I write this on the anniversary of my dad’s death. Three years ago today, my dad passed away. A few hours before he died, he called me while I was on a walk in High Park to discuss our lunch plans for the following day. It would be the first time we shared a meal in over a year. I had put space between my father and me because he had hurt me and others deeply throughout my life. As an adult, I learned that space was a way to keep myself safe and establish boundaries. We stayed connected by talking on the phone once a week. This meal was planned because my brother had visited him for the first time in years a few weeks prior. After his visit, he called me to say that Dad wasn’t doing well and didn’t know how much longer he would be alive. Shocked by this news and burdened by guilt, I organized a lunch at my house. When Dad called, he shared his recipe for tortellini, promising to bring cheesecake for dessert. He ended the call with, “I love you, honey.” Those were his last words to me. His death marked the beginning of one of the most complicated periods of my life. I felt guilty grieving him because of the things he did while he was alive. I worried that by grieving him, I was being dismissive or disloyal to those he had hurt. I was also hit with the reality that I would never get the answers to why he did what he did or why he was the way he was. I would never get the big apology. I would never have the dad I always longed for. I also had to see him as a human who suffered and was hit by the insurmountable loneliness he must have felt. I not only grieved that he was gone, I grieved his life for him, I grieved the pain he caused others, and I grieved the childhood I never had. I also found forgiveness in his death, and there has been so much freedom in that. After my brother and I left the hospital, where we said goodbye to his physical vessel, we returned to his apartment. I opened the fridge to get a drink, and on the middle shelf was the cheesecake we would have shared during our lunch the following day. Three years later, I still struggle on days like his birthday or the anniversary of his death. I can’t write a heartfelt post with photos of us captioned "to the best dad ever" because there are no such pictures, which wouldn’t be true. I don’t feel like I can write a post about how much I miss him, even though I do, because my life is better in many ways without him here. However, each year, on the anniversary of his death, I make tortellini and have cheesecake for dessert. It's my way of feeling close to him and honouring the complex grief I carry.

Navigating Complicated Grief: Tips and Strategies

Grief is always challenging, especially when complex relationships complicate it. Here are some tips and strategies that have helped me navigate this complex emotional landscape:

1. Allow Yourself to Feel All Emotions Without Judging Them: It’s okay to feel a range of emotions. There is no right or wrong way to feel. You can miss someone and grieve them while recognizing they caused pain and hurt. It’s okay to feel angry with them and acknowledge that your life may be easier without them here. Accepting these emotions as valid is a crucial step in the healing process.

2. Find Healthy Outlets for Your Emotions: It can be helpful to find ways to express your emotions, such as journaling, art, dance, movement, or talking with someone you trust. It’s important to remember that you don’t have to speak your feelings to express them, which is why drawing and movement can be helpful.

3. Create Rituals of Remembrance: Develop rituals that help you remember your loved one in a way that feels right for you. These rituals could be as simple as lighting a candle, visiting a place, or cooking a favourite meal. They can provide a sense of connection and peace.

4. Seek Professional Help: Talking to a therapist specializing in grief can provide helpful support. They can help you navigate your grief experience with strategies specific to your needs and situation.

5. Practice Self-Compassion: Be kind to yourself. There is no right or wrong way to feel. Permit yourself to grieve in your way and at your own pace.

Grief is a personal journey, and there is no right or wrong way to feel. Sorrow "Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift." — Mary Oliver

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