Recently my ex-father-in-law passed away after a brief illness. His death was not a surprise; however, I was taken aback by my feelings about his death. The deep sense of loss came out of nowhere, and I became consumed in a sea of complicated grief.
. . .
My father died when I was seven; this man was the closest thing I had to a father as an adult. I married his son, and for 25 years, his dad was a large part of my life.
Divorce is a funny thing. When we get married, we pledge our lives to one another, and if we are fortunate, we gain a new family. I was lucky. I became part of a remarkable group of people and gained a father. Then many years later, we parted, and I no longer call them family.
It has been eight years since our marriage became nothing more than a memory in random photos. The divorce was messy, and I found life simpler if I kept my distance. My contact was minimal except for a couple of weddings; however, I kept up with “mom and dad” through my children. I constantly stressed the importance of my children remaining connected to this family.
When I got the news he had passed away, my first thought was to comfort my children. Although they are adults, the family is tightly knit, and their grandfather still holds an essential place in their hearts. But they are grown up and have strong partners in their lives to get them through this difficult time. They didn’t need me.
I became unsettled as the first few hours turned into a day or two. My focus disappeared. Everything seemed distant and unimportant. I knew I was sad this man had passed from his earthly life, but I also knew he had a deep faith and was rejoicing in the afterlife.
At first, I wasn’t sure what I felt for this man I had not seen in a few years. Initially, I thought it was grief for the grandkids and great-grandkids, who still had so much to learn from him. Then I felt the pain of his devoted wife and children, who did not know life without him. From there, I reflected on the countless people who crossed paths with my ex-father-in-law. All the people he selflessly helped and shared his faith with—the friends, neighbors, extended family — -all those who felt his presence in their life.
But I began to realize I was failing to acknowledge the impression my ex-father-in-law made on my life.
For 25 years, I called him Dad, and he called me daughter. I never felt unimportant or neglected by him. He was always there when I needed him.
I didn’t know how to grieve someone who wasn’t supposed to be part of my life anymore. After all, he wasn’t my “dad” on paper anymore. His son and I have each moved on and have our own lives now. I haven’t been to the family home in years to sit around the fire after a backyard barbeque of hot dogs and hamburgers. Christmas days have come and gone without hearing his voice read the story of Jesus’s birth. I no longer stop by to chat on the porch swing.
My life has taken a different path. One I never expected all those years ago, and it makes grieving all the more difficult. My kids are spending time with their cousins, aunts, and uncles as they work through their pain and loss. But where can I turn?
My pain was heavy and overtook my thoughts. But I continued to keep it in. I felt as though I was not entitled to grieve. After all, he wasn’t in my life for almost a decade. I also worried that my husband might see it as grieving for my previous marriage.
But I do have a right to grieve. This man was my dad, even if only for a while. His life touched mine in a way I can’t quite explain. I always felt safe from the darkness while he was around. He was strong and fiercely protected his family. Now he is gone.
I finally broke down the other day to my husband. The damn collapsed, and the tears fells. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling or why. I just knew I hurt and needed to express my pain.
I remarried four years ago. We both know we have a past separate from each other and honor this part of our lives. We wouldn’t be who we are if we didn’t have these experiences and past loves in our lives. My husband held me and didn’t question anything. I let my guard down and found I was still safe and loved.
Life is fleeting, and people come and go out of our lives like a revolving door. But occasionally, we meet someone who leaves that mark on our lives that stays with us and becomes a part of who we are.
Our impact on each other’s lives does not end when we part ways. Although I may not see some people anymore does not negate their influence on my life. Their words, actions, and love become a part of who we are. I have been blessed to know some incredibly amazing people and will continue to carry them in my heart.
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This post was previously published on Know Thyself, Heal Thyself.
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