Good Grief

Bridget & Dad | 5th Birthday

May was once just another beautiful month... the onset of spring, the first BBQ holiday, Justin Timberlake memes, and usually when it finally starts to warm up in Chicago. But now, it marks the moment my life changed forever.

It’s the month I lost my dad. He passed last year on Mother's Day.

For the past year, not a day has gone by without me replaying what was happening “this time last year.” That thought has been in the back of my mind, everyday. Internal whispers of, What were we doing? How was he feeling? He was fine this day. He was tired this day. And so on.

And as life goes on, with every new milestone my now two and a half year old son reaches, my joy is followed by a little heartache and thought of, “Man, I wish my dad could see this.” 

They say time heals, and in some ways, it does. But other times, it feels like time is quietly pulling me farther and farther away from the moments I wish I could hold onto. With each passing day, the distance from my dad's physical presence grows, and that separation, the one I never asked for in the first place, aches in a way that time can’t always soothe.

Still, I’m trying to be intentional.

This month, I’m choosing to pause, to breathe, to grieve, and to honor the man who shaped so much of who I am. I’m choosing to travel. To spend time with people I love. To move through this grief in ways that make space for joy, laughter, sharing old memories, creating new ones, and shedding a few happy tears. Because despite the loss, what remains is gratitude. We are blessed to have had him. We are blessed to love him still.

We usually hear “good grief” as an expression of frustration. It’s something you mutter when you're overwhelmed or fed tf up. But lately, I’ve been thinking of it differently.

Good grief is a feeling that comes from deep love. It’s a feeling that reminds you just how much someone meant to you. It’s the ache that lives right next to laughter when you remember a funny moment shared. Or when you cry at a memory and then smile through the tears. Have you had those moments? I’ve had a lot of them in the last year.

So, this May, as we navigate and prepare for the first anniversary of my dad's passing, I’m embracing my grief, not just as pain, but as proof. Proof that love, in its purest form, never really dies. This is good grief.

XO,

BH