The Good that Comes from Grief

This past weekend was my father’s birthday. He would have been 86 years old on Saturday, February 15th- the day after Valentine’s day. My father passed away six years ago, and coping with his passing has become surprisingly more difficult as the years progress. I know grief is arbitrary and creeps up on you when you least expect it. I’ve lost too many people that were close to me and whom I still hold close to me. A couple of years after my father, my mom’s best friend, and quite frankly, mine, passed as well. And a few months after her, one of my closest childhood friends, who was also the son of the pastors at my church, joined my angels up above. I have seen how the shock and the impact of death have rippled through the lives of my loved ones, but to be quite honest with you, the ripple effect my father’s death has had on me recently has been revelatory and unexpected.

My relationship with my father growing up was cursory and shallow. I didn’t really know my father and I always felt like he really didn’t know me. This was due to- or was what I believed to be the case- our age gap. My father was 59 years old when I was born and he was retired by the time I was six. My dad was also an alcoholic and a smoker up until about the same time, and consequently suffered from several health issues. My father had gout, bad knees, acid reflux, a heart bypass, damaged lungs, and a clot in his brain, but ultimately, he passed away due to kidney failure. As a kid, we made frequent visits to the doctor and the hospital, and that’s probably the reason I loathe hospitals now. Another consequence of having made such frequent visits was that I was also constantly bracing for that to be the last time we’d have to be there because I didn’t think my dad would make it out alive. So because our relationship lacked depth and because my father was more acquainted with nurses and doctors than with me, I grew to be quite detached from him.

Now that he’s gone, I feel closer to him than I ever have. I see him in everything that I do, in the way that I behave and carry myself, and in the way that I look. I have his hair and his nose, and make the same face he does when I’m upset. I have a love for reading and a pile of books on health and medicine just like he did. My father used to always do breathing exercises, and at the time, I thought he was a bit of a wacko, but now I do them, too. The night after his birthday this year, I had a dream with him. It’s not the first time he’s been in one of my dreams since he’s passed, but it was probably the first time that I felt closest to his heart. I dreamt that I went to visit him at the apartment we used to live in for most of my childhood. We lived on the second floor, and once I rang the bell, I saw him look down towards me from the top of the staircase through the window next to the front door. He smiled and seemed excited and came down the stairs, opened the door, and gave me a big hug. I felt him wrap his arms around me, and I felt his big ole beer belly press against me as he embraced me.

Lately, I have been experiencing a lot of worry, depression, and disappointment, and coincidentally, have been thinking of my father more than usual. Having that dream with him was a gift, and what I now realize, a message as well. As I began to reflect on my feelings, I realized that a big part of why I felt so heavy these past few weeks is because growing up, my father always held me to such a high standard, all whilst doing everything he could to make sure I was happy and taken care of. That’s always what he really cared about- my happiness. When he was around, my family and I really never had to worry about anything. Even after he retired, we always had food, clothes, toys, and devices that we both needed and wanted. My dream showed me that he’s still taking care of me and that I don’t have to worry. Grief really is something. I miss my dad and I don’t think I ever really missed him when he was still on this Earth. Despite being detached and distant with my father when I was younger, I was always very thankful for his gifts and financial support, and later realized that was his way of showing us he loved us. And now, I’m even more grateful and appreciative of everything he did, even though I couldn’t really see or feel what he was doing for his family as a kid.

At his funeral, the officiant asked the crowd if anyone would like to come up and speak about my father by describing him in one word. My father also had six kids, and we were all there, but out of all of us, I was the only one to get up and talk about him. Normally, I’m very emotional, but this time, I spoke proudly and firmly about my father. He was a very stoic, reserved, private man, and I remember one of the things he told me as a kid was “One friend is too much, two friends is too many, and three friends is not possible.” So as I stood to speak to the crowd in front of me, I was quite shocked to see how many people were in attendance. But to me, that went to show just how loved and respected my dad actually was.

Strong. That’s how I would describe my dad in one word. He was strong-headed and stubborn in his ways. Once he believed in something, it was hard to convince him otherwise. I’m quite hard-headed myself, and I attribute that mainly to being a Taurus, but a big part of it is me taking after my dad. He was also physically strong. As kids, my dad enrolled my brother and I in Kung-Fu classes, and even at his old age, my dad would still be around the house practicing tai-chi and would go out for walks to keep his body moving. My dad was always revered as a strong man. He never had issues with anyone because people always respected him, and he really was a strong, stable foundation for my mom, my brother, and me, despite all of his issues.

For a long time, I was in denial of the fact that I had “daddy issues” because like I said, I felt pretty detached from him and I was never really aware of the impact he had on me and my life. I have daddy issues in the sense that I find it hard to trust or connect with other men, and I guess I never realized it because I was always surrounded by and connected with women. Thus, I never really felt like I lacked anything by not having strong relationships with men. Now that I’ve transitioned, however, I long for male friends and to have men that I can count on and connect with because as a man, as anyone, I long for a community where I can feel understood. I long to have friends that I can play basketball or video games with, or go to the gym with, and just do bro things with. But nonetheless, my point here is that, the more I began to reflect on my relationship with my father and heal from it, the more I learn about myself and the lighter I feel as I move through life.

Grief doesn’t make any sense sometimes, but I think it’s important to sit with and acknowledge how it makes you feel when it does show up because our feelings are an indicator of our truth and our direction. If you have ever experienced someone’s passing, just know that I send you my love and my strength. I know you might always long for that person to be by your side, and coping with their absence may feel like it never becomes any more lightweight. Something that I find comfort in, however, is knowing that my father’s spirit still remains very much alive through my thoughts of him. Expressing gratitude for his time in my life and for everything that I carry on with me about him makes each day a bit more bearable.

Our time on this Earth is temporary, and what matters is how we move forward through all of our pains, wins, joys, and heartaches. Though grief may ebb and flow in unexpected ways, it is a testament to the love we hold and the bonds that transcend time. My father’s presence, his strength, and his love remain woven into the very fabric of who I am. As you continue on your journey, may you find solace in the lessons your loved ones left behind and in the ways they still walk beside you. Let their resilience inspire you, their love uplift you, and their memory be a guiding light. Even in their absence, they are still caring for you—through the strength you’ve inherited, the wisdom you’ve gained, and the love that will always remain. I know my dad would want me to carry on and continue to do what I can to make him proud and make myself happy. Whatever the case may be for you and your loved one, keep moving forward and continue to sustain them in everything that you do, too.

Kamryn and his father the day Kamryn graduated from high school (2017)

Kamryn and his father the day of Kamryn's high school graduation (2017)