You cannot grieve over a father you didn’t know

I do a grief course. I feel it is the right time. Sometimes you just know it is the right time. May 2011.

We are talking about the different ways we react on a loss. What most of us have in common are feelings of guilt or regret. “I wished I have said…”, “I should never have done…” Doubts and questions that keep coming back.

But not for me! I have no sense of guilt, failure or regret, nothing nada. I was a baby. No, if someone has failed, then it would be my father. Sorry to say it like this. I experience it all from a distance.

Later that day, at home, I start writing; a letter to my father. I tell him about my life, about the moments that are important to me. The letter writes itself. I don’t think too much, just let the words come out.

And then suddenly I notice what I am doing…

I tell him my decisions, also those decisions I know he wouldn’t be happy with. He would even disagree with. My father, who I only know from photos and stories.

A friendly tranquil man, deeply religious with principles and humour. No, he probably wouldn’t appreciate everything I did. Or he might not understand from his point of view.

But I keep writing. Because this is my life. This is how I lived and that’s how I live today. And it is as if I am standing up, as if I am growing. I show him who I am.

When you grow up with a father, you have years of time… you can argue, chat, walk away and come back, seek help and support, have fun and be annoyed, grow apart and get back together. Those of us who haven’t know our father or mother, have never been able to experience these moments together.

But I am doing it now. By writing this letter. This is me. No more and no less. It is as if I am growing up. Meeting my father.

My image of him had stopped when he died. But he too would have changed, through time, through the relationship with my mother, my sister, and me (and perhaps other sisters or brothers), as well as through his own experiences and everything around him.

I realise that. We would have worked it out together. I less radical, he less conservative. Or not. Either way, we would have deepened and enriched our lives, that’s how I feel it. And while writing, I feel the bond between us growing, the loving bond.

That too is grieving: meeting. Meeting the other who is no longer here. Or who is here – in a different way.

I take them back, my words: You can grieve over a father you didn’t know.

I am grateful that I have started grieving a father who I didn’t know, who I thought I didn’t know.

A father I love dearly

My father

Anja

My relationship with my father has continued since. Because the relationship doesn’t end with death. I wrote: “My image of him had stopped when he died.” Well… I have many more images and experiences since. I will write about that in an upcoming blog sometime.

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After a loss we continue the relationship, the love; the bond with our loved one will always remain. Sometimes we feel the need to heal the bond and it can become a source of support, comfort and even joy.

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Anja Hilkemeijer

Association for Support with Grief and Loss – Malaga Spain and online

anja@livingafterloss.es