“Every winter, my dad and I took family trips, just the two of us. Ever since my mom passed away 15 years ago, we were each other’s whole families. In 2019, we travelled all around Mexico. It was incredible. We watched so many beach sunsets together.
When COVID hit, we knew our tradition was going to have to be put on pause. Neither of us was happy about it, but the future was full of other years for other travels.
And then he got sick.
The diagnosis was metastatic lung cancer, already spread to his liver, kidneys, and bones. It was an absolute shock. My dad was 62 years old and he’d always been one of the healthiest people I knew.
It was so hard to watch his health decline. As my dad started needing more care, stepping into that role felt natural. As a single father, he’d depended on me a lot over the years. But it had always been a two-way street. We depended on each other. I always knew he’d be there in an instant when it was me who needed help.
“Sometimes grief comes loudly knocking. Sometimes, it breaks down my door. Other times, it’s a gentle tap, a quiet reminder that it’s still there waiting for me."
But he couldn’t help me with this. Though my friends and extended family were so generous with their support, at the end of the day so much of it could only fall on my shoulders. It had to be just me, talking to his medical team, sorting out his finances. And it was just me, seven months later, organizing the funeral. I was so busy that I began to dissociate. I was there with my dad every minute, but it felt like I never got a chance to say goodbye.
After he died, I spent the first year trying to push the grief away. But it never goes anywhere. Sometimes grief comes loudly knocking. Sometimes, it breaks down my door. Other times, it’s a gentle tap, a quiet reminder that it’s still there waiting for me. I’ve learned to simply leave the door open and welcome grief as a regular visitor, a testament to my endless love for my dad, to the cherished memories I hold close to my heart.
Memories like how — after my dad was diagnosed, but before his health had declined completely — we managed to sneak in one last vacation together, at a cottage near Port Dover, with crystal blue water that could make you think you were in Costa Rica. We got a couple more beach sunsets.”
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