Storytelling in the lead up to Father's Day - Dad and the Yellow Rain Coats

Storytelling in the lead up to Father’s Day – Dad and the Yellow Rain Coats

💜 Storytelling in the lead up to Father’s Day 💜

As the lead up to Father’s Day rolls on, I’ve been thinking about my Dad, Neville Moriarty, even more.

Grief Connect® is more than a service—it’s a legacy. My Dad believed in the work I do, and he told me so. That quiet pride stays with me and continues to guide me as I expand Grief Connect® services.

Every resource, every conversation, every step forward carries his influence.

I’m grateful to keep building something that reflects both purpose and connection. On that note, it’s time to share a bit about Nev.

This photos was taken on one of our many family camp trips to Walpole. These started when I was a kid and some of my favourite life memories are from camping with my parents.

Dad taught me to become a keen fisherwoman. We would head out to our secret spot and bring in a good haul of fish. We’d curse when the fish got off the hook and Dad would throw in a heavy line to catch a gummy shark. Quite often, it wasn’t a gummy shark, but a stingray that would take our line. I always found Dad cursing amusing, it was a rarity for my Dad, and it was exciting to see what we caught.

When they were on the bite we’d stay out there way past the sunsetting. Dressed in heavy yellow rain coats and refusing to let the weather turn us back in.

We’d attempt to navigate back to the boat ramp with a spot light, Dad driving and me up the front ensuring we didn’t hit a sand bar or rock!

I’m sure that Mum was enjoying her time back on shore having a break from us!

Like many people out there, I’m really missing my Dad, but I hold on super tight to our memories, and all the life lessons he has taught me.

I need to also recognise here, that not everyone out there has had the relationship they would hope for with their Dad, and this can bring around complex feelings around grief. It’s OK to reflect on your story and acknowledge how you are feeling.

When we miss our Dads, and grief doesn’t require a perfect history, but it does require honesty, and reflection.

No matter your story with your Dad, honouring your experience can be really helpful. For me, I do it by sharing my Dad’s stories, and remembering the adventures we went on.

Sharing in grief can be really helpful. Give it a go, no matter your story.

So here is the write up from me and my share for International Widows Day: Widowhood is grief, and one of the deepest forms of grief a person can ever experience. It is a type of grief that I would never wish on my worst enemy. It is unfathomable to explain just how horrendous, devastating and lonely widowhood grief can feel. Yesterday, I did not write this blog like I had planned originally, because I was out spending time with one of my children. And let me tell you, as a widowed parent, I have spent most of my early widowhood feeling like I was the shittiest parent ever.

Firstly, because suddenly I was doing a job that I never signed up to do on my own. What a joke that was. It was supposed to be two of us. Nathan and I – riding the rollercoaster of parenting together. He was supposed to be alive and keep working as a parenting team alongside me.

Secondly, because even though I tried my best throughout all of my parenting, it was not always great. My children were not only managing their own grief, but they were also experiencing their mother’s grief. At times it as not pretty and was damned right ugly at times. I’m not proud of that.

My window of tolerance very small with irritability and impatience a go to in my mothering survival. I know what they have seen is a mum who has struggled with grief missing their Dad (and Step Dad). They have had a mum who has not ticked all the boxes of being a perfect parent. But lets face it… that’s a load of rubbish as there is no such thing as a perfect parent, only an ideal.

As a young widowed parent, I was forced to be questioning how I was going to continue find ways to keep feeding my children? How was I going to keep a roof over our heads long term? Could we stay living in our family home? Because one half of the household income is no longer there to pay the bills and Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs was under threat. Because there is no crisis widowed payment from Centrelink (another issue for another write up) and it’s walking away from Centrelink with no support and in deep grief after asking for help with a “too bad, so sad” response.

Let me tell you that the feeling of not knowing if you can keep your house, some kind of continuing lifestyle for your kids, or how you are going to pay the car registration and many other bills that keep arriving, is absolutely terrifying and only serves to compound grief missing your person.

And that is just scratching the surface of what widowhood is about. Because when our person dies, our entire life turns into something we do not recognise, do not know, did not ask for, and never wanted. Within this deep grief, we are forced to continue pushing through to the next day. But quite often, that is too much. People wanting to help around make statements of good intent and say “just get through the next day”… NO. This is about getting through the next hour or the next minute. It is survival mode at it’s purest.

Yes, time has gone on for me. I never thought it would. But here we are, me writing, you reading, 8 years after Nathan died. My life has changed immensely in ways that I never thought possible. And also, as a widow, when I have days like yesterday, where I am functioning and multitasking like a boss again, and also spending quality time with my kids, that has to be celebrated, and means that it’s OK to write this blog a day late.

To non-widowed parents, yesterday, might have seemed like just another average day. Just another day of doing routine tasks. But for me, and for many widowed people out there, it is an achievement in grief, and in life. Maggie Dent, an incredible Parenting Expert advocates that ‘You just have to be a good parent 30-40% of the time’ on her “Good Enough Parent” podcast. So, yesterday, as a widowed parent, to be able to get through the day and feel like a “good enough parent” is something worth celebrating and I’m high fiving myself. I know Nathan would be high fiving me right back from the heavens. So I’ll take that and embrace it.

Because the reality is that for many widowed people, we can lower those percentage numbers… because running on empty and still making it to the end of the day.. or the end of the hour in one piece and only ‘just’ functioning is a huge achievement when experiencing deep grief.

To all of my widowed friends and peers out there who are pushing hard though each day, please know that you are freaking amazing. Huge credit to you for arriving at this point in time, right now. You are doing great, even though it doesn’t feel like it. I see you. Remember that you are not alone.

Celebrate the small wins. And remember that although it might not feel like it, there is hope and there is a future ahead.

As we move into the day after International Widows’ Day, others may move forward, but we remember.

We live being widowed every single day.

If you know someone who is widowed and grieving, please let them know about the Grief Connect® Community. A space for grief to be shared and supported by peers in live online conversations and posts. Access the community by clicking the button below.