Control Is An Illusion

One of the most significant shifts in my perspective was realizing that—despite our efforts to steer our lives—we are ultimately at the mercy of fate.

For every dream I had for my son, every moment spent protecting, guiding, and creating memories, sending him off for cremation was never part of my vision. For all the advice I gave and the choices I restricted in hopes of leading him toward a responsible path, had I known he would not see his 22nd birthday, I would have acted differently.

That is the essence of life; we often assume there’s an abundance of time.

In the grand scheme of things, we are but fleeting, small beings on this vast planet, and for many, that realization can be frightening.

Yet, therein lies the beauty.

Recognizing that our destinies are not solely in our control and that we need not pressure ourselves to achieve monumental feats or obsess over discovering our purpose allows us to relax and appreciate the journey. Being adaptable can contribute just as much, if not more, to the world.

Dream big, but remain flexible. Life will undeniably throw unexpected challenges your way.

And that’s perfectly fine.

I feel confident in stating that no one possesses all the answers, but what resonates with me is the notion that life is meant to be lived fully. It’s acceptable to simply enjoy the ride and see where it leads.

People Should Be Reminded That They Will Die Soon

Most of us navigate life without truly acknowledging its fragility. We rarely wake up contemplating how many days remain. Instead, we often rise with a mental checklist, and if fortunate, we might have something exciting on the horizon.

Living in the present is something we often hear we should practice, yet it demands considerable mental effort.

By day’s end, we mark another day on our calendars, and before we realize it, we’re cleaning out closets and stumbling upon old calendars from years past. Recently, I uncovered one from 2009 when my kids were between the ages of eight and eighteen. As I flipped through the filled pages, it felt as though I was peering into the life of a stranger.

I barely recalled any of it. Along with the thought of how did I even manage that? came a more pressing question:

How many years did I miss?

“Life gets mighty precious when there’s less of it to waste.” ~Bonnie Raitt

Since the loss of my son, I have come to regret not allowing him to pursue his passions instead of imposing my own desires on him. My outlook on life has transformed.

When questioned about my seemingly nonsensical choices (like quitting a stable job, selling my home, and giving away my belongings to travel), I simply respond:

Because I’ll be dead soon.

Life is too fleeting, and I refuse to be consumed by trivial matters that won’t matter in the end.

We Should Embrace Our Pain

Our instinctive response to pain is often to flee from it. Many in mourning try to cope by drowning their emotions in alcohol, drugs, or other unhealthy distractions to evade the heart-wrenching reality of their loss. Such behaviors can complicate the grieving process and lead to deeper emotional turmoil later.

Emotions exist for a reason, and each one exists in relation to another. We need to experience the negative to truly appreciate the positive.

In the weeks following my son’s death, I vaguely recall installing wainscoting in my living room, a rum and coke by my side while listening to Pink Floyd. The measuring and cutting provided a perfect distraction, even if the drinks were not the wisest choice.

Later, while out for lunch with a friend, I met a man who organized fundraisers for families affected by dementia and Alzheimer’s. Upon learning of my loss, he offered the best advice:

Embrace the suck.

He encouraged me to allow myself to feel the sadness rather than evade it.

I began researching coping mechanisms for bereaved parents and ordered several books on Amazon. The common thread among them was the idea of “sitting with your grief”—permitting yourself to experience whatever emotions arise without seeking diversion.

When I started to apply these practices, allowing myself to cry when the feeling struck, I discovered that this release often led to brighter days.

We generally possess everything we need to thrive in this world—physically and emotionally.

If we deny negative emotions their moment in the spotlight, they can accumulate and engulf us. An even worse fate than living with grief is losing our capacity for joy.

Grief Isn’t Linear

Forget what you’ve learned about the stages of grief.

Most people are familiar with Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s psychological models. While her writings contributed to reducing the stigma around death, these stages were initially designed to describe the experiences of terminally ill patients—not those mourning the loss of a loved one.

Grief is anything but linear. In fact, that “line” resembles more of a chaotic scribble.

Over the past four years, I have traversed all five stages multiple times and in varying sequences.

On days when I feel uplifted, I can suddenly be hit with an overwhelming wave of anger while picking out almond butter at the store. Just when I think I’ve reached acceptance, I may wake up to the stark reality of my son’s absence as fresh as it was on day one.

Often, grief intrudes during life’s happiest moments, a stark reminder that my son isn’t there to share them.

Within my support group, I’ve met parents and siblings who, weighed down by guilt, refuse to seek joy in their lives, while others resolve to live vibrantly in honor of their loved ones.

While numerous psychological theories exist regarding grief, there is no definitive right or wrong way to grieve—no set timeline. Each individual’s journey is as unique as their fingerprint.

I’ve dedicated my path to making my son proud, embracing experiences he can no longer have.

Emotion Is The Greatest Catalyst of Art

Art emerges from emotion. History’s greatest artists often created their finest works during periods of heartache, channeling their sadness, anger, and unrequited love into various forms of artistic expression.

Four years into my journey, I often find myself surprised when a post or article I wrote appears in my social media memories. Since I have little recollection of that first year after the accident, it feels like reading the thoughts of another person.

Holy crap. I wrote that? That’s good stuff.

Harness that sadness. Utilize that pain. Sit down and write—even if your tears obscure the screen. Paint. Compose music. Whatever your chosen outlet, let your emotions fuel your creativity. You’ll eventually marvel at the beauty that arises from your suffering.

My New Normal

There were many unexpected aspects of the grieving process, but the most significant revelation was the new perspective that has allowed me to appreciate life in the after more than I did in the before, even in the absence of my son.

Grief doesn’t vanish. I won’t simply get over it. By creating space for the emotions that demand my attention and shifting my focus toward positivity, I’ve found that the pain has softened over time. Joy has crept back into my life, and together with grief, they have formed a unique dance that is now part of the new me.

I may not embody the tough, “no excuses” person I once was, but I have transformed into someone with deeper compassion, acceptance, and gratitude for the people around me. I believe that for every negative experience, a positive one of equal significance exists, and it’s worth staying around to see what unfolds.

Despite the void left by my son’s passing, life remains beautiful. I’ve discovered that I am a survivor, that I can speak publicly with confidence, and that I’m quite adept at installing wainscoting.

Ben would be proud.