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Writing Your Grief: Day 1 – Name

I don’t have a name. I don’t know what to do. I am not the person I used to be since Caleb died.

Caleb was born after years of infertility and only through months of fertility drugs and the grace of God. He is a huge part of my identity. I am Caleb’s dad. I taught him to read. We played constantly. I went to classes to get my “F License” to coach his soccer team 5 years. We went to Scouts every week for eleven years. For two of those years, I served as Cub Master. We camped, biked, and backpacked all over our area. We loved boating, fishing, riding motorcycles, and going on cruises together. My only son and I were modern explorers.

Now, what am I? I have a daughter to raise and I want to experience life with her but these things I loved before now cut deep into my soul. I was always happy and an eternal optimist.

Was. What a terrible word. It represents all which existed before and implies everything lost.

My wife can make me smile and my daughter can make me laugh, but I have not been truly happy or optimistic since that otherwise beautiful day in June.


Photo by Samuel Bordo on Unsplash

Published inGrief

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