I remember being told that, “Death is part of life” many years ago when I was mourning the loss of a loved one. It’s amazing how devastating the passing of a loved one can be isn’t it. I remember it nearly taking the life out of me when my father passed away while at the same time being the motivating force that changed the course of my life forever.

You see, at that time I had been on a fixed income for many years due to a severe seizure disorder, clinical depression and alcoholism. I was dependent on my parents well into my adulthood for a variety of reasons. The death of my father not only increased all of my depressive symptoms, but it evoked a sense of desperation and motivation to change my life like no other tragic event had ever done before.
Denial was my initial response like so many of us. You know the thought, “Oh no, it can’t be.” Or, “I can’t believe he’s gone.” I could believe that he was gone but not at that moment. I wasn’t ready. It takes a long time to be ready to accept this.

My father owned a silver Cadillac and for almost a year after he had passed away I would stop to wave at him as an automatic response when I saw a silver Cadillac going down the street. I almost went running to see where he was going or if he could stop so we could have lunch together, only to be brought back to the painful reality that it wasn’t him. I was so volatile and would fluctuate from happiness to sadness and even tears all within a couple of seconds.
As I watched my father deteriorate over time, another reality had set in; that he was not immortal and even He would die. It’s amazing the image we have of our parents and that they are more powerful than life or death itself, and would live forever. In communicating with people over the years about the loss of their parent, many agreed that for certain as a child they thought this, and some thought like this even into their adult years. We may know intellectually that this is not true, but the image of the parent is stronger until time passes and reality sets in.

The desperation and motivation from dad’s death evoked enough fear in me to decide that I had to change my life. I wanted to honor him so that his death would not be in vain. You see, when my father was dying, he made me promise him that I would do everything in my power to earn at least an Associate Degree at our local Community College of Allegheny County. Though I had barely passed my GED test 13 years earlier, I entered CCAC not believing that I would succeed, but I had promised him that I would make an honest effort to change my life.

In short, I completed my first semester not long after dad passed away. I got the Associate degree as promised, but then earned Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in the field of Social Work at the University of Pittsburgh. For six of the seven years of my schooling I continued to drink, although it decreased over time. Today I have been clean and sober for 17 ½ years.

As a social worker who has been in the behavioral health field since 1999, as a man who has been on earth for more than 50 years, and as an alcoholic who has been involved in the world of addiction for nearly 42 years (personally and professionally) I have been exposed to death more than the average person and have got better at dealing with it over the years.

As a professional I know several patients who have died by overdose or suicide, while others have been murdered. When I first entered the field I wanted to “save the world.” The reality of my field is that people will die at an above average rate, and at a younger than average age. I have been significantly humbled by this and know that there is only so much I can do to assist people in their personal battles against psychosis, mood disorders and addiction.
Personally, I know approximately 50 people I’ve grown up with who have died from addiction directly or indirectly. The cause of death is a major factor in how a person may react to one’s death. I know people who have committed suicide; died in car accidents, were murdered, from medical complications, from years of addiction, overdose and more. They have all died way too young, and many tragically.

As some who have been in therapy for grief/bereavement reasons, you may have heard of the 5 stages of grief of the dying. They are Stages: 1) Denial, 2) Anger, 3) Bargaining, 4) Depression, and stage 5) Acceptance.
As an alcoholic in recovery I have become quite familiar with “The Serenity Prayer” that goes like this: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference, Amen.

Although the stages of grief are specifically for those who are facing death, I have found the Serenity Prayer to be like a philosophy that anyone could live by. If you look at both of them closely, the desired outcome is acceptance.
I used to think that by accepting something, I was saying that I was ok with it. Today it means something much different than that. Today, I see acceptance as “unlocking the door” to the cage in which I held myself captive for many years.

As long as I was unable to accept the death of my father and the many others for whom I care so much, the longer I live in a state of anger, depression, regret, guilt, turmoil and chaos.
When I free myself through acceptance, I am able to move forward and live life to the fullest. I’m able to do this in a way that would make them proud. I like to think that they will know I have truly honored them by living a life of dignity, sobriety, and serenity.

Does this mean I have found “closure?” No! It doesn’t! To me closure is a myth and does not exist. There is no such thing. I know this because I have accepted my father’s death that happened on May 5, 1992 and still struggle a little bit more around that time of every year. Whenever I achieve goal or reach a milestone it is still bitter-sweet because dad is not physically here to celebrate with me. So I don’t think anyone entirely gets over it or finds closure. I do believe that we can learn to hurt and still move on and find happiness and success. Isn’t that what he would want?

I try to remember that as complex and difficult as death can be, it can also be as simple as, death is part of life.