How a McMuffin Made Me Cry for My Dad

I was driving today, eating a biscuit from McDonald’s. Just me and pandora playing in the background, thinking about nothing in particular. And then out of nowhere...a thought of him came up.

Not the dad from birthdays or family photos. Not the one laughing or saying “Hey babydoll” as he sat on the porch with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. This was the dad I remember in his worst state when he struggling to swallow, trapped in pain, fading in and out of sleep before he passed. And suddenly, it hit me with the memory of his suffering and a question I couldn’t shake. What if he was hungry? What if he felt it, even in that sleep state, and no one could help him?

I gasped out loud, tears streaming down my face, and an awful, ragged cry escaped the word “Daddy” tumbling out before I could stop it. I couldn’t finish my food. Every bite felt wrong, almost like a betrayal. How could I eat when he couldn’t?

Grief doesn’t wait. It doesn’t knock politely. It comes in tastes, in smells, in the middle of driving down the freeway, in the middle of a McDonald’s breakfast. And when it hits, it hits raw. It’s chaotic, unfiltered, and brutal. It makes you feel every contradictory emotion at once - sadness, guilt, anger, and even that tiny spark of life you feel you shouldn’t.

And today, as I type this while juggling five work tasks at once, the ache comes and goes. Dad never leaves my mind. Sometimes he drifts to the back of my thoughts, quietly, but he’s always there. I'm sure anyone who is grieving their loved one can understand what I mean....

Your life changes after someone you love passes. You are different now. You are learning to breathe again in a world without them. You feel like a new version of yourself - fragile, raw, and constantly adjusting. And that’s okay. That’s the grief reshaping you, showing you how to carry love and loss together. I have to remind myself that almost daily.

And another thing that I need to remind myself and anyone reading this is that We are human. We grieve. We feel pain. And that’s okay. Feeling raw, messy emotions doesn’t mean we loved them any less. It doesn’t mean we failed him. It means we loved them enough to feel the weight of their absence. That love is still here. It hasn’t gone anywhere.

I didn’t finish my food. I didn’t fix the grief while driving. And I can’t “fix” the ache now either. But I can let it exist. I can let the tears, the memories, the cry, and the ache happen.

 Grief is proof of love, but it doesn’t have to define every moment of your life. Some days, the ache will be heavy. Some days, it will be a little lighter. And in all of it, you’re allowed to laugh, eat, work, live, and even find joy again - without guilt.

 Life after loss changes you. You are learning to breathe again in a world without them. Notice your grief. Let it exist. And even as you grieve, you are allowed to live, love, and feel joy again. It's still going to be really hard a lot of the days, but you are stronger than you think. Just as I always say, find beauty today. Look around you today and find something that brings you joy. You deserve Peace. You deserve Happiness.

Today’s Prompt:

Think of one small thing your loved one taught you or one memory that still makes you smile. Write it down or say it out loud. Let that memory sit with you and remind you that even in grief, joy and love can still exist. Today, allow yourself to feel both - grief and a spark of happiness at the same time.