My Father Is Still Dead
It has been 3 years since my dad died. And this week has been one epic oceanic expression of grief.
Monday I came to find out that one of the 2 men my father held most dear in this world entered hospice.
I spoke to this man 2 weeks prior about coming to visit him to exchange stories and photos of him and my father. One of my intentions for this year is to connect with my father’s men. The men who he loved and who loved him. Those who share a longing for his presence. I had no idea that this man was deep in his own private battle. I had no idea how deep I placed my foot in my mouth 2 weeks prior when I said “I am so grateful that you kept working all these years instead of retiring like my dad. I saw how that affected his mental health and overall wellbeing.” To which he responded, “I know a lot of folks who retired and their health declined. And I love working.” Inside of all of that exchange was the truth that he was on his own brutal health journey.
And now he lay in hospice. Medicated to subdue his pain. Speechless.
And less than 2 hours later, I was in a Zoom session with an LA casting director for a big recurring role on a new hit network TV series. The ups and downs of an afternoon.
Tuesday I learned that this lovely man had died*. I was struck with a new grief. Never to hear his stories about my father. Another part of my beautiful dad was gone forever.
*I could say ‘transitioned’ or ‘ascended’ or some colorful, ethereal version of ‘ending’…but I believe saying ‘died’ is very important. Yes, we can use our language to reframe the day. Words like ‘died’ and ‘dead’ and ‘death’ have a way of honoring the truth that has some healing and closure wisdom around it.
It also turned out that my last filmed acting project aired that evening. It was an episode of TV where my character and his siblings and mom lose their patriarch. I found that interesting. This episode was supposed to air in November. And it kept getting pushed back. It could have been any week, but it happened to be this one. I played a character who is going through the grief of losing his dad. And here I am, experiencing it again. This 3rd annual wave.
This past Wednesday, at my men’s team meeting, I needed to outpour my heart into the nape of a man’s neck. I unloaded all my anger and sorrow once again. It is a beautiful men’s team of much older men. I stand as the baby of the group at 45 years young. I know I need to have my feelings released and witnessed and I know how to get there. They function from the pedagogy of ‘fix the uncomfortable feelings’ and ‘question question question’ until we get to some ‘root cause or wound.’ I prefer to just be allowed to feel. And isn’t grief worthy of being allowed to just be? (My answer is YES).
I have been practicing long enough at how to enter my feelings, both professionally for my acting work,my men’s and grief work, and personally in my partnership with my wife, fathering of my son, and my friendships. So I know how to navigate the not so safest spaces or the clumsy attempts to solve my pain, and still get my pain out into the light.
That is not the case for most.
And not to say I am brilliant at it. I spent a ton of the week numbing out watching a violent TV series about men murdering each other all in the name of brotherhood. A septic depiction of masculinity. Just what I was craving after being so heart exposed, a 200ccs dose of Numb. And ‘numb’ is a vital feeling. Numb allows us to take breaks and recharge after periods of big feeling.
I am no expert at your grief. I am only the expert at mine. YOU are the only expert at YOURS.
What I am…is tapped in. I feel deeply. And I can see into others to foster the excavation of what is moving through their hearts. I create spaces for others to release the burdens or big emotions. I am here to serve the sacred workings of the heart. I am here to serve you.
Jonathan Greenfield, Heartspace Hero