My dad died a little over four years ago, but sometimes the pain of his absence is triggered in unexpected moments. Recently, I had just finished taking a yoga class at the YMCA, when grief suddenly hit me.
I had a zen and happy feeling as I walked out of yoga class, but then I heard loud music and noticed a Pedaling for Parkinson’s fundraiser in the lobby of the North River YMCA. Several Parkinsons patients were riding stationary bikes and other YMCA members were dancing to upbeat music to raise awareness about this important program at the Y that is free for people who have a Parkinsonian disorder.
As I watched the fundraiser it sparked memories of my dad and tears started to fill my eyes. My dad’s doctor at Vanderbilt was never sure whether my dad had Parkinson’s or Multiple Systems Atrophy, but he definitely had a Parkinsonian disorder and he had taken several Pedaling for Parkinson’s classes at the YMCA during his battle with this neurological disease.
I tried to hold back my tears, but my eyes continue to well up. As I cried, I felt gratitude for the program at the Y, but also sadness that my dad didn’t utilize more of the pedaling classes. He was not the best at caring for himself. He ate too much fast food and was rarely regimented about any type of exercise. As I cried, I felt sad he had not been more intentional with his diet and exercise, because he might still be here if he had taken better care of himself.
After making a small donation to the Pedaling with Parkinson’s program, I left the YMCA, but I was still in my heart space and continued to remember my dad throughout the day. As I meditated on my dad, I thought about how he was always the person I could count on for sound advice. He was amazing with children and would have been the best grandfather to my two kids. I loved to go walking with my dad, who knew the breed of every dog we passed. He would say, “Oh what a beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog” or “Look a Rhodesian Ridgeback.” My dad was a recovering alcoholic and the mistakes he made in his life and his time in recovery groups, helped him to become a grace-filled person who rarely ever said a judgmental word about anyone. I could share so many more memories, but what I miss most is the pride he had in me. I knew he deeply loved me just as I am and was proud of me.
I offered one of the eulogies at my dad’s memorial service and giving words to my sorrow was so healing. It is so important to be able to speak and name the gifts and graces of those you hold dear. Grief also means remembering the hard things too. During my dad’s younger years he had a temper and as he aged, he struggled with executive functioning. One way the executive dysfunction showed up was he had a cluttered and dirty living space, which often drove me crazy. Grief is remembering someone as a whole person, which means acknowledging both their shadow side and their strengths.
A college friend shared with me that every time she sees one of her deceased dad’s work colleagues, she immediately starts to tear up. I remember when I broke up with a boyfriend 20 years ago, for several months every time I saw a Toyota Camry, which was the model and make of the car my newly minted ex drove, I would weep. Grief is a raw messy emotion that you might run from, but then a trigger will come out of nowhere and the grief you unconsciously or consciously pushed down suddenly surfaces.
Like most people, I have a propensity to run from my grief and ignore it, but life continues to teach me that grief is something I need to make space for so that it is not only acknowledged through a trigger. Triggers are a normal grief experience, but these moments when you feel set off may not happen as often or be quite as intense if you are making space to name and feel your loss in intentional ways.
There are many practices that have helped me to process and feel grief in my life and I would like to share 12 of these with you.
• Make a grief timeline that includes grief experiences (not limited just to death) that you have experienced in your life from the time you were born until the present day.
• Attend a remembrance service, such as a Longest Night or All Saints Day Service.
• Attend a Grief Support Group.
• Frame a picture of the person you are grieving.
• Share memories and feelings with caring friends and family.
• Paint a picture of your feelings of grief.
• Consider seeing a counselor to process your grief.
• Make a contribution to charity in honor of your loved one.
• Start a journal to process your feelings. In this journal you might remember a good time you wish you could replay with your loved one and other sacred memories.
• Write a letter to your deceased loved one.
• Read books about grief.
• Wear something that reminds you of your loved one, such as a piece of jewelry they loved.
What are you grieving right now in your life? It might not be the death of a loved one. You might be grieving the polarization in our country, the empty nest, a divorce, infertility, or another painful loss. Whatever you are going through, I encourage you to make space to feel the pain of this hardship. As you make space to externalize your negative feelings, it eventually usually becomes easier to tap into more positive feelings.
When you experience a trigger for your grief, like I did at the YMCA, allow this to be a gentle reminder from your body and the heavens above that there might be some things you need to process and feel. When you run from your grief, it will show up in your body in other ways. I encourage you to keep finding ways to grieve and give expression to your feelings.
A version of this article was originally published in The Lookout Mountain Mirror.
