Embracing Hope: Healing and Moving Forward on Father’s Day

Sometimes I don’t look at the calendar because I know that time is moving forward whether I want to accept it. The concept of time has become a blur ever since April 20, 2021. It’s June, and it didn’t hit me that June was the month to celebrate Father’s Day because, somehow, my brain tricked me into thinking that it was going to be an uneventful month just trying to find balance in my new life and focusing on just finding a job while going about with all the familiarities of my everyday routine. Oh, but no. that is wrong. Or, in this case, it was forgotten. June is not just another overlooked month. It is a yearly reminder that Father’s Day is not

…Just a carne asada with a surprise mariachi appearance 

…Just a Cepillin birthday song cranked up at the crack of dawn (Yes, the Cepillin birthday anthem can be used for all occasions or just the way my family celebrated, haha) 

…Just a homemade morning breakfast consisting of huevos a la Mexicana, with freshly made tortillas, french toast with maple syrup and fresh berries, and lastly paired with freshly brewed coffee and pressed orange juice

…Just a dinner at a fancy restaurant overlooking the Mission Bay scenery 

…Just a warm embrace full of gratitude for the person who helped bring you into this mundo

I feel an overwhelming sense of naivety because I look back at the previous Father’s Days we celebrated and wish I could have shown my dad how much I genuinely love him. Knowing these would be some of the last Father’s Day memories I would celebrate with him. If only I just knew. If only, If only, If only plays on in my head. 

I’ve noticed that my demeanor tends to be more sensitive before any major holiday rolls around. I start randomly crying a few days before the major holiday and begin retreating into my cocoon, promising not to re-appear until the holiday has passed. Not only did I notice that in myself, but since living with my mom and sister, I’ve been catching this behavior in them as well as if our grief cycles have been perfectly synced up. Our mind and body somehow know what’s to come and what that means to each of us as these holidays emerge.   

Since my dad’s passing, I’ve been searching for explanations, trying to understand and seek clarity on my grief journey. One thing you can’t prepare for is losing a loved one. It’s been three years, and I feel I’m just barely able to breathe and step out of my cocoon. What have I been living through these past three years? 

Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor explains that whenever we move through the world, we have a mental map of our world that is just as if it were Google Maps. However, when we experience the loss of a loved one, our mental map of the world is not rerouted, and there is a disconnect. We are living in two worlds when we are experiencing grief until our brain finally rewires and reconnects us to come to terms with that loss. How long does it take for our brain to reconfigure? It’s different for each individual, and the grief journey is different due to who you are and what phase in life you’re in.  

Dr. O’Connor continues that grieving is a form of learning at different levels; for example, when you experience sudden loss, you believe both worlds exist. Thinking you can text your loved one, call them, hug them but then the other piece of you is coming to terms with that person who is gone. You know they’re gone, but you still think they’ll walk through the door. It is the most confusing feeling, and you think you’re losing your mind. Especially when the holidays come around, you and your family know that this person will not be there, but as a family, it’s a different meaning now that this person is gone. 

So what did we do for Father’s Day? I know it’s been three years, but our form of celebrating Father’s Day has been an evolving struggle. This rerouting is currently taking time for my heart to arrive at the next destination. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of Father’s Day, stayed off social media, didn’t reach out to friends, and strayed away from planning an elaborate day for all three of us. I just thought if we can get through this day together regardless of what we do or don’t do, we have accomplished another milestone in our journey. 

I asked my sister the night before if she wanted to go to mass early in the morning before going to the gym. We wake up early on the weekends to head to the gym, but this Sunday was different. My sister, mom, and I headed to early morning mass in our favorite flowy dresses to add color to the day. Toward the end of the mass, it was time to bless all the dads in that morning mass. I looked around and pictured my dad standing beside my mom, bowing his head to receive the father’s blessing. I pictured him turning around and smiling back at us with that sense of security and warmth, as if he were telling us everything would be okay because he was watching over us. My eyes glistened as I had the biggest smile walking out of the mass. The next task for the day. The gym. 

Usually, when I’m warming up and feel I need extra motivation to get through a workout, I listen to one of my many podcast selections. Coincidentally enough, it was Father Mike Schmitz’s Sunday Homilies. Father Schmitz talks about a TV show, specifically an episode in which a lovable character’s father dies. In this episode, the character talks to his best friend about what it was like growing up with his dad. When they would go on road trips up north to Canada from Minnesota with the family, everyone else would be asleep except for him because he would sit in the middle seat awake, just watching his dad drive on through the night. The character shares that he felt safe even when driving at night because his dad was driving. He adds that he viewed his dad as a superhero who could see through the darkness. However, now that his dad is gone, he can’t see where he’s going. He can’t see anything. 

Father Schmitz reels me in and shares that this is the role of great dads as they steer ahead, moving their families forward even when they can’t see anything beyond the headlights, even beyond down the road. Great dads just keep going even when they can’t see or don’t know what’s ahead. I put down my barbell, smirked, and quietly whispered to myself, “My dad could see beyond the headlights.” 

Father Schmitz continued explaining that there’s so much of life that is completely uncertain and so much that is also dangerous, yet those who are courageous are willing to move forward. He defined courage as not the absence of fear, but that courage is when we experience fear and are willing to continue forward along with that fear. He goes on that it’s easy to be courageous when the sun is shining, you feel good, and everything is going your way. But no, we’re not just courageous when things are going well. We are courageous when we’re perplexed, we are courageous when we are struck down, and when we’re afflicted. When all these things happen, we still walk into the unknown because that is where we are called to go. That sense of “OK, I am here in the middle of this uncertainty, yet I’m still going to choose to move forward.”  Lastly, Father Schmitz reveals that in the final line of the TV show, there’s a flashback to where the father asks his son, “Actually, son, you want to know a secret? I couldn’t see worth a darn either, and I just kept driving.” This is what we’re called to do. We’re always courageous, and we move forward even if we are fearful. 

It’s not until this Father’s Day that I can say I have been so scared and anxious about going on another year of holidays and coming to terms with what this new life will look like as my sister, my mom, and I continue exploring who we are in the absence of my dad. A piece of us will always be bound to my dad, and yet, there is also a constant fear of not knowing what comes next in this darkness. However, we will continue to walk through this one day at a time. Together. One thing that has been helping me ease this fear is to begin connecting words to the full range of emotions that come with the waves of grief I experienced on day 1 and what I continue to experience. As grief has no timeline, I’m finding hope as I write through my most tumultuous and life-changing moments. When these waves of grief come about, I can continue walking into the unknown even when there are days I can’t see the sun, I know that my dad is with me walking through that darkness. As I continue going into the unknown, I welcome you to join me on this journey of my Querido Duelo.

References:

Douglas, S. & Carn, I. (2024, March 7). The Neuroscience of the Grieving Brain with Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor [Audio podcast episode]. In Good Mourning. Acast.

Schmitz, M. (2024, June 15). Always Courageous [Audio podcast episode]. In Sunday Homilies. Ascension.