By Christine Cronin
Yesterday I was hit really hard by the grief brick.
This time of year is beginning to feel heavy for me as we approach the third anniversary of my Dad’s passing and, if I’m honest, in some ways it’s gotten easier but in most ways, it absolutely hasn’t.
Parenting through losing your own parent is possibly one of the hardest things I’ve done. It digs into an intense survival instinct deep within. Part of me wants to give up on everything and another part of me fights harder to not just keep going but keep going better, healthier and stronger than ever, knowing I never want my babies to feel the pain I’ve felt by losing a parent.
And special needs parenting through losing your own parent feels doubly hard to navigate.
I talk with my teenage daughter when she feels the heaviness of his absence and we hug when I feel it too.
But Cody doesn’t understand. He hasn’t from the beginning. He knew and loved his Grandad deeply, they had a special bond – as Cody does with almost everyone who breathes love into his life but with Dad, they were buddies. “Heyyy Cody Man” I can hear him say as rounds the corner to our house with his arms outstretched ready to catch Cody’s hard hug every time. And I know that sharing a disability, being deaf and trying hard to encourage Cody to wear his hearing aids “Just like Grandad!” sat somewhere special with him.
He often accompanied me to Cody’s hospital appointments. He looked after both kids, slept over, lived with us and was always quite literally a phone call away at any time, day or night.
When Dad passed, Cody wasn’t aware. He doesn’t understand death. He still signs that dead flies are ‘sleeping’ and will blow them a kiss. I don’t even know if he’s ever heard the ‘D’ word before.
I don’t even know if he misses him.
He doesn’t ask for him or sign his name and I didn’t even know if he remembered who the sign ‘Grandad’ belonged to.
Until last night.
Flicking through my phone we came across this photo and Cody smiled an ear-to-ear grin and pointed to himself. Then signed ‘Grandad’.
And that’s when I was hit really hard with grief brick.
I miss him so much. I miss the love he had for my babies. But the hardest part is that I’m pre-missing all of the things he’s not here to be a part of, and witness, as they grow up and that feels like a wound too deep to heal.
I know Cody feels my sadness, but does he feel it for himself too? Does he feel his absence? Does he question why we never see him anymore? Does he somehow know?
I wish I had answers to these and about a billion other questions that this life and this journey just don’t seem to have a map for, and, maybe one day I’ll know more but for now, I know he remembers who the sign ‘Grandad’ belongs to, so I will do my best to make sure he always remembers.
I don’t know if this is a post that will resonate with many, but if there’s someone trying to find the strength to navigate this journey while also balancing grief, you’re not alone. I’m in it too.
It’s hard and it’s heavy and it hits when you least expect it to and, even though you don’t feel like you’re doing it well, you are. You really are.
Keep going.
This article first appeared on https://www.facebook.com/specialsoulmama and has been shared with permission.
