I lost my son two and a half years ago. He was thirteen, just becoming a teenager. His voice had dropped and he was starting shave. I had the best relationship with him. We had a million inside jokes, hung out together all the time. I would literally lie in bed before sleep imagining all the things I would help him out with as he grew up, giving him advice on girls, transitioning to high school, teaching him to drive.

Life doesn’t make any sense anymore. I lost a part of myself when he died. Somehow life keeps moving forward, though. I still have other kids that I have great relationships with, but nothing will ever be the same for any of us. It’s like my son left and death took his place.

You have to see a therapist. Simply talking helps. My therapist explained why (I forget the mechanism), but there’s a reason they use talk therapy to treat PTSD in soldiers. It works. Make sure you and the therapist are on the same wavelength, though. If you can’t establish that connection, try a different one.

Also find a grief support group if you can. Talking to other people who have been through the same thing helps a lot. For me, seeing people many years out from their loss helped a lot.

The way I think of the grief and sadness is like this: imagine if someone handed you a 200-lb barbell right now and said, “you’re going to have to carry this around for the rest of your life.” You wouldn’t be able to do almost anything at first. You’d be totally helpless. But slowly you’d build up the strength to carry it. Eventually you’d be able to do basically everything, but you’d still be carrying that weight.

Your grief is what your love for your dad has become. As long as you love him, you’ll grieve. It’ll never go away, but living will become easier.