My experience with parent loss
By: Riley Duignan

Loss, it’s something everybody experiences. Whether it’s death, a loss of a relationship, loss of a friendship, loss of health, anticipatory loss, the list goes on. It comes in every form, it’s diverse and expansive. You never know what somebody is going through. The barista who made your coffee to your liking may have just lost their dog recently, or maybe the classmate you never talk to, but always smile at, feels lost, like they’re lacking a sense of self. Maybe the janitor’s mother just got diagnosed with a terminal illness, maybe someone at school lost their opportunity to play their favorite sport because of a broken leg. Loss comes in so many forms, and you truly never know when people are feeling it. Though someone’s loss may be so small to you, like a tiny piece of sand, it could be a whole beach for them. Empathy, and a little understanding can make the biggest difference to someone going through loss.

On December 7th, 2025, my dad passed away, he was only 11 days away from his 52nd birthday.
Anybody who has been through parent loss can tell you it’s the loneliest experience ever. It’s not exactly common to lose your dad at 16, so many people can’t seem to even understand. Many people who haven’t been through parent loss yet can’t seem to fathom the idea of it, so their responses are only more isolating. When it happened, for the next week it felt like I was in a dream, I barely got out of bed. I marinated in this feeling that all eyes were on me, yet no one saw me. They knew he died but no one understood he did. I got messages wishing the best for me, but it felt like most people did it out of human decency, not empathy. Multiple family members told me it was God’s plans, but even setting aside my inconsistent relationship to any god of sorts, it made my blood boil. Telling me that my dad was fated to die at his young age and mine, is just as hurtful as somebody saying he deserved to die.

At a time when I needed them to understand I was, and am shutting down, my friends were the weakest support system I have, and had. When I was falling into a self isolation, even still am, most didn’t care to reach out. Of course, out of their moral righteousness they texted me right when they heard, but rarely have any reached out to check on me. Rarely have most actually shown their empathy or actual condolences. I know my dads death is not an excuse for my inconsistency, or my absence of being a good and present friend, but it’s a reason; a reason that most don’t understand at my age. To realize only around 3 of my friends cared to actually check on me, and now only 2, is something that I’ve had to fathom during this experience.

Though the world kept spinning for everyone else, it stopped for me. Even though the thought of my dad never left my mind, and his death weighed so heavily on my heart, my grief had nowhere to go except wallow inside of my heart. And as this was happening I still felt the need to prove every bit of myself. I still wanted to perform the best I could, and am still trying. I don’t expect anyone’s thoughts to really even consider me, but I wish they would. I wish that responsibilities would pause for me, because the responsibility of just grasping my own thoughts is hard enough on its own. The grief I feel is like bookworms eating away at the majority of parts of the pages of a book, making the book incomprehensible; or like beetles eating away at a beautiful green leaf. I’ve heard that grief is just love that has no place to go, but when I think about it, I don’t want to compare love to this feeling that so intensely eats away at me.

I wouldn’t wish this on anybody else, but I just wish that somebody, just anybody could fully hear me. Knowing there are people in this world who have gone through the same thing, but everybody bears the weight of their own experience just makes me feel lonely. I think about my dad everyday, I think about his hug, and I try to still remember how it felt everyday. I think about his laugh, how I wish I could’ve heard it more. I think about his scent, how he’s not here anymore but this lingering part of him still is. I think about where he is now, whether there really is an all knowing god who has predetermined his death, or if there is truly just nothingness after death. Him being gone makes me feel like a helpless child crying for her dad after she tripped and scraped her knee on the ground. At a time when I felt so much like an adult, it is like a part of me has become that helpless child.

My loss is one of many. It’s individual, and though it may be shared, there’s little people who do share it in the same moments of time and life that I do. This feeling of loneliness does not come with just parent loss, it comes with every loss, because very minimally will someone so deeply understand you. Maybe the athlete that almost made it to the National Championship injured themselves so now they don’t get the chance to go. Somebody, like me, who doesn’t care for sports, nor has value for it in my own individual life may not understand that this loss is everything to that person. And that’s okay, we don’t always have to understand each other to support each other. Empathy does not need to be a deep understanding, but also just being an ear that will actually hear one’s words and experiences. Even the little hug you gave to your friend who was crying, or the lack of selfishness that seems like it’s only scratching the surface of someone’s loss or hurt, may be like their fire in freezing cold temperatures. You truly never know how much it means.

I understand that being around someone with any loss can be difficult, especially if it’s so significant for them. Personally, even to myself I’m unpredictable as the days go by since my dad passed. But, one’s absence of words and empathy make it all worse than one could ever imagine. If I had to leave off with one message to you, the reader, I’d say love and empathy can be shown not just through the words, “Are you okay?” to somebody, but the actions that follow. Letting one know that you are here for them, asking them what they need from you, and letting them know that you don’t just want to hear a positive answer from them, but an honest one; makes all the difference.