grief Archives - So About What I Said

Sunday, June 21, 2020

An Open Letter to the Fatherless on Father’s Day

For the last 17 years, the third Sunday in June has always been a hard day. And this year, that would be today. Father’s Day. Now, in a perfect world, we’d all be sharing a magical, love-filled, joyous day with our dads tomorrow, but there are far too many of us who are members of the club that no one ever wants to join: The Fatherless Club.

This open letter is for you. For all of us.

I haven’t been to the store in three months because of COVID and, honestly, I’m sort of glad about it, especially during the month of June. Ever year, I dread seeing the rows and rows of Father’s Day cards. And the Father’s Day mugs that cheerfully proclaim “Best Dad Ever.” And the Father’s Day shirts. And, well, Father’s Day everything. It’s all on display and it sort of feels like a knife to the heart every time I see it. It’s another reminder of my grief, of my loss, of the fact that I’m not going to be buying a gift for my dad.

Not last year.

Not this year.

Not next year.

Not ever again.

For people like us who live with this grief and missing our dads every day, Father’s Day feels like a neon sign making those feelings even more intense and palpable. It sends us down memory lane once again and we remember the memories that make us smile. For me, I remember summer days with my dad at the local pool and walking to his office to visit him during a hot June afternoon. I also remember he loved being a father — it was his favorite job and he was the best of the best.

But when you’re fatherless today, you also remember the not-so-happy times. You remember the final days (maybe even final moments) that you shared together. You remember all the things you wish you could have done differently — you know, the ones that still tend to keep you up at night no matter how many years have passed.

It’s those good and bad memories that you remember together. They sort of blend together like a patchwork quilt that tells all of your story. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last 17 years of being fatherless, it’s that you can’t help but feel all the emotions.

And guess what?

THAT’S PERFECTLY OKAY.

Let yourself feel today. Let yourself feel everything without judging yourself or thinking you’re a “bad” son or daughter for feeling the way you do. The worst thing we can do is ignore or deny our emotions. If you’re missing your dad today, miss him. If you’re angry at your dad today, be angry at him. If you just want to smile today, then go ahead and smile.

After all, there’s no playbook for this sort of thing. Trust me, I wish there was, but when you lose a parent, you just have to make up the rules as you go along. Do what’s right for you. Feel what’s right for you. And know that I’m here for you. For all of us just trying to navigate this life as a member of the club we never wanted to join… xoxo

P.S. My CNN op-ed from 2018 on the bittersweet nature of Father’s Day.

[Stencil by Poppy Chancellor]

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Remembering Harry: The Cat Who Made Me a “Cat Lady”

We lost our lovable, wonderful Harry two years ago today. TWO YEARS. I can’t believe it…

It’s strange because it doesn’t feel like two years. It seems like it was just yesterday when Harry came into our lives and immediately made himself at home; he just fit into our little family so perfectly from the beginning — almost as if he was a missing puzzle piece that completed our puzzle after my father’s death. My mother always says that our little orange tabby needed us and we needed him and that’s so true. We were, indeed, the perfect match for each other.

In fact, I was thinking just this afternoon about the impact little Harry had on my life and you know what? He’s the cat that turned me into a Cat Lady — capitalized, of course, because that distinction is a proper title, after all, isn’t it? I’m actually surprised that I didn’t come to this realization sooner. Before Harry waltzed into our lives (and, yes, he did have a sort of jaunty waltz to his step!), I wasn’t much of an animal person at all. I guess I was a dog person if I had to choose, but I was most certainly NOT a cat person. Cats didn’t have personality, I thought. If you’d seen one cat, you’d see them all, right? They’re aloof and unfriendly and, well, sort of boring. Yes, I know now just how prejudice that type of thinking is! Cats, it turned out, were FULL of spunk and pizzazz and I have Harry to thank for helping me see the glorious light of what happens when you welcome a cat into your life and, maybe more importantly, into your heart.

I mean, not to sound too cheesy, but so many wondrous and enchanting things happened in our lives because of Harry and I hope he knows just how much he meant to all who knew him. He was the most charming, but also wasn’t afraid to give some side-eye at your shenanigans! He’ll always hold a very special place in our hearts and we’ll miss him forever. As we always said, “He was a good boy.” Yes, indeed. He was the very, very best boy.

Do you have any pets, friends? What’s your favorite story of life with your beloved animal friend?? Pets truly are life-changing and I’d love to hear all your stories in the comments… xoxo

P.S. My essay for Redbook from 2016…all about Harry’s awesomeness!

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

How Meghan McCain Talking About Her Grief Journey Shaped My Own

Meghan McCain is celebrating her 35th birthday today!! Y’all know I’m a fan girl, right? Or maybe you didn’t if you’re a new blog reader? In that case, you should know that one of the highlights of the summer was going to a taping of The View!!

But it’s Meghan’s willingness to talk about the taboo subject of grief that has truly meant the most to me recently. Following the death of her father, the late Senator John McCain, she’s started a much-needed conversation by talking openly about her grief. It’s something our society doesn’t do. In fact, it’s something we actively discourage, but she gives a voice to it — to the darkness, to the pain, to the emptiness that loss leaves.

We’re told to “work through our grief” and while the intensity may change over the years, grief never fully goes away. It lingers — through holidays, anniversaries, birthdays. It’s that hole in your heart that can never be filled. And. That’s. OK.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of my father and I think it’ll always be this way. One of the WORST things we can do is tell someone how to grieve. Don’t do this. You’re not being helpful and you’re just further stigmatizing grief. We need to talk more, not less.

I recently wrote about the horrible trend of ‘grief-shaming’ and it sickens me that we even have a word for this because it shouldn’t be a thing in 2019. But I’ve experienced it — people telling me to move on & get over it. People telling me to stop writing about my dad — I mean, obviously, I’m not going to stop writing about him. Ever. But, ugh ugh. We shouldn’t be getting grief from other people as we continue to do the very hard, life-changing work of processing our own grief, you know?

Anyway, here’s the piece I wrote in the hopes that people start looking at grief as a journey and not a destination…

“Grief is as individual as the person going through it. There is no right way, no one size fits all. Grief is an individual journey and no one can tell us how to do it. We must find the way that works for us and not judge others because they may grieve differently.
I’m always going to talk about my father, my grief and my journey. It’s all part of my life and my story. We each have to move through grief at our own pace and in a way that is comfortable for us.”

As Meghan herself wrote in an Instagram post shortly before the one-year anniversary of her father’s death: “Last year tomorrow, August 25th was the worst day of my life. I lost my hero. I miss my father every single day, I will for the rest of my life. Grief is omnipresent and relentless. The memory of my father’s life continues to guide me today, as it always will.”

Happy birthday, Meghan McCain!! Thank you for talking about grief and being so open and honest about your journey. You’ve been a voice for so many of us who have also lost a parent. I know your dad is with you today!! Sending lots of love… xoxo

P.S. Plus, can I just say how incredibly badass Meghan McCain is? She can hold her own and I love that she’s a strong woman who doesn’t back down!!

Thursday, July 25, 2019

My Essay on The Fix: “Music and Emotion: How Songs Help Us Grieve and Heal”

A couple months ago, I tweeted about a piece I was working on for The Fix. The finished piece went live!! I explored the intersection of grief and music. There are certain songs and albums that remind me of my father, both happy and sad memories.

As I’ve said before, music is quite a powerful medium. Music connects us to those we’ve lost and helps heal us. It’s all there in the melodies and lyrics. Thank you to everyone who shared their own song stories with me for this piece — you’ve shared a piece of yourself, a piece of your grief, a piece of the person you lost, and that is no small feat.

Here’s an excerpt of the piece, in which I write about how emotional certain songs from the ’60s and ’70s can be for me, no matter how many times I hear them to this day…

There are the songs that evoke the memories of my childhood, like the oldies from the ‘60s and ‘70s that we listened to on family car trips. I can’t listen to Simon & Garfunkel or Gordon Lightfoot without memories flooding back –like when my father introduced my sister and me to his record collection. We played those records for hours until we had all the words memorized.
Then there are also the songs that remind me of the dark days and months just after he died. A month before his death, I bought Norah Jones’ debut album on a whim and it sort of became the soundtrack of his death. My mother and I listened to it constantly, so every time I hear “Come Away with Me” I’m immediately transported back to that time. Suddenly I’m that scared, confused 21-year-old who can’t believe she’ll never see her father again.
These songs make me so sad, and yet I can’t stop listening. It’s almost like I’m drawn to the pain that those songs evoke, as if listening to them will somehow help me continue to process my grief.

You can read the full piece here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! Love you all… xoxo

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

My Essay on The Fix: “Please Don’t Tell Me How to Grieve”

I published my second piece on The Fix last week about something that has always baffled me — this notion that there’s a “right” and “wrong” way to grieve. Grief is such a personal journey, so why do people think it’s OK to tell others how to do it? These are the words I wish someone would have said to me 16 years ago.

As I’ve mentioned countless times on this very blog, I never understood this whole idea of grief-shaming until my father died. While his death was traumatic, hearing people tell me how I should grieve was just as traumatic. Please, please, don’t be that person!

Here’s an excerpt of the piece, in which I also talked to a therapist who specializes in grief to get an expert’s take and advice…

I learned pretty quickly that talking about death on places like Facebook makes some people uncomfortable. We may be a society that lives our life online, but for all the sharing we do on social media, there’s still this stigma associated with posting about our grief and the loved ones we’ve lost. It feels like an unspoken rule of sorts: grieve in silence. Don’t talk about it.
But here’s the thing about grieving: You’re never going to please everyone. You’re never going to grieve the “right” way because there is no right way to grieve. That’s something that took me a while to learn and understand. At first, I was afraid of what people would think or how they would view my grieving process, which included writing about my father’s suicide regularly on my blog. I even began to feel as though I needed to hold myself back and not talk about it, but you know what? That wasn’t good for me. In fact, it stalled my grieving process, and that wasn’t healthy.