On My Father’s 81st Birthday: A Journey of Grief, Healing, and Resilience

Today, on what would have been my father’s 81st birthday, I find myself reflecting on the profound journey I have walked since his passing. This year, his birthday coincides with Gurpurab, a day of reverence and gratitude, and it feels fitting to honor not just his life but also the lessons his absence has taught me.

Life is a story of evolution, and with evolution comes change, change that is often unexpected, uncontrollable, and even unwanted. We are wired to look back, to yearn for the “what was” and feel nostalgic for the lives we once imagined. Yet, it’s often not the past that holds us captive. What we are really mourning is something much harder to grasp, the future that never came to be.

This resonates deeply with the theory of 'ambiguous loss', developed by psychologist Pauline Boss. This theory describes a type of loss that is unclear and lacks closure, often resulting in unresolved grief. We may ask, “What if?” or “What could I have done differently?”, but there is no definite answer, leaving us in a loop of longing and hypothetical scenarios. For me, this ambiguous loss manifested not just in the memories of my father but also in the life I had imagined we would share.

As his daughter, I have carried the weight of his loss since I was 14. At first, this weight felt unbearable. I struggled with a fear of abandonment, unsure if others would stay in my life, which sometimes led to anxious attachments or keeping emotional distance to protect myself. My sense of self-worth took a hit as I often questioned whether I was “enough” without the validation he once provided. I became hyper-independent, hyper-responsible, hesitant to rely on anyone, and joy became something I distrusted, fearing its fleeting nature. In trying to be strong, I suppressed my grief, unknowingly forming a pattern of emotional denial that sometimes surfaced as anger, anxiety, or difficulty understanding my feelings.

It is said that 'Grief Lives in the Body'

Grief is a powerful, unspoken presence that shapes us in ways we often don’t realize. For years, I carried it unconsciously, believing that moving forward meant setting it aside. But it was only when I turned inward, when I began to connect with my internal family system, that I understood the depth of what I was holding onto.

I learned that trauma isn’t just emotional, it’s physical. My shoulders, perpetually tense, bore the guardedness of a child bracing for more loss. My chest held a tightness, a barrier I had built to protect myself. My heart carried an ache, a hollow space where my father’s presence once was.

This was the legacy of my grief; the shadows of a young girl who lost her father too soon. She grew up self-reliant, reluctant to trust, and fearful of losing more. Beneath it all, she yearned for connection, for the guidance and stability her father once gave her. For decades, I believed my father’s passing had cast an enduring shadow over my life, influencing how I related to others, how I viewed happiness, and how I saw myself. Friendships, relationships, and even career achievements felt vulnerable, as if they could disappear at any moment. I avoided asking for help, equating dependence with potential pain.

Growing up, I wanted to be strong, to push through, to “move on.” But in reality, I was holding my emotions tightly within me, not realizing that grief doesn’t disappear when ignored, it actually stays within the body, shaping how we think, feel, and interact. My 'mini ME' was wary, scanning for signs that her world might shift again, as it had so suddenly at 14. This led to patterns of anxious attachment and a need for constant reassurance.

Despite this guardedness, my 'mini ME' held a deep yearning for connection and the unconditional support my father once provided. I realized that my grief wasn’t just about the past, it actually was about the future I had imagined with him. I was mourning the missed milestones, the guidance I longed for, and the moments I thought we would share.

A Journey of Healing

Through this journey, I have come to see that true healing doesn’t lie in forgetting what we have lost but in learning to carry it with us in a way that honors both the past and the present. By turning towards 'mini ME' and allowing myself to feel sorrow, anger, and yearning in manageable doses, I am learning to release the long-held emotions my body has been carrying. This process helps me reconcile the gap between the life I once imagined and the life I am living now. My search isn’t for a substitute for my father but for a way to integrate his absence into who I am becoming, a way to carry his legacy without being defined by what I have lost.

15.Nov.2024 - A Day of Reflection and Gratitude

This year, as his birthday aligns with 'Gurpurab", it feels like a divine reminder of gratitude and grace. I feel thankful for the journey his love, and his loss, has set me on. While I may never stop missing him, I know his influence continues to guide me. He is present in my resilience, in my ability to nurture myself and others, and in the courage it takes to face life’s uncertainties with an open heart.

On his 81st birthday, I imagine him smiling down, not just at the milestones I have reached, but at the woman I have become. The girl who lost him at 14 has grown into a woman who can carry his memory forward with loads of courage and strength.

A woman who has learned to face her shadows and embrace the life she is on to. A woman who can express openly about her journey, honour her internal family system, and hold space for both grief and joy. While the future I once imagined with him is no longer possible, the life I am living and building holds its own meaning, purpose, and joy, deeply grounded in love and resilience.

I once read a quote that said, “You think you’re mourning your past, but that’s not what you’re mourning. You’re mourning the future you thought you’d have.” It resonated deeply, giving voice to the quiet grief I felt for the life I believed we would share.

Happy 81st, Dad.