A sweet and gentle soul is how I would describe my dad; he was my best friend. Grief is something I thought I understood until he passed away last July. You can never truly understand what it’s like to grieve for a parent until it becomes a raw, lived experience. Nothing could have prepared me for the depth of pain, the tidal waves of emotion, and the sheer exhaustion that came with it. Some days, I felt completely numb; others, the weight of the loss was crushing.
I’d always thought losing my mother in infancy would somehow prepare me for this. I was wrong. The grief for my dad was a different beast altogether, far more profound. I was a typical daddy’s girl and incredibly close to my dad, he was my rock, my confidant, both mother and father rolled into one, so navigating my way through this loss was exceptionally difficult. The grief I had for my mum was very different, and on reflection, nothing could have prepared me for losing my dad.
The night that I got the phone call, at 12.53am to be precise, informing me that he has gone into cardiac arrest, I felt as though I'd been gut-punched, and that my world had imploded. Panic surged, a frantic, desperate need to reach him. I could feel the anxiety kicking in. I had to somehow get out of bed, get ready, and get to the hospital to meet my family so we could say goodbye to our darling father. I scrambled, a blur of motion, to the hospital, the question echoing in my mind: 'How do I exist in a world without him?' That thought alone triggered an anxiety attack, a physical manifestation of my fear. My heart was racing, and I felt as though I was going to faint.
As a holistic therapist, I’ve guided countless individuals through their healing. People often assume therapists possess greater self-control and resilience, but personal loss transcends professional roles. When grief struck me personally, it had me in a chokehold, it was messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal.
This is my story, not as a professional, but as a daughter navigating the labyrinth of loss. This isn’t about “moving on,” but about learning to carry grief while honouring the memory of a loved one.
Understanding Grief: More Than Just Sadness
Grief is a complex tapestry of emotions. It was a constant ache, a physical weight in my chest, and an inexplicable exhaustion. Noone prepares you for the identity crisis that comes with loss, it changes the way that you see the world and how you see yourself.
Grief doesn’t care what you’re doing and where you are, it’ll ambush you on some random Thursday morning, perhaps, when you least expect it; small reminders like his Homer Simpson mug, which I bought him for Father’s Day and which he used religiously for his morning coffee would trigger me. Hearing ‘I Heard It Through the Grapevine’, one of his favourite Marvin Gaye songs, just the other day on an Instagram post, sent me reeling.
Grief is not linear; it has no timeline, no “right” way.
The Multifaceted Nature of Grief
Before, I didn’t grasp the diverse forms grief could take:
Anticipatory Grief: Knowing he was unwell and preparing myself for the worst didn’t make it easier when the time came.
Normal Grief The familiar stages—anger, numbness, sorrow—played out in unpredictable waves.
Collective Grief : Sharing the loss with my family intensified the pain, a shared burden.
I even felt anger at myself. I had envisioned that my dad's death would leave me a complete wreck, overwhelmed by uncontrollable weeping and incapable of functioning. However, reality proved far more complex. I was much calmer than I expected, even my family were surprised at how well I was coping. I started second-guessing my emotions, asking myself “am I grieving wrong?”.
It wasn’t until I returned home that the floodgates opened. Living alone meant I had the solitude to retreat and process my grief. One evening, whilst cooking, the emotions erupted. I cried the whole night, a cathartic release that left me strangely lighter. It had been held back for too long, seeking its natural release.
Recognising the diverse faces of grief helped me develop greater compassion for myself.
How Grief Affected My Mind, Body, and Spirit
Emotionally: A Rollercoaster I Didn’t Expect
A relentless rollercoaster. Some days brought deep sorrow; others, numbness. I felt guilt for laughing, for feeling okay. 'As a Functional Nutritionist, was there more I could have done for him?' was a question I frequently asked myself.
I was also consumed by anger at the world. I recall returning to the office, hearing my colleagues' laughter and giggling, and feeling a surge of anger within me. 'Why are they laughing? What's so funny? Why aren't they sad like me?' I felt utterly alone at that moment. It was also at that moment that I realised the world doesn't grieve when you are grieving; life simply goes on. That realisation was a bitter pill to swallow.
Beyond my own grief, I carried a constant worry for my step-mum, my sister, and my brother. Were they alright? How were they coping? What if they weren't?
Some days, I'd genuinely forget what had happened, just going about my business, and then BAM! the stark reality hit: he was never coming back.
I had to remind myself that all these emotions were valid. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, and healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
Physically: My Body Held the Pain Too
Grief didn’t just affect my emotions; it manifested physically in my body too. When you lose someone, you love, it doesn’t merely break your heart; it disrupts your entire being. I experienced constant fatigue, insomnia, and brain fog, as if my mind simply refused to function. My shoulders and chest felt heavy, as though I were physically bearing the weight of my emotions. Grief triggers a biochemical response, flooding the body with cortisol, throwing the body into stress mode. Grief doesn’t just live in our minds, it’s stored in our muscles, nervous system, and gut. Your body grieves with you.
Energetically: A Blocked Root and Heart Chakra
My training as a crystal healer and EFT practitioner had ingrained in me that emotional energy can become blocked, and stagnant in the body. I felt this directly, as my root and heart chakras constricted. This was understandable; my dad represented my security and stability, both linked to the root chakra, and his absence left me lost.
That’s when I turned to holistic healing, not as a practitioner, but as someone in need.
The Holistic Tools That Helped Me Heal
EFT Tapping: A Lifeline in My Darkest Moments
Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT), also known as tapping was my lifeline. It helped me process the emotions that felt stuck in my body.
A Simple EFT Sequence That Helped Me:
I started by tapping on the side of my hand, saying:
“Even though I feel this grief, I deeply and completely accept myself.”
Then, I moved through the EFT points (eyebrow, side of the eye, under the eye, under the nose, chin, collarbone, and top of the head), acknowledging my feelings:
“This sadness… this heaviness in my chest… I allow myself to feel it and release it.”
Tapping through the points, acknowledging the pain, brought a sense of release.
Crystal Healing: Finding Comfort in Energy Work
I previously practiced Crystal Reiki, offering it to my clients. In the year preceding his passing, my dad frequently requested Reiki from me, finding immense comfort in its practice. Even during his final days in the hospital, when his strength was waning and speech was difficult, he continued to ask for Reiki healing. At that time, I had ceased practicing Crystal Healing and Reiki on clients, limiting my practice to personal use for myself, family, and friends. On the night my dad passed, I was sending him distant healing. Unexpectedly, this experience rekindled my connection to crystal healing, a practice I had set aside.
Consequently, crystals once again became integral to my healing ritual. The crystals that really resonated with me through my grief were:
Rhodonite – Provides strength and comfort through grief.
Pink Amethyst – My favourite crystal, it's so gentle and nurturing.
Hematite – To ground me when I felt anxious and lost in sadness.
I carried them in my pocket and held them during meditation, which brought me a lot of comfort.
Final Thoughts: Learning to Live with Grief
Healing isn’t forgetting. I miss Dad every day. Grief is about carrying love and loss in equal measure. You don’t just lose the person you love, you lose a piece of yourself too. I’ve changed, a piece of me has gone too.
Some days are still hard but I have found way to help me navigate the pain. It is an ever-evolving process. Grief doesn't truly vanish, but we learn to integrate it into our lives
If you’re grieving, know you’re not alone. Be gentle with yourself. Allow yourself to feel whatever arises, for your grief is valid, and so is your journey towards healing.
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