I remember sitting on my girlfriend’s floor and crying uncontrollably. My body shook, and when I tried to talk, I broke down again. We had had an intense talk, and somehow, my father had come up. At 21-years old, I hadn’t seen him in about 15 years.

As I cried, the realization washed over me that I would never have certain experiences in my life:

A dad throwing a ball to his son.
His teaching me how to ride a bike.
Giving me a high five for a good report card.
Helping me through a rough time after being bullied at school.

It’s funny on how easy it is to repress all those feelings, but eventually they work their way to the surface. A part of me just grieved at my loss and what I would never have.

Many years later, I had a similar experience. I stood in the room where my first child would be born, and I painted the ceiling. My wife had gone shopping, so I had time alone. On the radio, “Time to Say Goodbye” by Andrea Bocelli came on. My grandfather had just passed a few months earlier, and he loved that song.

I could have turned the radio off, but I let the song play, and I tried to sing to it. Again, I broke down and sobbed. I cried at missing my grandfather. In a matter of months, I lost my grandfather, two months later, my grandmother and a few months after that, my father-in-law.

The realization that my grandparents would never hold our child in their arms hurt.

On Christmas eve the year before, my wife and I had shared the good news with our family. We were having a child. Little did I know that we would lose three people in five months.

That ache and hurt just wrecked me.

I cried because I wanted my kid to meet my grandparents. I wanted to be able to say to them: “Your Nan and Pop took us in when we had nowhere to go. I didn’t have my father in my life, but my grandparents did the best they could. I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to be there for you.”

But wishes and dreams don’t make a reality.

Just as I couldn’t go back in time and rewrite my history so that I had a father in my life, I also couldn’t bring my grandparents back. I needed to grieve the loss of my Nan, Pop, and father-in-law right during the year that was supposed to be a year of joy. We had to attend three funerals with my wife being pregnant and my looking at her belly and wondering how this could all happen.

It was painful and took time to heal.

I share these two examples because I see them differently. I needed to grieve in both circumstances, but the healing process was radically different for each case.

For my father, I needed to do two things:

Let him go and self-parent myself. (I needed to become my own father and give myself the love that I never received from my father.)
Meet with my father and resolve my issues with him (that did happen, by pure luck, several years before I was married).

I needed to grieve about the loss of my childhood, but then also see the possibility of what my future would bring. Self-love and self-healing would enable me to overcome the past. It took time, therapy, ACOA sessions, reading, and lots of talks with those I love, but I’ve come to an understanding with my father.

I had the opportunity to ask him basic questions such as: “WHY?”

Why did you do X or Y? Why did you act that way?

His answers (and willingness to be honest with me) taught me a powerful lesson: He wasn’t the demon that I had made him out to be. He had made mistakes and was human. It allowed me to forgive him over time.

With the loss of my grandparents and father-in-law, it took time to heal the wounds. When our son came into the world, he looked a lot like my father-in-law as a baby. Hearing the laughter of your child is also a powerful balm to help you see the circle of life. One generation moves on, and another comes into the world.

In trying to be the best husband and father that I could be, those roles helped me better understand what my father and grandfather went going through as I was a boy. My faults have come out as I’m human, and I now have a better understanding of the patience and work that’s needed to be a good person in a family.

Before I could ever be a good parent to my son (and then to my daughter), I needed to be good to myself first.

And the first step on that road is to grieve what I never had as a kid. Growing up in an alcoholic/dysfunctional family, I often felt like we lived on Mars compared to other families. But what I didn’t understand as a kid is that no family is perfect. Every family has its problems.

What’s important is admitting mistakes, making amends, and actively working to better the situation.

Which brings me back to grieving: It’s okay to cry and feel sorrow. It’s okay to feel.

I took those emotions and then loved my inner child because I realized that I deserved it.

That realization became the spark that inspired me on my journey. To become a good parent, I needed to be good to myself first. It seems pretty basic until you stop and try it.

Like what you’ve read? Be sure to check out my other posts in my Let Go and Be Free blog.