Balance, you must find.

Today, my dad died... or more accurately, on this day five years ago. He opted for Medical Assistance in Dying, which occurred on March 30th, 2021.   It's also my sister's birthday: an anniversary she has to carry with her every year. 

  I find those two things to be the focus of a lot of discussions regarding the death of a loved one.   Do we remember and celebrate the dead, or do we acknowledge and engage the living. 

It's become a theme in our Dead Dads Podcast.  A lot of guests want to spend time thinking about their dad, looking back at the themes of his life, digging through mistakes he or they might have made, celebrating some of his successes, and possibly staring deeply into the hole that exists where he used to be. Their gaze is focused on the rearview mirror, as if trying to figure out a reason that death had to take someone they care about, or maybe how to avoid it happening to them. 

But equally, some people are eager to move on, perhaps too much so. They leap forward into completing the necessary paperwork and steps to inter their dad, brushing up the remains of his life into boxes so they can switch focus to discussing the direction their life is going, the challenges that are presented to them in here and now.

 Focusing on their kids, the realities of now being a dad without a safety net, no longer able to access a resource that most likely was the primary source of instruction on the subject. For them, the past is the past. It can't be changed, and spending too long contemplating is wasting the life that they have left. 

Are either of these philosophies wrong? As I sit here 5 years on, I'm in a unique position to be speaking about death more often and with a wider assortment of people than some. 

If I think about this question,  a part of me wishes it were just a simple formula, like an Instagram health video.  

Spend 5 mins a day listening to 'Cats in the Cradle' by Harry Chapin and you'll be over your grief in a week. 

But, as is always the way, things seem to require a bit more balance.

  I was speaking with my mom very recently, and the topic of the anniversary of my dad's death came up. She mentioned that she was actually feeling a bit nostalgic for some of the times they had as a couple in the past, which, for her, is almost an admission of guilt.  Their marriage was troubled in later years, something they both spoke about to others often, made more difficult by changes in my Dad's mental health, and so when he passed,  I think she felt a sense of peace. 

The reality that she was now beginning to miss him seems to be new information to her, and I can feel that there is a push-pull.  

Should she let go of the challenges and unhappy feelings that accompanied much of their later years, which was a lot of the 'reality' of their relationship, and embrace some nostalgic recollection of early days when the love they felt for each other was clearer? If so, will this mean that she will need to grieve his death anew?

 Is she not being true to the memory of him by forgetting some of the bad days? 

This feels like a theme that many of our guests wrestle with, and to be honest, it's something my friend Roger and I discuss when we think about what our podcast should ultimately be.   

Are we a place for guys to come expound on the glory of their dad, where they can sit with people who understand inherently that there's no way to replace the loss and no one can truly explain why it had to happen, but it feels good just to be allowed to talk about him? 

Or are we a prescriptive guide, a location where guys come to listen to others share how they navigated the difficulties of arranging a burial, or wrapping up a Netflix subscription, focused on helping find a path forward for guys who feel stuck? 

  But, in the spirit of my generation, said in Yoda voice, to sound wiser. 

Both, you must probably do.