It Hurts to Let Go Sometimes

I’ve experienced lots of sadness in this life.

Almost like I was built for sadness.

But no moment so sad as September 26, 2024 when I was delivered the news of my father’s passing.

And, of the way he passed.

No words can convey the crushing pain I felt in that moment. Or the pain that remains.

If you’ve experienced crushing sadness in 2024, or in years past, or in your future, please know you can call me to share anything you want to share.

I won’t try to make you feel better.

I won’t try to change your mind.

I won’t tell you to look for the good.

Instead I will be there with you in the pain, in the shock, in the sadness.

In the anguish, in the regret, in the torment.

Or whatever else is present for you.

Because as much as ‘trying’ to ‘help’ you ‘feel better’ is a normal human response, I know it can also feel like a denial of what you’re experiencing, which is absolute devastation.

I understand.

I get it.

I know.

You’re allowed to feel this devastation, in the presence of another, without any attempt to smooth it over.

Because it’s not smooth.

It’s rough, it’s painful, it hurts.

I can be with you in this.

And if our talk helps you feel better, so be it.

But there won’t be any trying for that.

Only a being there for you, with the ability to withstand the depths of your pain.

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Thank you, to all my friends, for all you’ve done to show kindness, care, and support over these last few months.

Whether it was a visit, a card, a word, a question, a text, an ear, an offer, an email, a gift, a call, a thought, a prayer…

I appreciate you greatly. More than you know.

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Before the sun sets on 2024, the first full year without my dad, I wanted to share how much I love him and how hard it is to let go of 2024 being it’s the last year I was able to reach out and touch him.

Please reach out to someone you love, before today’s sun sets, to share a kind word, a hug, or a smile.

They may need it more than you know.