Falling in love in death

2025 didn’t exactly land with the energy and enthusiasm that saw me cross the midnight, New Year’s threshold back in December.

The first month of this year saw me in bed with a virus on and off for three weeks. And then sadly, February brought with it the somewhat unexpected death of my Father-in-law. So perhaps I can be forgiven for my radio silence here. Except, after the last five weeks dealing with and processing grief, (more precisely, trying to be present and supportive of my husband’s grief), I thought I’d have more to say. But I don’t.

My business partner once told me that I have a way of delivering bad news or criticism with great optimism. She’s always said, I can say anything to anyone because of the delivery - this applies to written only (my words, not hers). But you see, in death, I really don’t know if that holds true.

My husband was Upstate when he called me in the city to tell me his dad had died. I rushed straight to the station and caught the next train to be with him. That train ride I rampantly googled: “how to be helpful to someone in grief”, “what not to say to someone mourning”, “the right thing to say in death”… a strange thing to have to do for someone you know better than anyone else in the world. Truth is, what IS the right thing to say? The answer? Nothing and everything. There is no right answer. My mum, who lost her mother in her early thirties, told me to just be there for him. Hold him, sit with him, listen to him. So I did, and I continue to do so… and in all honesty, all the above has changed and strengthened our relationship for the better. I would give anything for him to have more time with his dad, but a part of me also feels quietly grateful that we've been able to walk through this experience side by side. By the way, that’s NOT the right thing to say to someone in the face of death… but it’s true.

We’ve since returned back to New York and back to work; I guess this presents another stage of processing it all, but I did want to try and say something right. Or rather, in my case, write something right. So, in lieu of any other real reason for this post other than to say all you can do is ‘try,’ I share this poem I wrote for my husband (it’s World Poetry Day today). I tried to capture the very special bond between a (step)father and his son.

He Holds Your Past - by Emma Harding

You always said I never met the real him -
I arrived too late, his light had grown dim. 
But in his death, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed, 
The stories told as we regale the past.
I missed the start, the decades before,
But now I see how much of him endures.
He holds your past; the pieces I never knew,
He gave you life, he carried you through. 

He picked you up a mere child of five, 
With his love (and his cars) your eyes came alive. 
He gave you the world and his giant heart,
He became your hero from the very start. 
A man of respect, he fondly called you his ‘boy’,
He gave all he could to bring you joy.
He holds your past; the memories remain,
In every drive, down every lane. 

You followed his footsteps as you grew into a man,
Making him proud - that was always your plan. 
And now I see, with every endeavour,
You’re carrying his legacy on forever. 
There was never a man so sure of mind,
Who taught you the world, but above all, be kind. 
He holds your past; and through all you give, 
He lives in you - as long as you live.

It took thirty years till he called you ‘son’,
I was there for that day; the day you won. 
It’s never been clearer the role you played, 
He was your dad; and with that he was made.
Today you cried because you can’t hear his voice, 
Recounting life’s lessons; the trials, the joys. 
He holds your past; he’ll watch your future too,
The last words you shared were ‘I love you’. 

Not many can say, there’s nothing left unsaid, 
Except that I know you wish he weren’t dead. 
Just as he did, I’ll hold you forever, 
He was proud of our love and our life together. 
My promise to you, as you promised him,
Is to bring back the light - it won’t ever dim. 
He holds your past, your future is mine,
To my father-in-law: your boy will be fine.