I see so much of my father in this post. My brother died about eight years ago now. My mom clung to her faith and was able to weather it. But my dad... I thought I would never see him smile again. There would be times when we would catch him in the corner of our eye crying by himself. I’d never seen him cry before or since.

I wanted my dad to understand that he still had so much in his life. I could tell that he felt empty and like he had failed his son. But he had three other children. And even though we were all adults, we still needed our dad.

But grief isn’t fair or logical. My dad spiraled, and he eventually needed a mental health intervention. He finally received counseling and accepted anti-depressants. It had been about three years after my brother had died. In the following months after he started medication, I saw him smile for the first time. It was when he was bouncing his youngest granddaughter we on his knee. He gradually began engaging in life again and started trying to be more involved in the family.

I can’t tell you how to make this process easier. My own grief journey was long and miserable. The only thing I can say is that if you can’t handle it by yourself, it’s ok to ask for help. You don’t have to tell your kids, but you can. Or you can just talk to your primary care doctor at your next check up. Tell them you’re struggling with depression since your grandchild died and see what they suggest. That’s how I started, and things got better from there.