Finding Happiness Through Grief

The following is a guest post, written by a friend from Smoky Lake. It explores the journey of finding happiness amidst grief. It recounts their personal experience of losing a father to suicide, struggling with loss and mental health, and eventually finding healing and joy. The story highlights the importance of professional help and the therapeutic power of nature, offering a powerful reminder of resilience and hope in the face of sorrow. Thank you Katie for sharing this profound story.

Feb 3, 2013, my life forever changed. I lost my dad to suicide. He was 53 years old. I could not fathom the words coming through my phone from the first responder that had called me. I was in shock, disbelief. I was angry, yelling at this man that he was wrong, this could not be true. How could the strongest man I have ever known end his life? My heart was broken, it’s still broken. My dad was a happy, hardworking, wonderful family man. We meant the world to him and we knew it. We were poor, but never went without anything. He would always provide for us, teach us life lessons (sometimes tough ones), right from wrong, how to be a good person and treat others. He taught us to be proud of hard work and the benefits of hard work. He showed us beauty in nature - my love of the mountains and outdoors comes from him. He loved us all so much and defended us fiercely.

A life of hard work and being overweight caught up with him. He needed bilateral hip replacements. The pain medication following orthopedic surgery prescribed was oxycontin, medical heroin. This drug was marketed and pushed like no other. Countless families, like mine, have been and continue to be destroyed by it. It is so addictive. My dad became addicted to it, and the doctors kept prescribing it. Watch Painkiller on Netflix and you will see the power this drug has and the greed behind it. This drug led my dad into a downward spiral of prescription drug overuse, alcoholism to fill the voids when he was trying not to take more, and the mental health decline from the fallout of these habits.

Numerous times I would get a call, after he had taken his prescribed meds and drank far too much. When he did this, it caused a lot of family tensions. He wasn’t himself anymore. None of us knew what to do. In his calls, he would say, ‘Maybe it’s just better if I’m not here anymore’. I would plead with him that he was wrong and that he just needed to stop taking the meds and heavy drinking, and things would get better. I would always tell him that I loved him and needed him here. I didn’t know what to do but to tell him we all loved him. I would hang up, hoping he had listened, and wait for the next time he would call and repeat. Back then, mental health struggles were a hush-hush subject, swept under the rug. You didn’t talk about it. It was something to be embarrassed about and shameful. So badly I wish I could go back and change that and change how I tried to “help”. I am happy with the positive shift towards mental health awareness.

It’s hard not to think about ‘what if I did this’, or ‘I should have done or said that’, maybe he would still be here. Being the oldest and the one my dad confided in the most, I felt immense guilt for not doing more. I still struggle with this. But I was a kid still myself, mid-twenties, trying to figure out life, too self-absorbed with my life to know how or what to do to help. ‘Where on Whyte Ave are we partying this weekend?’

Following my dad’s death, I started my own downward spiral. Heavy drinking, drugs, emotional eating, an “I don’t care, fuck you attitude”. I sought any escape from my reality to try to lessen the pain and guilt I felt. I cried all the time and would beat myself up about all the things I should have done. I shut down. I decided so many things in life and life experiences I could not be worthy of or have anymore without my dad here. I told myself I can’t ever own a home or ever get married. I can’t buy a home or car without having my dad to consult on such important things. How can I get married if I don’t have my dad there to walk me down the aisle and dance with? I had been a bridesmaid to several of my friends, and that’s how weddings go, entire happy family there, dad to walk you down the aisle and to dance with you. I told myself I don’t deserve any of those things because I couldn’t keep him here. I failed him, I failed my family, I don’t deserve happiness.

I too began to think life would be easier and my pain would stop if I wasn’t here anymore. My entire family was broken and hurting, and I didn’t know what to do for myself or any of them. My longtime boyfriend was always there for me, trying to support me and make me feel better in any way he could. We both had lost our fathers, a club that nobody wants to be a part of. He knew the sting of losing someone so important in your life, but he didn’t know how to make me happy again and how to stop me from beating myself up. I would try to talk to people, friends/family, but I would always make them sad and cry. I hated that I was making them upset with their empathy for me. So, I would just try to be like ‘it is what it is’, change the subject and force a smile.

I was so lucky to have a friend in my life, she’s still in my life, that was brave enough to open up to me about her own mental health struggles. Because she had the courage to confide in me and told me that a psychologist really helped her, I worked up the courage to call and see one myself. I cannot begin to describe to you the weight that was lifted off of me talking to this stranger. I had many family, friends, and my significant other to talk with, but talking with someone outside the situation was so helpful. On his recommendation, I went to see my family doctor and started medication to help ease and shift my mental burden. I had several visits with my psychologist. He helped me beyond measure. Eventually, I began to heal my heart and my mind. I was able to come off medication and stop my self-destructive behaviours. I still struggle every now and then and need to go to sessions, but I can recognize when I need help on my downturn before it becomes too heavy.

Christmas 2012 was the last time I saw my dad alive. The next two times I saw him were the day he was found, I had to see him for it to be true. The look of pain and anguish on his face is forever ingrained in my mind. The last time I saw him was the day he was to be cremated, they softened his expression, it was calm, that was the last time I held his hand. Certain times of year are triggering, birthdays, Christmas, and every day in between leading to Feb 3, songs remembering fond memories. I know these days, memories, and moments are triggering, always looming, and I struggle.

I still cry and have moments of ‘what if’, but I can manage these periods much better now. Before my dad died, I had begun trail running. He was so proud and in awe of me, “You ran how far?!” I leaned heavily into trail running and just being outside in general, and I still do. Long-distance trail running is hard, but it clears my mind of everything else. Because it is hard, it is the only thing in my mind when I’m doing it. It is therapeutic. My emotional eating is still with me, but my other destructive habits are no longer. With professional help, I shifted my mindset that I too deserve happiness and experiences in life without my dad being here. I got married, my mom walked me down the aisle. I continue to attempt longer trail running distances and try to be outdoors whenever possible. I shifted tracks within my profession and have made strides to make myself, my dad, my family, and my husband proud, like being named on research publications.

Grief never goes away, it is always there. It becomes a part of you, and you carry it forever. When someone you love and care for so deeply dies, a part of you dies with them. You learn to keep moving forward, like trail running, one foot in front of the other. I did not learn to do this alone. I am so thankful for my husband, my family, and my friends for always being there for me to lean on. Self-destruction and giving up are not options. Moving forward, learning from the past, and allowing yourself happiness is the only option. It is a continual work in progress and something you need to be conscious of with the effort you put in.

Some days are harder than others, the tears will flow, and I will fall back on the ‘Should’a/Would’a/Could’a thoughts. But recognizing the self-destructive path that would lead down and turning to the light instead is a positive shift. I used to have many dreams my dad would visit me, they were so vivid and seemed real. I would try to ask ‘why?’ and hug him and hold his hand, but would only get an “I love you and I miss you”. Waking up from those dreams was hard; they have lessened over the years - I think because my dad knew of the pain I would wake up with following them. But the signs he is still around are abundant.

In the days following my dad’s death, I constantly woke up at 4:44 am. I will be driving or doing something and 444 always shows up. I did not know what angel numbers were, but I do now. I feel he is always watching over us and is there. When I see a shooting star, or lay outside watching a meteor shower, or see the angel numbers, or the single orange tiger lily that was in the field on my wedding day, I know he is there. My heart still hurts for the ‘what ifs’ and what could have been. But I continue to move forward, and I am content with where I am in life and strive to embody all his wisdom and teachings to make myself, him, my family, and husband proud.

It is a conscious effort to be happy after loss. Nobody can do it for you. You need to put in the work yourself and know you are deserving and worthy of happiness too. It does hurt to not have him here for all of life’s milestones, but continuing on and being happy is a wonderful way to honor him. I miss my dad so much, and no amount of time will ever change that. I love him, and I know he loved and loves me. He always said, “We did a lot of growing up together”. Everyone’s grief is unique, and everyone has their way of living with it. Make peace with yourself, heal your heart and your mind to continue on with your life, and create happiness for yourself.

You are loved and you are needed.

AHS Mental Health Helpline: 1-877-303-2642

Addiction and Mental Health Helpline: 811

- Katie

After you left, nothing made sense: it felt like the world was ending, yet the sun kept rising day after day. – Faraway

And on that painful day, when the birds fell silent, time stood still, and the clocks failed to chime, we remember your love. The love that never dies. – Mark Lemon

A father is someone that shows you how amazing you are, even when you struggle to see it yourself. A father is someone that continues to inspire you, even when they are no longer alive. A father is someone that believes in you and loves you no matter what. My father continues to teach me not to give up on life. He is love personified. He is me, and I am him. – Mark Lemon