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Happy Grieving

@happy.grieving

2 days ago

I don't often look at photos of my dad because it hurts.

At first it was strange and deeply painful to see him so alive when he was so not alive. I wanted to see them anyway, even when it hurt. I still don't know whether I wanted proof that he was alive, or the reminder that he isn't anymore.

Tears would stream down my face and I felt my heart physically hurt.

There is one in particular. One of the special photos of the five of us, the entire family, where we looked so effortlessly happy. I included it in his memorial photo slideshow.

Then I started to avoid them.

I only saw them when they came up by accident. Scrolling past one while looking for something else. Facebook kindly reminding me of this time last year. Each unintended seeing made my heart skip a beat and then sink a little.

Like wow he really is just in photos now.

I can't believe that was the last time family was the 5 of us.

As some time passed, I started to see how old he looked in those photos, in a way I hadn't noticed before. A little skinnier than before. More wrinkles around his eyes.

Those little things you don't notice because aging takes place so gradually. But you notice if you haven't seen them in a while. And I haven't seen him for a while now.

And I wish I had realised, because then I would have cherished those moments more.

Only he wasn't actually that old. He was 64. And he died suddenly and unexpectedly. I couldn't have known. Not really.

Some months ago my sister reshared that photo.

This time, in his eyes I saw a softness and a gratitude.

I've seen it so many times, but only then did it click that he was smiling at my husband, who was behind the camera. My dad only knew him as my boyfriend. And he really liked him. In the months before he died he asked me, so when is he going to propose, and I had brushed it off as a typical probing parent question.

I wish my dad knew I got married to the man he was so fond of.

I wonder if I made up that softness and gratitude that I saw in his eyes.

Yesterday I came across the photo again.

5 years on, the edges of the usual pain had softened. It didn't sting the same way as the last time I saw it. I found myself able to look, and then wanting to look, a little longer than usual.

I looked at the details of his face and compared them to what I remembered. I tried to feel what it was like when he was right there next to me that day.

All of it felt suspended, as if it was disconnected from the reality of the loss. I still couldn't quite believe he was dead. I couldn't believe it's really been five years and this is my life.

I wanted to cry but no tears fell.

He smiled at me through the photo. I smiled back at him.

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Posted On: October 14th 2026, 07:37 pm

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Comments (4)

2 days ago

I lost my dad a little over a month ago. I miss him so much. I’ve found lately the only thing that brings me comfort, is going through his old photos. Seeing him do the things he loved with the people he loved brings calmness, when I feel overwhelmed by the grief.