52 things i've learned in 52 weeks without my Dad

 t/w death and grief 

                                                                         

17.01.2025


    Time is merely a social construct and literally thinking, the distinction between my Dad dying 11 months ago vs 12, shouldn’t make too much of a difference. Yet the approach to the one year anniversary of his death or the year since I last saw him last, has come with this weight that has been difficult to shake. 


To be fully transparent, I wrote this list a couple of months ago when I must have been having a pretty good week, because reading it back it really is laced with the undertones of optimism I always strive for but which I’m definitely not feeling now. So as the dreaded time of year is fast approaching, it seems inauthentic to publish something that upbeat without explaining the context of this time where I feel so consumed by grief. 


Something I’ve found frustrating this last year is how immensely complex grief is, and at times I've found the emotions impossible to decipher as not every feeling can be explained or even identified.


However, some feelings I have made sense of that might explain the range of emotions that have come with this sensitive time of year, include the anxiety I’ve felt from a sense of reversion to a state where my nervous system was completely rewired. Or the stark reality check that it’s been over a year since I’ve hugged my Dad combined with the knowledge, as it’s fully sunk in, that I never will again. Or the fear that with increased passing of time comes a certain pressure to move on or get over it. Worry that the full pop of the grief bubble will heighten feelings of loneliness. A sense of exhaustion after being pushed to my emotional limits this year. And last but definitely not least, a classic, overwhelming sadness because I just really really miss him. 


I’m definitely guilty of anticipating grief, and with all the milestones this last year I’ve unintentionally built them up in my head during the lead up to such dates, and have found that lots of the days themselves aren’t as bad as I expected. For example, on Father’s Day I didn’t end up thinking too much about my Dad. Or is it weird to admit that despite dreading the day, I danced in the shower the morning of and ended up having so much fun at his memorial? 


Grief is strange and unpredictable, and the more I’ve understood that, the easier I’ve found being able to turn a bad day into a good one; something which I used to find impossible so that feels like a nice bit of growth. I fully expected pathetic fallacy this January but despite the tough emotions, I’ve made time for doing things and seeing people I love and have still smiled and laughed a lot. Times like this are reminders that the small things are really the big things, and simply going on a run, lighting a nice candle, or even taking vitamin supplements even if you have no idea what the benefits really are, just to invest in yourself really do make the days even one 1% brighter. 



    I remember one of my first thoughts I had after finding out Dad died was the desperation of wanting a time machine, where I could fast forward all the shit and get to a point where my life had somewhat grown around it. Or some kind of grief handbook on what to expect to prepare me for the months to come. And finally, for someone to simply tell me that we were going to be okay.


52 weeks later, this is that; a list of things to the newly-bereaved petrified 22 year old me. I really didn’t know what I was in for and although it has at times been worse than I could have ever imagined, it brings me so much pride that I can write this now. Not as a list of warnings, but as a list of hope.


  1. Don’t put pressure on yourself to fully understand what you’re feeling, grief is sometimes bigger than you and some things can’t always be explained. 

  2. Go back to basics: don't to forget to shower, drink water, eat well, get fresh air, and connect with loved ones. 

  3. Your body does everything it can to protect you, listen to it. 

  4. Just because something doesn’t affect you right now, it doesn’t mean in time it never will. 

  5. Tragic and beautiful things can co-exist. 

  6. The reason you don’t recognise who you are right now is because you’re accessing tools you never knew you had. 

  7. You’re about to become a lot funnier. 

  8. Try to let someone know if you’re feeling sad in a moment. 9/10 times you will feel some relief. 

  9. Spoiler alert: talking about them in the present tense to people who don’t know won’t bring them back to life. 

  10. There really are silver linings and you don't need to feel guilty for treasuring them.

  11. Coping mechanisms get a bad rep- if you want a beer or tub of Ben and Jerry’s just do it it's not that deep. 

  12. You don’t become a train wreck.

  13. You might feel it at times, but you are not alone. 

  14. You are so much stronger, more resilient, and more capable than you realise. 

  15. You are going to form amazing relationships and connections with people who understand what you’re going through. 

  16. You will develop a fear of losing loved ones but it will give you a great perspective.

  17. People will fall short and say the wrong thing. 

  18. Try not to resent people, you too spent 22 years of your life not understanding. 

  19. You’re not flakey or bad on your phone, you’re grieving. 

  20. You have incredible friends that would do anything to try and help and understand, let them. 

  21. Christmas time sucks. 

  22. Therapy rocks.

  23. Be kind, you truly never know what someone is going through. 

  24. Podcasts and reading will bring you so much comfort.

  25. People’s lives go on which is difficult.

  26. Life’s too short to eat bad quality eggs. 

  27. Suppression can become an art, try not to get too good at it. 

  28. Heartbreak and grief are inextricably linked; a lethal duo but not a permanent one. 

  29. Music always makes you feel better. 

  30. Very little good can be gained from comparing your old life to your new one. 

  31. You will grieve very differently to your family at different times. 

  32. Spend money on things that make you richer; less takeaways and pointless pints, more events and travel. 

  33. Your grief is constantly evolving with you.

  34. If the only thing you take away from a bad patch of grief is the knowledge that you will come out of it again, that is enough. 

  35. Solo travelling will be the best thing you've ever done. 

  36. Things don’t always get easier, but you always get stronger. 

  37. Some reminders of them will feel like a gut punch, some will feel really nice (time has helped with that).

  38. Even though they physically die, the love and relationship doesn’t. 

  39. Everything passes; the good and the bad. You will feel okay again. 

  40. Your grief is not a negative thing, just a thing that you live with. 

  41. You will feel better after a walk 100% of the time. 

  42. Take more photos, write more postcards, go on your phone less, dance weirder, hug tighter, always thank the bus driver, appreciate food more, and tell people you love them (maybe not the bus driver). 

  43. Don’t feel guilty if you’re thinking of him less, it’s impossible to be sad all the time. 

  44. The pain doesn’t get less painful, just more manageable. 

  45. You don’t have baggage, just some more life experience. 

  46. You really love to write; like father like daughter. 

  47. Every positive big life event from now on will feel bittersweet and be laced with sadness. 

  48. Sadness isn’t always a negative thing.

  49. You’ve got through all the ‘firsts’ even though there were times when you thought you wouldn’t.

  50. Not everything happens for a reason, but things can still work out. 

  51. You will be okay. 

  52. You should be very proud of yourself, I’m sure Dad will be too. 


Thank you to everyone who has got me through this year, especially Mum, Sam and Joe. 


Lots of love, Ruby

:)




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