Death is a scary word to many whom have never experienced it before and until it occurs in your family or even community we tend to disconnect from the idea. I found myself in shambles when death impacted my family, unable to pick up the pieces of my mind as I was in shock and unable to picture what my future would look like without my father in it. It is funny how a singular person’s presence missing can alter your brain chemistry so rapidly. It almost feels as if your body and mind separate and you disconnect from reality.
I remember hearing the fear in my mom’s voice when she called on the day of his passing and I could feel my mind escape my body and it felt that way for a long time as though I was just a shell of who I once was. It was not until this past December that I started finding myself again, what a weird feeling it is to heal from a human size wound that the only thing you wish would heal it is their presence. Me and my father were never super close as we both were stubborn and butted heads on many things yet I’m so grateful for those 18 years I got to spend with him.
My Father was a busy man who worked hard and traveled often and through his absence in my life I found myself growing bitter. So, when he passed it was a weird feeling to know more about him while he’s been dead than when he was living. My bitterness faded into anger about how could he just die on me and my mom before I even got to know him. As I was about to embark on the biggest chapter in my life which is college and motherhood he departed my life entirely, it was such a lonely feeling to miss someone you barely knew. The anger started to consume my whole life I found myself detached from reality and my body entirely until I found a way to put that anger into bettering myself rather than consuming me more.
I found weightlifting this past December, my father competed in bodybuilding and powerlifting all my life and I never picked up a dumbbell or even a barbell until almost 3 years since he has been gone. Working out completely shifted my mindset, I found my mind releasing all the anger and using it as a way to fuel my lifts and over time I have found myself releasing the anger entirely. Weightlifting was my father’s way of decompressing from a stressful day and I never understood why he lifted until now. Doctors always recommend working out when stressed, depressed, anxious, and for so long I truthfully saw it as an excuse to not acknowledge someone was struggling in life and needed some support. But as time has passed and I have gotten stronger and fitter I find myself in awe of how 70 minutes of weightlifting can calm my mind and body, now not saying it is a cure all…. It is not but on my journey of grief I have found a strong foundation helps grow a strong mind and soul. My dad always told me, “I was stronger than I thought I was and could accomplish anything I set my mind to”. Now any time I face a hardship in my life I remind myself of those words.
My grief journey will never be over but I feel that as I have fallen in love with a sport my dad once excelled at, I carry on his legacy of strength every time I step into the gym. I believe he would be very impressed of the women I have grown into as he’s been no longer earth side. I still wish I could have gotten more time with him, but I find myself reminded of him daily as I rack my weights on barbells and prepare for my lift.
From fellow griever, Mac