The reason why we can’t let go is because deep inside we still have hope.
Unknown
I’ve been holding onto him for a while now, keeping him alive so that I don’t have to feel the depth of his loss. By convincing myself he’s still here, I don’t have to feel the pain his death caused me. Hell, if I keep those around me in the dark, then I don’t have to witness the corners of their lips dip down because they think I’m broken.
I have always had a difficult time telling people that I lost my father. It isn’t exactly something that rolls right off the tongue, so I hide it for as long as I can.
Because once you open up that can of worms, there is no going back.
I think there is a false notion out there that I am an open book when it comes to my grief, but that really isn’t the case. For some reason, it’s easier for me to share my story to a bunch of strangers online than it is for me to tell someone face-to face that my father passed away. Admitting it out loud pumps a gallon of embarrassment into my veins and then I hate myself because it does.
With strangers, I am not forced to watch their pity in real time. I am not compelled to withstand all the sorry’s and the condolences, and all the other things that make me wish I was invisible. Reality is different. There is no running from it.
It’s also really nice talking about him as if he’s still a phone call away. It eases the pain just long enough for me to forget that he’s gone.
And it’s okay to lie yourself just a little bit. We all do it. Sometimes, it’s easier than having to suffer.
No matter how far along you are in your grief journey, don’t ever feel like you owe anyone anything. However much or little you share about your story is entirely up to you. If you are asked a question that you are not comfortable answering, you have every right to politely decline.
Your pain is not someone’s topic at the dinner table.
We Got This 