12/12/2025
Last week, I became what I so often stand beside. I lost my dad. I was a grieving son and brother.
As a funeral director, people often assume we’re somehow “used to” death, that we’re stronger, steadier, more prepared for grief. The truth is simple… when it’s your own, it cuts just as deeply.
I feel the same ache, the same disbelief, the same quiet moments where the world keeps turning while mine feels paused. On Wednesday, I will attend our Christmas service carrying my own grief alongside the families I have served throughout this year — not because I’m immune to it, but because I understand it. And it will be hard, as I hold space not only for them, but for myself and my dad too.
This Christmas will also look different.
There will be an empty chair where my dad should be.
A silence that wasn’t there before.
Grief doesn’t mean we stop living. It means we learn how to carry love in a new way. I’m giving myself permission to feel it all, even while I continue to show up for others, as I did for the two families I supported this week. Dad was proud of me and what I do and I know he would have wanted me there for them.
I share this not for sympathy, but for honesty. Funeral directors grieve too. We are not untouched by loss, we are shaped by it. We are all human first.
My pain reminds me that love is the reason it hurts, and the reason I will keep going.