“I’m sorry to be calling with bad news, but I need to let you know that your father passed away about twenty minutes ago”. I called my brother Christian, and his wife, Erica to tell them the news. Not even 3:30am, going back to sleep was out of the question.

Numb, I scrolled through my Instagram feed and noticed that Sandra McCracken had released a new album. She’s been a favorite of mine for a while, so I downloaded it. Sometimes words and emotions need to be expressed through someone or something else before you can express them yourself. It’s just too much, too big to carry for yourself. The album Patient Kingdom has been the soundtrack of this season.

It happened so fast. Yet, it felt as if it had gone on forever. Years and years of declining health, surgeries, and watching his body diminish in size. The phone would ring, and we’d walk into ICU. There is something specific about the smell and lighting in hospitals, I hate it. Every time, he’d recover with confidence that he’d play golf and dance again, his two favorite things.

“That man has had nine lives” Erica said the day before dad died. She was explaining to my brother that dad likely wasn’t going to recover this time. Having a nurse in the family once again proving to be helpful, directive, and kind. It was just so hard to believe after all the other times he had pulled through.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear me out and I needed to rest. Laying down, I couldn’t cry, or at least I don’t remember crying, but I felt like I needed to. Grief was settling just on the surface of my skin which is where it’s remained these past several weeks. I feel it suddenly and in strange moments like while cooking dinner or running errands, for instance.

Later that afternoon, I bought nine pumpkins at Trader Joe’s simply because they made me happy and I wanted any happy thing I could get my hands on. I am seriously considering putting up two Christmas trees this year for the same reason.

Three days later Jacob asked me to marry him. We had been discussing getting married for quite a while and I had suspected our engagement was coming soon but didn’t know when exactly. Full of tenderness and intention, the timing was just right. That’s how life goes. Never 100% terrible or 100% wonderful. We hold it all in the tension between the two. Much as I had known that Jacob and I would one day get married, I had also known that one day my dad would die. Both moments held more gravity, beauty, and surprise than I ever anticipated.

Grief is not simple, nor it is a straight line. The deepest sadness I’ve experienced has been less about the loss of his physical self, but rather the loss of the relationship we didn’t have. I always wanted him. I even said that to him, along with “I love you”, and “you can rest now”, “there’s nothing left to do” as the nurse held the phone to his ear. He was no longer lucid, but I hoped that somewhere in there, he heard me. Due to COVID-19 and all it’s awfulness, the hospital didn’t allow visitors and we haven’t held a memorial yet. That will happen sometime next year.

Last week, I was chatting with my dear friend Erin. A few years ago, she lost her mother to complications of Alzheimer’s disease. She comforted me by saying: “grief brain is a real thing”. This has been so true. A fog has settled in. Yet, through the fog, life goes on and the world keeps spinning.

Now we are in the throes of wedding planning and getting Jacob’s house renovated before I move in. Picking out paint colors and cabinetry and trying on wedding dresses. It’s so much fun and easy to get lost in it all.

A happy, and grieving heart remains in ebb and flow and there isn’t any other way to deal with it. I can’t micromanage or strong arm the process and if there is anyone who would want to do that, it is me. Instead, all I can do is take one step and a time, feeling the feels and in doing so, learning to accept that it’s through the loss of my father that I can go to places of deeper compassion than were previously possible. This is how his life will continue on. Just as those of us whom he left behind will also continue to continue on. The onslaught of love, cards, flowers, “I’m coming over”, calls, texts have brought such care. Thank you for the outpouring of love in this rather extreme time. You know who you are, thank you.