Oct 6, 2026 · 12 min · 8 segments
What happens when grief starts to feel a little less like sadness... and a little more like life? This week I took Oscar to watch Bristol Bears rugby. To sit in his Daddy's seat. There are memories…
My friends were obviously absolutely brilliant too.
They knew how important it was to me that Oscar was there, and they were amazing at helping with him, taking him off, giving him snacks, entertaining him, basically forming a temporary childcare cooperative around me whilst I tried to enjoy the game too.
And honestly, I was so grateful because I realized something.
This was grief, but it didn't feel sad, not really.
It felt happy, it felt chaotic, it felt normal, and I think that's something I've been learning recently.
Grief doesn't always look like grief.
Sometimes honoring someone looks like going to their favorite place and crying, but sometimes it looks like going to their favorite place and laughing.
Sometimes it looks like sitting at their grave, and sometimes it looks like sitting in their rugby seat while your toddler eats approximately 47 pounds worth of snacks.
Sometimes it's a photograph, sometimes it's a story, sometimes it's a tattoo, and sometimes it's Paw Patrol.
And I actually love that because I don't want my relationship with Alex to only exist in sadness.
I don't want Oscar's memories of his dad to be built entirely around the fact he died.
I want Alex to become part of the fabric of our lives, not a shadow hanging over them.
And I think that's the difference between remembering someone and living in the past.
I'm not trying to recreate the life Alex and I had.
I can't.
I'm creating something new, and I'm taking the bits of him that matter with me.
My friends were obviously absolutely brilliant too.
They knew how important it was to me that Oscar was there, and they were amazing at helping with him, taking him off, giving him snacks, entertaining him, basically forming a temporary childcare cooperative around me whilst I tried to enjoy the game too.
And honestly, I was so grateful because I realized something.
This was grief, but it didn't feel sad, not really.
It felt happy, it felt chaotic, it felt normal, and I think that's something I've been learning recently.
Grief doesn't always look like grief.
Sometimes honoring someone looks like going to their favorite place and crying, but sometimes it looks like going to their favorite place and laughing.
Sometimes it looks like sitting at their grave, and sometimes it looks like sitting in their rugby seat while your toddler eats approximately 47 pounds worth of snacks.
Sometimes it's a photograph, sometimes it's a story, sometimes it's a tattoo, and sometimes it's Paw Patrol.
And I actually love that because I don't want my relationship with Alex to only exist in sadness.
I don't want Oscar's memories of his dad to be built entirely around the fact he died.
I want Alex to become part of the fabric of our lives, not a shadow hanging over them.
And I think that's the difference between remembering someone and living in the past.
I'm not trying to recreate the life Alex and I had.
I can't.
I'm creating something new, and I'm taking the bits of him that matter with me.
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