Grief: A Father's Journey
A message about the grief journey of a loss father
The immediate grief that comes from losing a child is one of the most profound feelings in any person's life. It can be overwhelming, debilitating, but as a father, a husband or partner, there's someone else we feel we have to take care of... the mother.
We put our feelings on the back burner to help our wife, our partner make it through the worst times in our lives. We lost our child too, and that is a hole in our heart and soul that is never truly going to heal, and we will never be the same men we were. However, growing up, we are told to "take it like a man," "boys don't cry." We are encouraged to be manly, to get angry, not sad!
But that is absolutely horrible advice.
I want to bring up a wrestler, Macho Man Randy Savage. For those of you who don't know who he was, he was a huge wrestling star for WWF (now WWE) and WCW in the '80s and '90s. He was big, he was tough, he was like every other wrestler during that era, an over-exaggeration of the gimmick he was playing.
He had an interview with Arsenio Hall. I would like to share a quote from that interview. Arsenio asked if he, the Macho Man, had ever cried.
This is his response: "It's OK for macho men to show every emotion available right there, you know. Because I've cried a thousand times. I'm gonna cry some more. But, I've soared with eagles and slithered with the snakes and everywhere in between and I'm gonna tell you something right now: there's one guarantee in life and that is that there are no guarantees, yeah. And…understand this: nobody likes a quitter, nobody said life was easy. So if you get knocked down, take the standing eight count, get back up and fight again and you're a macho manic, dig it?"
So, with all this in mind, what is a father's journey through grief? I wish I had a simple answer for you.
It's complicated. Not only are you grieving, but you are also still doing your best to be the rock for your partner. It can be hard to show just how much you're hurting when your partner is at their lowest. As a man, you want to take care of them. That is noble, but you have to take care of yourself.
It is so easy to get lost in the weeds of making sure your partner is okay, helping her recover both physically and emotionally from this profound loss. Your own grief will catch up to you. That pain you've been trying to suppress will find a way out.
Don't fight it. Don't force it into anger. Let the tears flow. And if you can't, if you feel numb or quiet, that's fine too.
If you're angry, I understand. You lost your child; of course you're angry. It's unfair, it's cruel, and you might hate the world for what happened. I did, and that's okay too. But what I want to really emphasize is that it's okay to feel both sadness and anger, not just replace being sad with anger. Just don't lose yourself to your anger. Find a healthy way to let that anger out, a rage room or a punching bag. Take a walk in the woods, give the world your best war cry. I know it's hard for men to cry, and everyone handles things differently. But if you feel like you're not supposed to cry, I'm telling you, it's okay.
It is okay to cry. Boys cry. Men cry. Emotions do not make you weak. Showing your partner you are vulnerable doesn't make you weak. I can't stress this enough.
So, what can you do? How do you navigate this?
Well, I really got thinking about grief and pain, it is like you're standing on the shore, and the grief is the ocean. Some days, there are storms, and that ocean is violent, the waves crashing hard and constant. The early days, weeks, months... they can be just like this. You feel that you can't make it, that the next wave will take you out to sea...
Experience this pain. Truly let yourself feel it, embrace the moment, and cry. Cry as much as you have to. Scream, moan, sob. Let the moment knock you down, and like Macho Man said, take that eight count and stand back up.
As time goes on you will find it is easier to weather the little waves of grief but every once in a while, a storm will rage, and those rough waves will come back. It's okay. It's been eight years since my son passed away, and I still have moments. I'll hear a song or see something on TV, and those waves will come crashing down on me.
When this pain is new, raw, and fresh, it is so tempting to turtle. It's tempting to withdraw and, in some cases, try to mask your pain by overindulging. Your friends are your friends for a reason; lean on them, talk to them. We, as men, need to normalize openly talking about our feelings. Find support groups, go to therapy; you need to take care of yourself just like how you're taking care of your partner.
If you're like me, the hardest thing to do is to be open with your partner about your feelings. When you look at your partner and see her crying and missing your child, it seems impossible to cry too, to share your pain with her when she is so clearly hurting. I still struggle with this to this day.
After eight years, I still struggle with sharing my pain with her when we're both sad because I don't want to burden her with my pain and would rather try and support her.
We both lost a child, so why would my pain be a burden? Why do I still feel this need to appear like this rock she can support herself with when, in reality, I'm standing on that same shore she is?
I don't know. I'll be totally honest: I have no idea.
I'm not a rock; I'm a person, a father who lost his son. I will say, from my experience, when I do share my grief and pain along with my wife, I feel closer to her, and I believe she feels the same. We're both on that shore, supporting each other when those waves crash down all around us. Lean on your partner because they are going to lean on you. Lean on your friends... find something constructive to help you through this.
I'm not saying a father's journey is harder; it's just very different. It can be so easy to get caught up in trying to help your partner that you neglect your own needs and emotions. I know it's not easy in the moment, but I cannot stress the importance of taking time for yourself.
As a father, you are not alone. The attention might be focused on your partner, but she looks to you. If you're not taking care of yourself, you can't take care of her. And you do not need to 'take care' of her. Don't put that burden on yourself when it takes so much energy just to hold yourself together.
Take care of each other. Use support networks. For me, it was getting online with some friends and playing a few rounds of Halo or Super Smash Bros. Sometimes we'd just joke around; other times, I'd share what I was feeling. With my friends, I never had to preface that I wasn't looking for advice because, honestly, unless you've experienced something of this magnitude, it's really hard to give advice. I'm fortunate in that my close friends listened, offered words of comfort, and let me talk because I just needed to get it out.
I realize not every friend group has that dynamic, and not every guy is comfortable with being vulnerable, so find something that works for you.
When my wife asked me to write this, I really thought I'd have a more focused message, but I don't. I'm writing what I wish someone had said to me all those years ago and writing what I know I should do but often don't.
So, to wrap this up, I truly hope my words will help someone out there. As a father, your feelings matter, you are not alone, and it is okay to cry. Take each day at a time, keep your feet firmly planted on that shore, and do your best to weather every storm that will come.
Guest written by Tom Polizzi, Charlie's Dad
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The journey through loss and grief is never easy, but no one should walk it alone.
Charlie Polizzi's Warrior of the Angels Foundation is dedicated to raising awareness, supporting families, and funding research. At Charlie Polizzi's Warrior of the Angels, families can find resources, education, and a community that understands the heartbreak and the hope of CDH.
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