Mourning the Loss of a Loved One... and Myself
Words by Alexis Hite
Five and a half months ago, my entire world was rattled. It was a beautiful 85° July Saturday in South Carolina. I was out with a friend, enjoying the sunshine when I got a text from my little sister asking if I was busy. I told her no, and she called me; she’d had an eerie feeling when she got home that morning and hadn’t heard from our dad in over 24 hours. I stayed with her on the phone, hoping for some hilariously embarrassing mistake we’d all laugh about later. Instead, when my sister went into his bathroom, sure enough, I heard a scream I will never be able to unhear.
Fast forward two weeks later. The funeral is over, a beautiful military service, and I am on my way back to South Carolina where I’m supposed to go back to work and live a “normal life”. Losing my dad was the worst thing to ever happen to me in my relatively privileged life. As someone who’s already struggled with anxiety and depression, I knew a true battle was ahead of me.
My boyfriend of 9 months saw a change in me that ultimately led to the end of the relationship. But I was so numb to any pain, that all I knew at the time is that I wanted to feel again. I turned to people and things I knew would erase all the bad and make me feel the “happy” I missed. For months, I lied to myself about how I felt regarding both myself and my dad.
“It’s fine, he’s gone, he’s in a better place, you’re here, enjoy your life!” Whatever it was I had to tell myself to get through the day. Alcohol became a very close friend of mine. Not to the extent that I needed it to survive, but more because it either put me to sleep, or helped me feel. Whether those emotions were happy or sad depended on the day and the drink.
Eventually, I realized that the person and relationship I threw myself into was toxic. Some might even say emotionally abusive. I had been convinced that I was the source of all his problems. That I was a liar. That I was crazy. It wasn’t until I let this guy meet my mom that my eyes were opened to how he truly was.
That turning point led to a series of decisions I hadn’t been ready to make four months prior: I got a brand new apartment, just for myself. I sought therapy and restarted my anti-depressants. I began chasing my dream career instead of settling for the office job that pays the bills. More importantly, I’m learning to live my life the way I wish I had when my dad was still around.
I lost a part of myself the day I lost my dad. But I’m learning that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’ll never know why my dad was taken from us so soon, but I can believe that I’m made to be stronger and a better version of myself because of it.
Those who have never truly lost someone never really know what to say when someone close to them is grieving. I’ve learned that there really is nothing to say. Words don’t fix anything. Silence can. Being there can. As someone who has been gifted with a new strain of wisdom (the most positive spin I can put on it), I want to try and help those grieving the best I can because while my heart aches everyday, I know I’m doing my best, and that’s all my dad wanted me to.
About the Author:
Alexis is a 24-year-old Miami University (OH) graduate who is currently residing in Greenville, SC. She has two cats, Cleo and Oliver, who are her saving grace, and she hopes to make the world a better place one kind gesture at a time.
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