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Letters from loss dad to loss dad


If I’m drinking a cup of coffee on my front porch and watching the rain pour down, I’m grieving. I’m trying to recover. I’m trying to heal. I will focus on the beauty of nature around me and remind myself that there is still good in the world. It’s a moment by moment thing. I know that I will never be care-free again and have no hope of unabashed joy in my heart. It’s sad, but true. The best I can hope for are a few moments of appreciation of what is good.
Matty’s dad

Acceptance, probably the most relevant word. People say move on, but it isn’t the right word for me. I think about Brodie first thing in the morning and last at night and often during the day as you can’t escape family conversations at work or stop wondering what might have been. Your mind and body get used to the pain and you learn to deal with it better as you accept how you feel and don’t fight it. There will be good and bad moments and that is just a sad reality.
Greg Munro

The only light that I’ve found has been in the belief that she is the energy that drives all of the wonder in the world. She is the sun that warms my skin and she’s the snow in my hair. She’s the waves that crash, the breeze that cools, and the rains that bring life. She’s the leaves that fall and she’s the sand between my toes. She is every bird song, every butterfly, and every rainbow. She fills my world with all of the beauty she can muster, and I find her in that. I find her everywhere I can.
Jonathan, Mathilda’s Daddy

Taken from “From father to father, letters from loss dad to loss dad” by Emily R. Long