Finding Light in Grief
For as long as I can remember, the word “grief” has carried a heavy and dark energy. I used to define it as a state of loss where hope seems impossible to find. I also thought grief applied only to the loss of a loved one, but over time, I’ve learned it encompasses more. It can be the loss of a home filled with memories or the loss of a job that someone worked tirelessly to achieve. Grief is deeply personal, and its meaning is unique to each of us. What does grief mean to you? Two decades ago, I attended a class on grief at a spiritual center in my town to support a friend. A week later, my father passed away. I don’t believe in coincidences, so I took it as a sign that the Universe was preparing me for a profound life lesson. The Beginning of Grief My father’s passing didn’t come as a surprise—he had been battling Parkinson’s disease for a year. But I can trace my grief back to the day we made his permanent residency at a nursing home official. That day, everything changed for my small family. My mother, sister and I were thrust into a new reality where one vital piece of our lives was missing. My mother felt lost at home without him. My sister, whose children had grown and moved away, became his primary caregiver. As for me, I often felt like I lived at the nursing home more than I did in my own house. I visited him regularly and spent quality time with him, yet the shadow of his impending passing loomed constantly. Losing him felt unbearable, and yet, all he could talk about was my mother, who was alone at home. His love for her remained steadfast until the very end. He even asked me to promise that I would ensure she never felt lonely after he was gone. I did my best to honor that promise. I would laugh and share stories with him, but the drive home was always filled with tears. Anger surged within me toward relatives and friends who couldn’t be bothered to visit him. Denial became my coping mechanism. I refused to acknowledge the inevitable changes heading our way. Staying present, sitting beside him, felt like the only way to bear it. The Weight of Anticipatory Grief Eventually, I sought the help of a psychologist at work. The overwhelming emotions felt unbearable. When I explained how I felt, the psychologist thought my father had already passed. She then introduced me to the concept of “anticipatory grief”—the mourning that begins before a loved one’s death. It was a revelation. I wasn’t going crazy. My anxiousness and my need to say goodbye, even while he was still alive, were part of the grieving process. Despite the emotional turmoil, there were moments when I wanted to pack his belongings and bring him home. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t provide the level of care he needed. The nursing home staff offered 24/7 medical supervision and safety measures that I couldn’t replicate. I had responsibilities at my job in the hospital, and my limitations became painfully clear. Finding Light Amidst the Darkness Looking back now, I see how fortunate we were to have spent those final moments with him. But at the time, grief felt like a relentless monster, looming over us and consuming every aspect of our lives. Whether it’s anticipatory grief or the grief that follows a loss, the darkness can feel all-encompassing. But with time—that same victorious monster—the darkness begins to lift. Little by little, light starts to seep in. During this process, it’s essential to take things one day at a time and check in with yourself. Ask questions: Am I angry today? Am I sad today? Are my emotions all over the place? Am I breathing deeply today? These small acts of self-awareness can open the door to healing. Your mind and body are incredibly intuitive; they know how to begin the healing process if you give them the space. Be patient with yourself and observe as the clouds of grief slowly start to part. The light is there, waiting for you to let it in. Namaste, Shab
The Weight of Caregiving—Caring for My Father
A New Caregiving Role After my father was diagnosed with Transverse Myelitis, my life shifted yet again. Just when I had found some stability after my mother’s passing and the conclusion of my difficult divorce, I was pulled back into caregiving—this time for my father. His sudden partial paralysis brought on by the rare condition left him dependent on others. With him living two hours away, the challenge felt even greater. The Emotional Toll Watching my father struggle with basic tasks was heartbreaking. It stirred up memories of my mother’s illness, reviving emotions I had hoped were behind me. Balancing my father’s needs with my own responsibilities as a mother and working professional quickly became overwhelming. The long drives to his appointments and the coordination of his care consumed much of my time and energy. Emotionally, it felt like I was being pulled back into a cycle I had just escaped. Support from My Brother Thankfully, I wasn’t alone in caring for my father. My brother, a high school math teacher, was incredibly supportive during this time. Despite his own demanding schedule, he often stepped in to help with Dad’s care, taking on many responsibilities that would have been impossible for me to handle alone. He was also instrumental in offering me much-needed emotional support, helping me talk through the guilt, stress, and exhaustion I felt. His presence made the burden more bearable, and I’m not sure how I would have managed without him. Balancing Career and Caregiving Though I had rebuilt my career and life after the divorce, my father’s needs began to affect my ability to focus at work. Weekends that had once been for family time or personal recovery became devoted to managing his care. The strain on my career and personal life was undeniable, and I felt the same juggling act I had endured with my mother’s illness repeating itself. Finding Moments of Relief Exercise remained a critical outlet for me. Whether it was a long walk or a tough workout, it gave me a way to release the stress of caregiving. I also leaned on close friends and, of course, my brother for emotional support. This network of support made a difficult time more manageable and reminded me that I didn’t have to go through it alone. Letting Go of Guilt There were moments of frustration—feelings of resentment not towards my father, but towards the situation itself. After years of building myself back up, I was again navigating the exhausting world of caregiving. Accepting those mixed emotions, and sharing them with my brother, helped me let go of the guilt and realize that feeling conflicted didn’t mean I wasn’t a good daughter or caregiver. Moving Forward, One Day at a Time As my father’s condition progressed, I tried to focus on the time we had together rather than the overwhelming demands of his care. With my brother’s help and the support of professional caregivers, I learned to prioritize what truly mattered. Though caregiving was still difficult, it became an act of love rather than a burden, and I began to move forward—one day at a time.