Grief

So long 2023!

| Mac

So long 2023!

I’m not sorry you’re gone! What. a. year…

I lost my paternal grandmother between Christmas and New Year’s of 2022. I lost my Dad in February of 2023, just two months later. Then I lost my job in the 3rd quarter of last year as well. I was impacted, like many, by the layoffs sweeping across big tech and consulting. Alas. What a year! 

As I pen this post, the first since the post mourning his death and attempting to articulate my grief and shock, I’m reminded of the time he and I spoke about our blogging routines. How blogging was a bit like putting a message in a bottle and throwing it into the sea. (You can check out his latest and last publishing spot here: https://jcampbell.substack.com).

I’m also reminded that beyond the tragedies, paramount amongst them losing my father… 2023 wasn’t all bad. There remains much to be grateful for.

My commitment to reprioritising my physical well being, alongside my mental well being, continues from its origins in 2022. April this year will be the 2 year anniversary of my 8k a day pledge. My marriage is happy and strong. My remaining family are well. I am grateful. 

And with a change in my employment status, after 23 years of continuous hustle, I’ve enjoyed  taking a breath and exploring my curiosities, avoiding a mad dash to the first employment opportunity that has come along. Resisting a sense of panic that I imagine could accompany unemployment. 

Taking this pause has been great, and it has also felt a little lonely. Especially with these winter months and dry January commitments as well… However, there are ways around it. I have a Wednesday evening study club with a friend, an occasional Tuesday night e-sports get together… and when spring and summer return the mountain biking trails and mates (humorously and accurately titled “old men on bikes”) will ride again. 

And so as 2023 becomes more distant and 2024 gears up, I move forward without a resolution or theme (… so far as we know… yet… ) Rather, I move forward with an openness to what may lie ahead. As well as gratitude for the reasons above… and… for you! The fine folk out there receiving these periodic messages in bottles over the last 13 years… thanks for reading, and more to come! Wishing you all the best in 2024 and beyond, however your 2023 may have wrapped up. 

Onwards! 

Star burst & heart break

| Mac

FUCK!

My beloved Dad/Father/Friend has passed away. His physical form is gone.

And I’m truly grieving for the first time, despite knowing loss previously in my close family.

Today (Sunday) was the day…

The day that you think you’re good. You’ve been back to work. You’ve made it the whole week. It’s been good to be busy.

It’s Sunday morning. You’re getting the coffee going. You think to yourself you should call your dad. And then you realise he’s gone. You’re not going to be able to make that call ever again.

Oooofffff.

You rein it in. You go about your day.

The evening has arrived. Your partner is in bed. You’re cleaning the kitchen. That was your primary childhood chore. It hits you. A wave…a Tsunami… It’s… a… fucking. Tsunami…

Such… GRIEF.

Gone too soon. So much left undone. Sooooo much left undiscussed.

Fuck.

And yet there’s light…

Right…?

The sun was out.

You’ve gone back to work.

You’ve been helping the family and friends. You’ve been supporting the process. He’d be proud. How he’d feel under the fucking circumstances is poor consolation.

I’m mad!

He should have taken better care of his health.

RRRRarrrrhhhhhH!!

That said, or perhaps more accurately expressed… I’m happy he lived happy and died himself.

Though I recognise him as imperfect… I wouldn’t change him. I wouldn’t trade what I had for more years with a different version of him.

And there’s something about peace with that tradeoff that makes the heartbreak all the more ferocious.

And it makes me so fucking mad.

And..

yet…

I know…

I’ll make it through.

I’m so grateful for him and how he made me… me. I’m grateful for the many years I had with him and the many I may have ahead without him. Despite knowing those years ahead now include missing him. Forever. Or at least my version of that word.

Here’s to the sunshine ahead and the bright lights who got us here and played a irrevocable role in making us who we are. We are all imperfect. Our species, our circumstances… imperfect. Yet there’s a cosmic poetry playing out before our very eyes. Here’s to those who taught us to see the light, whether it be in a dark night sky or the beautiful blue of day.