It hits me particularly because, aside from the fact that I knew your father (having been a grad student in his department), this is the first Father’s Day I’ve been without my own dad. Americans put too much emphasis on only feeling “positive” emotions. I think there is something to this, which is one reason I still live in this crazy country, but if carried too far, it can become a form of oppression like any other. Go with it, Bro!
Hugo,
It’s been a longer time that my father died suddenly, two days after Christmas. I still feel sad. Grief does endure and it is not dwelling to feel sadness due to loss–it is normal. I feel sadness reading your post, because it recalls memories. There’s no time limit on feeling grief–it is the intensity that changes. I agree with Lester that people put too much emphasis on feeling “positive” emotions. (I don’t feel comfortable saying that this condition is specific to American culture.) People want you to pretend, not for your benefit as it’s all about them and it is incredibly selfish to try to dictate how someone should feel. Sadly imposing restrictions on what is okay to feel, how long and how much results in loss of an emotionally safe environment and honesty and intimacy are lost.
After my father died no one wanted me to talk about it. They said nothing or ignored my feelings entirely. Last year a friend’s father died. His talking about his father evoked strong feelings about my father and his death. I actually apologized to him for talking about my father during his time of grief and the feelings it created. I broke down and told him that it was the first time I had talked about it in years. His father’s death and talking about it restimulated my emotions. He responded with empathy and told me not to feel bad about talking about something which was normal and that he understood and was glad to offer me a safe place to talk about my feelings. That was a first. I say go with your feelings…and I’m sorry for your loss…I know how it feels.
I share Angiportus’ wish that you find a way to break free of that limit! One thing I’ve realized for myself is that I still miss all of the friends and relatives who have passed away during my adult years; sometimes missing them translates into tears, even when it’s been a decade or more. The frequency of such intense emotions lessens over time, but I have yet to cross a threshold of sadness where it’s Completely Finished. I think that that’s often what American culture implies ’should’ happen, and it’s just proven completely false in my case.
Best wishes to you and your wife today, Hugo. I hope that you’re both surrounded by love.