I describe myself as the happiest saddest person I know. I laugh daily. I cry weekly. My wife can affirm that I have 99 good days out of 100. If you were around me, you might ask: “How can a happy person be so sad?” Or, “How a sad person be so happy?” When I look at my life – as objectively as I can as an insider – I have more reasons to be sad than anyone. I have more reasons to be happy than anyone. My sadness makes me happy. My happiness makes me sad.
This article is titled Before The Blossom. One of my greatest reasons for my sadness is sourced from my Dad passing away 17 years ago. There has been layers to my pain. I consider myself a late bloomer. I discovered my gift of communication in my late twenties. Since then, I learned I can take them on a ride. People laugh; people cry; people get goosebumps. The deep pain I feel is because my Dad never got to see me using God’s greatest gift to me. He never got to see me captivate a room, nourishing them, building them up, elevating them in their lives.
My Dad was one of those guys who would brag about his kids. He would tell everyone about them. He would feel like in a way he was up there because I was there. I never got to watch him brag about my greatest skill. This is a deep pain. And there is no solution. Being in the self help industry, I believe there are a finite number of principles and I feel like I’ve heard all of them related to death and loss. I’ve heard or read seemingly every kind reassuring phrase. Still, I feel deep sorrow. There is a sorrow that people sense is temporary, but this isn’t one of those. It’s more like my shadow. “Me and you, sorrow, are in this together to the end.” My Dad died before I blossomed.