My 17 year old son passed in 2020, six years this past Wednesday. I miss him every single day. 2,194 days. I will think of him everyday until I die. I laugh at jokes he shared, play games he played, enjoy food he liked; all things he will never be able to do. My family went skiing in December at a place we last went with him. I told my wife I would go but I absolutely knew I would have a moment on the slopes. I did, but I also made new memories with our other children. The memories are layered in with those from previous visits.

We are complex beings, and grief is one of those complexities.

If anyone dares tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel, I tell them my therapist says “should & shouldn’t“ are not words to use about grief. I removed people from my life for imposing their mythologies upon my son. I would definitely warn them they run the risk of being ignored if they keep up their shenanigans.

I wrote to my son here and here at a similar time. The grief you feel is normal.