Thoughts on Loss

My dad passed away last week.

What could I say that would ever compare to how it felt to have him in our lives?

As I sit here looking at one of the many voicemails I’ve saved of his over the last handful+ of years, I realize I’ve been collecting moments, cards, memories - all while holding my breath, hoping I would never have to use them. A collection of necessities that come after already losing a parent - in my case, my mom in July of 2013. I wanted to make sure I had this army of pieces, prepared for when it became my dad. As if it would comfort me and make it okay.

Spoiler: it hasn’t.

When thoughts of ever losing my dad came into my mind, I shoved them away. Another childish belief that our superhero parents are invincible.

He’s so healthy.
Retirement looks great on him.
He walks 10 miles a day!

My dad never met a stranger. In fact, he was the embodiment of the Golden Rule. He wore shorts with boots, a winter coat, hat, and gloves while shoveling snow. Sports was his love language. He cried during every viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life. There was never a map or an off-the-beaten-path road he hadn’t studied. Everyone has a favorite memory where Rob is at the center.

It was impossible for him not to make a mark on your life.

I enjoyed being around my dad so much. We didn’t need to talk, but there was a great chance I was going to talk his ear off about something insignificant. I liked spying on what he’d been reading on my Audible account that he used, following along with his daily walks on the app he sent us, or calling him to ask why he had “read” my text message and didn’t immediately reply, because he had no idea what read receipts were.

There were so many moments throughout any given day that I, for lack of a better term, stalked my dad. He was mine.

How do I just let go of that muscle memory?

I’m the youngest of his three children. I think about my siblings and worry about their loneliness. We have so many people who love us, and who loved our dad, who are sources of comfort, but the room will always feel empty now.

The reality is that we will grieve this forever. We will rebuild ourselves around yet another loss, but we will never be the same.

Nor will I want to be.

I was so lucky to get to have my dad.

That’s why it hurts so much right now.