The cold months have vanished, and along with the warm weather and spring allergies, a new season of holidays are upon us. Of the 365 days of the year, most parents go woefully unrecognized for their servitude and dedication to their children. Besides their birthday, or maybe Parents’ Weekend, they each have one measly day to be showered with appreciation: Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. These Sundays are often full of joy, love and frequently an obnoxiously long brunch. This week, in anticipation of the celebration for those whom we truly owe everything to, I want to be sure to make room for the ones we have lost. 

The death of a parent is so tragic it is almost impossible to convey the depth and enormity of the grief that ensues, and largely endures for a lifetime. While Christmas, birthdays or even random Mondays are unbearable in their wake, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are particularly painful. Their absence is glaring, the lack of celebration deafening. This is, unfortunately, a feeling I know all too well. In 2009, after an eight-month battle with Stage IV Stomach Cancer, my father passed away, leaving his wife and three young girls behind. As I have had 16 years of Father’s Days since then, I am well acquainted with the grief that rolls in every third Sunday of June. Some years it’s louder than others, but it is my trusty companion nonetheless.  

In my three years at Villanova, I have met a shockingly large number of students well versed in the language of grief, particularly related to the death of a parent. It often feels ridiculous. How can this many young people be forced to carry such a burden? There isn’t a book for how to be a good griever. No set of instructions can tell us how to survive Mother’s Day without the soft smile of your mom, or Father’s Day without the booming laugh of your dad. Well, I don’t know everything about celebrating and remembering a parent, but I do know a whole lot. For those who may need them, here are my notes.

Honoring the parent you have 

While losing a parent is devastating for all involved, I am conscious that this loss is colossal for the parent who remains. They didn’t just lose their parenting partner, they lost the love of their life. Now, they must do their best to raise their children in the absence of their spouse. It is a near impossible task. Personally speaking, I have a hero of a mother, and I hope that many can share in this sentiment. I think it is incredibly important to acknowledge this, not just on Mother’s Day, but Father’s Day too. These days can serve as recognition of not just what you have both tragically lost, but what they have succeeded in doing despite this loss: raise you. Take care to remember that this feat of their perseverance, their strength and their love is worth celebrating. They have given the most they can possibly give, and then even more just to compensate for the love that has been lost.

For those that have lost two parents, or aren’t blessed with a remaining figure of support, I am sure the absence is even more excruciating. Maybe these days look more like honoring the family you do have, or possibly the found family that have taken you in as their own. And for those blissfully unaware of the realities I am referencing, become aware. Be the friend, cousin, colleague or stranger that remembers the loss others could be experiencing. Be the person who reaches out, offers a hand or just simply sits with you in your grief.  

Remembering the parent you lost 

The real doozy. My only advice is that you are better for remembering them; don’t hide from the grief. In a way, I feel honored that I loved, and was loved by someone so beautiful that their absence is so devastating. Use this day to truly honor their legacy; eat their favorite treat, listen to their favorite music, look at the photos you have left. My Father’s Day smells a lot like strange Irish candy, sounds like old rock music and frequently involves a White Sox-related activity (my dad was a Southside Irish Catholic). You can smile, you can cry; it is okay to do both. Just think of them. Nothing I can say, or anyone who nobly tries to provide comfort in times like these, will suffice. Unfortunately, unbearable things are often not easy to bear. But yet, we do. 

Whomever you have lost, grieving them is a crushingly beautiful thing. In moments when their absence is so glaringly obvious, let me be the one to remind you that there will be no fix. Let it be. Love them, remember them and remind yourself of the honor that this brings to them and all those who have bore their loss. 

So, happy early Mother’s Day and Father’s Day to those who we love, and to those we have lost.

Love you dad.