Flying Back to Grief

Getting on a plane and flying back to Toronto for the first time was an experience. I slept through most of the almost 5-hour direct flight, but as we got closer, familiar feelings grew stronger. Anxiety and breathlessness flooded my body as we approached Pearson International Airport. It was like reliving the reality that I wasn’t going to see my father alive again. As the plane touched the runway, a tear slipped from my eye. I took a deep breath, and my mind became overwhelmed with memories. The echo of the phone call from that Friday afternoon rang in my ears: “Jason, your dad just passed away.”

Walking back into the house was much the same. I didn’t find him in his usual chair. He wasn’t hiding away in his office. He wasn’t in the back, tending to his garden. He wasn’t in the kitchen, preparing that “get-home” meal. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere.

So, this morning, I journey to where I left you—six feet under, in a box. Your spirit has ascended to the heavens, but I sit here with your feeble frame that gave you so much pain. I miss you, Dad.

“Loved with a love beyond all telling and missed with a grief beyond all tears.”

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Takeaways on Navigating Grief

1. Grief Revisits the Familiar with Unfamiliar Feelings

Returning to places where memories were made often feels like stepping into a different world. The anxiety and breathlessness I felt as the plane descended weren’t just physical reactions—they were my heart bracing for the reality of loss all over again. Grief doesn’t just live in the past; it shows up in the present, reshaping the familiar into something unrecognizable. Walking through my father’s house—searching for him in his usual spots—was a sobering reminder that absence can feel just as present as presence. Allowing yourself to feel the ache without rushing past it is essential. Acknowledging the void doesn’t diminish the love—it honors it.

2. The Duality of Presence and Absence

Standing at my father’s grave, I recognized a profound truth: though his spirit has moved on, his presence lingers in my heart. There’s a sacred tension between knowing that he is gone and still feeling him everywhere—in memories, in familiar places, and in quiet moments of reflection. This duality makes grief so complex. It’s about learning to hold on and let go at the same time. Though his physical presence is gone, his impact remains deeply rooted in who I am and how I navigate life.

Grief is not about finding closure but about discovering how to live with the open wound. It’s about making peace with the tension between loss and legacy, absence and memory. Give yourself permission to feel the heaviness without guilt. Honor your loved ones by carrying forward the lessons they left behind—lessons about family, faith, and resilience. When grief feels overwhelming, remind yourself that it’s just proof of how deeply you loved and were loved in return.