Grief is Like a Fire: A Grieving Dad’s Perspective on Baby Loss
by Chris Moore
A Note from The Morning: We know that many times grieving dads can feel overlooked in comparison to the grieving mom. However, we also know that even if it looks different for everyone, men grieve, too. We’ve chosen to feature a few grieving dads who are connected to us because their wives are part of our community so that you can get a glimpse into a few perspectives of how the grieving dad might be feeling & to support him, too. Perhaps the grieving dad in your life might find hope & encouragement as well from Chris’ raw honesty & beautiful words. To the grieving dads reading this: We see you, and we honor your fatherhood today.
Grief is like a fire. A catalyst of events creates a spark, and once it catches, it grows, it moves, it gets bigger, spreads faster and grows taller. It has to burn before it will slow down. Eventually it settles into coals.
You can’t run from grief, you can’t ignore it. There is no controlling it. The only way through it is forward. I hate that. It’s scary, it hurts and I can’t see past the pain of loss. The lens I see life through is forever changed. Losing our daughter Zola has made me stronger in some ways, but some days it brings me to my knees. There’s no such thing as being tough. You don’t need to be tough. Screw being tough. Feel it and know it. The grief and the painful memories are all I have.
Grief and loss are raw and real. It’s okay to acknowledge the pain. I travel through seasons of raw openness and painful disinterest in giving my grief the attention it needs. But at the end of the day there is no way through but forward no matter how I choose to handle it.
I am a songwriter and since losing our daughter all I can do is write about her and about grief. I wrote a song recently called “Avalanche.” This song speaks heavily to the chaos and unpredictability of grief. In the bridge of the song I wrote:
“Don’t bury the memories, don’t move on, only forward motion
Carry the pain you feel, it’s all we have of the ones we’ve lost.”
There is pain in the memories but the memories are all I have of her until I see her again.
Author: Chris Moore
My name is Christopher Moore. I am 26 years old, married to the love of my life, Tiana, and we have a baby girl in heaven, Zola James Moore. I am a songwriter and musician. Grief has affected me greatly in these areas, in growth and decline. I wouldn’t touch a guitar for a while after losing our baby girl. But now all I can write about is her.
