The beautiful side of grief

Being able to see the beauty that lives on

Over the last year I’ve been grieving for my Dad who I lost when I was three. I’ve processed lots of the sadness through my writing. But over the last few days something beautiful occurred to me.

Something obvious.

But something I just couldn’t see before.

Because the last year has been about processing a loss I’ve missed all my life, and comprehending a loss I didn’t understand when I was a little girl. Becoming a Mum is actually what heightened my grief, because watching my children with their Dad made me miss mine a whole lot more. Missed what I could have had. The safety, the fun, the presence a good Dad brings into a family home.

Letting out this sadness over the last year has been heart wrenching but needed. Needed so that I could arrive to this point. The side of grief where I can see things a little differently.

Because instead of only seeing the loss, I can now see the beauty that lives on.

The beautiful side of grief

It was a song very close to my heart that gently nudged me to arrive to this point. A song that my brother wrote about my Dad. It came on my playlist while I was working last week. It’s called ‘A Matter of Opinion’. The lyrics sing:

‘It’s a matter of opinion that you’re gone, you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once’

As always I shed a few tears while the beautiful melody and words played out. I just took the moment for what it was, my reaction was the same as always when I hear the song, so I didn’t think much more about it…

That is until I found myself replaying the lyrics in my head as I cuddled my nearly 5 year old daughter to sleep.

The words landed in a way they hadn’t before.

They found their true meaning.

I realised as I laid there holding my little girl

‘Parts of my Dad are in this gorgeous little girl, and parts of my Dad are in my beautiful boy. His blood, his genes, his personality runs through every inch of them.’

His blood, his genes runs through them…as I said, kind of obvious right? That would be called biology.

But…the sorrow of grief can blind you to the beauty that lies before you. Your heart needs to be able to see it too.

Getting to know the man I call Dad

I’ve always struggled with the fact I didn’t really have a chance to know my Dad, not in a way that you do as a grown up. Sure, my heart remembers him. But I have no memories that can play out that helps bring him to life.

But now maybe I do? Because parts of my Dad are right there before me. In my children’s spirit, their hearts and their minds.

The same song came on my playlist of over 1,000 songs again the day after this epiphany. And I don’t think it was a coincidence.

My Dad needed me to hear the song again and rather than cry yet more tears, he wanted me to listen and smile. Smile with the knowledge that yes he’s all around, in me, my siblings and…in my children.

I’ve always loved my children so very much, as any Mum does, but now realising what I do, I’ll hold them more tightly than ever and pay attention a little harder. Because all I have to do to remember my Dad, is just to live life with them. X