Letter to Zelda

Dear Zelda,

I'm a stranger to you. A woman just about the same in age and probably little else in common. Well, except for one detail. One major moment that you and I (and I’m sure many others) unfortunately share. A piece of ourselves that we never wanted to lose and would give up any bond that we may form because of its absence. But we can’t. Change, in this instance, doesn't exist. Peace can almost seem unobtainable at times. So, instead I offer you a glimpse inside the empty hole that lays inside me, in an impossible hope that it lessens the one in you. I provide as many condolences as I can possibly give and what little advice from my own experience that I may have.

My father died when I was twenty. Cancer buried him in pain so deep that a hospice nurse took away the pain with morphine. And that is what killed him. I had time to say goodbye, but I also had too many days to see the pain. I can't express the hopelessness and confusion of wanting someone to stop hurting but not wanting to except the solution they choose. I know, it’s not the same and I would be a god-damn hypocrite if I told you I understood. I don’t. And neither does anyone else so don't ever let them cheapen your grief. Don't ever let them take that from you, because as much as it is horrible and excruciating, it is yours to bare, yours to come out of, and yours alone to heal from. You deserve the choice to cry or scream. To stay silent or talk until your throat burns. For me? It’s been pretty close to every extreme you can think of. There is no shame in grief. Not ever. 

The world will mourn your father and I’m sure with the way the world works, things will be said. Don't let them get to you. Don't follow their lead. You are the one who can control the memories you have and the view you hold. I pray that you find a shield in your mind to avoid the darkest words. The way of death is always tragic, always heartbreaking and always leaves someone behind. Let your own voice of the truth be the loudest in your heart.

I'm not going to tell you it gets better because I’m not a liar. It doesn’t. Losing a father is probably one of the hardest things I've ever been through. I don’t cry everyday or blame anyone. It doesn't come up every minute of every hour. It’s only the times when I get a new job, or when I’m going to be married. When I attend and then graduate from college. After I've made some big decision that it hits me. That I feel all the things I felt the first time I realized he isn't here. No, it doesn't get better but life does go on. Good things have come to me and I can absolutely say I'm happy. I miss my father dearly but I love him even more and in doing so it gives me more strength to continue in all of my dreams because I know that it’s what he has always meant for me to do.

Friend, sister in tragedy, companion in the love for our fathers. I give to you my deepest and most heartfelt love. Because, I’ve been into the pit and emerged. I will trudge through that hole for the rest of my life and right next to that hole I hold a light for you. Everyone needs to know dawn is on its way, when they are struggling through their darkest nights.

- A Friend