MOMMIEKNOWSFRESH: WHAT MY 2 YEAR OLD TAUGHT ME ABOUT GRIEF

When we lose someone we love sometimes it's hard to understand why. I thought about this poignantly when Joan Rivers passed away. I thought to myself how hard it must be when you lose a parent you love so much.  That was a Thursday, my father died on Friday.

I was shocked. I was hurt. Here I was thrown into grief and not really knowing how to deal with it.  I usually find myself on the other side, giving hugs, condolences, and tuna casseroles. But here I am dealing with emotions that volley between sadness and anger. I heard myself saying why, why, why, literally becoming a broken record of grief.  I cried for all the times we had, and the times we didn't.

The finality of his death hasn't really hit me yet. I keep replaying our conversation over lunch about his upcoming retirement, and spending more time with his granddaughter. What saddens me the most is that for her memories of her "Pepaw" will consist of family stories and well-worn photos. 

There was a time for a few years when we didn't speak, me caught up in my “absentee dad” history and him with his guilt.  

As I got older I realized how much I missed him, and when we reconnected we were stronger than ever.  He was present for every event, every party, and the first person to visit me at the hospital after my daughter was born.

As I deal with the loss of my father I find that it is my two year old who has taught me the best lessons on handling grief.  It is she who saves me from sadness with her frequent dance party requests. Times I want to lay down she pulls me up, wanting me to read Green Eggs and Ham...again. And when we're on the couch watching “Finding Nemo”for the millionth time, she hugs me close and I hug her back, hard. 

Because one day it won't hurt so much and while we wait we must be like Nemo himself, and just keep swimming.