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A year ago today I lost my Dad for the 2nd & final time… #grief #death

24 and a half years ago, my dad chose a new journey in life. The type of journey that meant that he would no longer be involved in watching me grow up. A journey which meant that I had, in theory, lost my dad for the first time. Do I remember how I felt about that? No, I was a mere three years old. Between the years of 1993-2003 I saw him a handful of times, yet in 1998, he chose to send me a birthday card. However, what was written in that card has stayed with me ever since;

‘Dear Kaisha. I’m not sending you anything for your birthday as you haven’t bothered to write to Nanna. Dad’

Reader; I was 8 years old. I know exactly what I did with that card (after getting upset btw). I casually ripped it into little pieces, walked outside and threw it into the black wheelie bin. Wasn’t exactly the most mature thing to do, but y’know!

In 2004 I had reached an age where I wanted to give my dad one more chance (please be aware that I’m not typing out the entire story here, a lot more went on than what I wrote above). To say that I missed my dad that year would be a lie. To say that I missed the idea of having a dad…now that would be closer to the truth. I gave him that chance, and he blew it more than once during 2014.

In 2006 I saw my dad for the very last time, through chance, as he was walking out of Tesco as we were walking in. I didn’t want to talk to him. I had nothing to say to him. Over the years a lot of my early childhood came to light, such as how he wanted my mum to abort me when she fell pregnant, and so on. When I was older, I was able to speak for myself and form an opinion based on what he decided to spraff. I stood up for myself. I was called all the names under the sun, ridiculed beyond belief, pulled apart like I was scum. And yes, I did reply in a hateful and angry manner, I won’t lie.

In 2013, whilst I was pregnant with my daughter, it was agreed that I should contact him over Facebook and let him know that I was pregnant, same as when I gave birth. His response? He congratulated my mum on the birth of my baby..

So, whilst you’ve had a little history lesson of TWG, there is a reason why I have delved into my past. On the 25th July 2016 I received a phone call from my cousin. My dad was dead. I had to relay the news to my family, and yes, I was absolutely distraught. The next day I was contacted again by my cousin who told me that on the 23rd July (one year ago today), my dad killed himself by putting a gun to his head. Why did I find out two days after the event? Because he lived in America and, seeing as he had no contact details for his children, we weren’t notified directly…his sister was.

Despite the fact that my dad and I, had had a turbulent relationship over the years, and the fact that I despised him and didn’t want to be associated with him (I changed my surname), his death knocked me for six. I couldn’t stop crying. Even if I wanted to re-build our relationship, I no longer can. He doesn’t know his granddaughter. Hell, he didn’t even really know his 26 (at the time) year old daughter. Yet I was a mess. But then I thought to myself; ‘why are you crying? you didn’t like him?’, and quite a few times I was asked that question by other people. People couldn’t understand why I was so upset so, because of those comments, I started feeling like I shouldn’t be upset by his death. How I shouldn’t be feeling sad as we hadn’t spoken for years. How I should just get on with it and we didn’t really have a relationship. I felt guilty for being upset when I had had a step-dad for the last 8 years, why would I have needed my dad? I wouldn’t. My step-dad has been more of a father to me than my dad ever was. But I still couldn’t stop crying.

Even now, one year later, I still have moments where I can’t believe he’s dead. I wasn’t able to go to the funeral. My brother and I had to legally relinquish our next of kin rights due to cost. Even though my brother was happy to do that and wasn’t bothered by the circumstances, I didn’t want to do it, but I knew that I couldn’t afford to pay for the funeral myself, including the cost for bringing his body back to the UK. Even though he washed his hands of us many years ago, I felt extremely guilty by doing the same even though he was dead.

Regardless of my relationship with my dad, he was still that…my dad. I wouldn’t be on this planet if it wasn’t partly for him. When I look in the mirror I see him, obviously. I wish things were different. I wish we were able to have the father daughter relationship. I know I’m lucky to have my step-dad in my life, and of course my mummabear, but I guess I never expected my dad to kill himself. I am furious with him, but I do miss him. I have no idea why I miss him, but I do. He’s part of me whether I like it or not.

I never got to say goodbye to my dad the first time that he left us. I never got to say goodbye to my dad the second, and final time that he left us. I never got to say to him, ‘look at me now’. I never got to know HIM. HE never got to know me as an adult.

This is by far, the weirdest grief I have ever experienced. I guess that I just want my dad…even though I never really had him to begin with…

22 thoughts on “A year ago today I lost my Dad for the 2nd & final time… #grief #death

  1. It seems wrong to ‘like’ this post Kaisha, but it has moved me very much. It was a year ago yesterday that my Dad had his catastrophic stroke that then took all those weeks finally to kill him and I was with him when he died on 9th November. It’s a very different story to yours as Dad was the kindest man you could ever wish to meet and was a huge part of my life for over 55 years so I understand your sense of loss completely, even though it stems from a different relationship. Keep strong x

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thank you for this post. Am a bit at a loss what to say, especially since this is so personal, this is how you feel. You mentioned it in your piece, the grief is real, it’s all you wanted but couldn’t have, all the (missed, screwed up) possibilities that are gone, all that could have been different but never was and never will. I think that’s your grief and you should not put that strong feeling down – it’s there so you can, in some way or another, can come to terms with it or at least give it a place in your mind where with time, hopefully, the empty whole can be accepted xx

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It feels wrong to “like” this post, but I want you to know how brave it is to share this. Grief is such a personal thing that can eat away at you, I’m so glad you could let this out. So much love & fierce hugs my darling xxx


  4. I’m feeling all emotional after reading this. I think it’s perfectly normal and understandable to grieve something that could have been. I hadn’t talked to my mom for two years when she passed away back in April, never got to say the things I wanted to or try and fix what went wrong and now that door is closed forever. It’s a terribly confusing time, as it is for you. I genuinely hope there will come a time when you can somehow find peace with this. Fierce hugs and much love to you! xx


  5. As above it feels wrong to like this post. Grief is a personal thing and you aren’t only grieving for your dad but also a relationship you will never have with him. Be gentle with yourself it’s ok to be upset and hopefully one day you will find some peace. Sending you a big ODDBUDDY hug x x x


  6. Oh sweetie, you are showing the world how brave you are by putting this out there. As much as you are grieving, angry, confused etc it is all ‘normal’ for you. We all face things in different ways and your situation would be enough to make a weaker person crumble. I’m just sad your Dad missed out on knowing you, it was entirely his own doing but he missed so much. Big hugs to you & your little one who I will say again is a HUGE credit to you. Lots of love xxx


  7. This most resonates with me in more ways than I wished it did. Long story short, my genitor (can’t call him dad or father as I believe those nouns should be used for men who care and are an active part of your life) wasn’t a constant presence in my childhood, he would often let me down but promising he’d come and I’d wait at the door all day with my coat on, only to receive a message he couldn’t make it. Then I grew up, and tried to build a relationship, it ended up with him telling me he refused to see me as his daughter, and I learned from my hometown town hall that he had remarried… So I grew up without him, I tried my best, forgave and tried to create a bound so many times, but I have now given up. I have no idea how I would react to his passing away. I look a lot like him and for years it was a problem for me and part of the reason I was never confident. Now I’ve changed my name and I do not expect anything. But I understand and feel the conflicting feelings you are left with, and the pain you have inherited. I know how unfair it is, and it is us that are left with the broken heart and the grief. Because no matter what happens, we grief a father, or what could/should have been. It’s so exhausting and it hurts like a bitch. Nothing I can say will make you feel better, but you are strong, thank you for sharing this with us. I am sending you all my love and keeping you in my mind. You are loved, and while this scar will probably never heal, I pray it becomes easier for you. Lots of love, my sweet friend xxx


  8. Like everyone esle has said it does feel wrong to like this post. Grief is different for everyone and you should feel no shame in the grief you experienced. Even with not knowing him- it is grief for the relationship you can never have and that your daughter can never have with him. Even more so since it was suicide.

    I lost my dad when I was just 19 in 1999. It was different circumstances than your dad, but still, I understand. Some days are harder than others (some holidays, anniversary of this death, and his birthday which happens to be Valentine’s Day… Needless to say I don’t celebrate that holiday for multiple reasons.)

    Hugs to you today! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I’m with everyone else, Kaisha. ‘Liking’ this post feels a bit odd but it’s a way for us to hopefully express our support for you. You are an incredibly strong, independent, loyal, and beautiful young woman. You are a doting mother and as such probably realise what you (and your dad) missed out on. Grief is personal and often unexplained but it’s perfectly normal. Stay strong x

    Liked by 1 person

  10. This is so incredibly moving and sad, and you are so brave to share it. Grief is a reaction to loss. So much has been lost here, in so many different ways, by so many of you. With so much pain, there is every reason to cry. Whatever you missed out on, and after all the difficulties you’ve had, you shine through as an amazing person, with a wonderful daughter. Sending hugs xxx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, that means a lot. I know some others don’t understand my upset considering our relationship, but I was just sick of hiding it away. Thank you for your lovely words xxxxx


  11. Yes, have ‘liked’ this post too but because I admire your resilience. Your dad is the real loser here because he missed out on knowing such a gutsy person. Best wishes. X

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I have just seen this on your blog and wanted to say how sad I am for you, and my deepest sympathies. My dad died on 4th March 2015. It was his and my mum’s 48th wedding anniversary. It was also exactly 3 months to the day that we were told he had terminal cancer and they had given him 6 months. Whilst my situation is vastly different to yours, the sense of loss of a dad still remains the same. I can feel your pain – 2 years on and I am still no nearer to coming to terms with it, but things are getting easier. From only knowing you through your blog it’s obvious that you are an intelligent and amazing woman, and you will get through this. Thank you for being brave enough to share it with everyone. Big hugs to you.


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