Grief, Life, Tater Tots

tater tots- episode 88

Kari

if you’re new to my blog, welcome! here is an explanation of the tater tot post.

buckle up- it’s a sappy one today.

year two of grief

i’m re-reading a book i first picked up in november of 2023, right before my dad got sick. as i started again, i realized i didn’t remember much of it at all. it felt like i’d never read it in the first place—like i’d had amnesia. most of what i read during that time, and probably throughout 2024, didn’t sink in. my mind wasn’t holding onto anything; i was just moving through the emotions of it all.

that realization made me think about how much grief has changed me. it’s shifted something in me, and i can’t say for better or worse. i can see in old photos that my eyes don’t carry the same light they once did.

i saw a photo of myself from summer of 2021 recently, and i barely recognized her. my eyes looked happy and hopeful. i was nine months into soul homework and felt good. i hadn’t yet encountered deep loss.

in 2022, i lost someone i had stopped speaking to. the grief hit me harder than i could have imagined—deeper than anything i had felt before. i was just starting to find my footing again when my dad was diagnosed with cancer.

august 2025

people say year two of grief can feel worse than year one. for me, it’s not worse—it’s different. i’m not grieving in the same way i was last year. i still miss my dad, i still wish he were here, and sometimes i still cry. but it’s not a raw, unbearable pain anymore. what i feel now is more an absence of joy. i’m not as happy as i used to be, and maybe that’s my version of year two—the one everyone warned me about.

my dad used to play this game on his phone for fun every day. last week, my mom got this in the mail.

grief has taken things i didn’t expect—my focus, my motivation, my point of view, even the way i read a book. i’m sharing this here because sometimes i don’t find what i need in a book or online, and i forget that my blog is a place where my experience can be shared. maybe talking about it here will help someone else feel a little less alone—and maybe, in the process, help me feel a bit less alone too.

looking back

on friday, i came across something i didn’t expect—an old amazon photo account with years of pictures from my canon. i don’t use that camera much anymore, but looking at those photos reminded me how much i still love photography.

what hit me most wasn’t just the pictures themselves, but the rhythm of our lives back then—soccer games, cheerleading, birthday parties, family visits, trips. we were always on the move, and my kids, especially my youngest, grew up in the middle of that momentum.

since 2020, life has slowed down. my youngest daughter, now almost 18, has said she misses some of those gatherings—but not the constant busyness. and honestly, neither do i. we’ve learned to make space for rest, to notice that the quiet moments matter just as much as the big ones.

but the photos brought up something else for me: sadness. in year two of grief, i’m learning how loss comes in layers. looking at those images, i realized i was grieving not just my dad, but also a version of myself—the one who lived in that busy rhythm, who carried the camera, who filled our days that way. and realizing that opened up other layers of grief, ones that go beyond any single loss.

maybe that’s what year two is teaching me—that grief isn’t one story, but many layered ones. i’m learning to hold gratitude for what was, alongside grief for what’s passed, and that’s how i keep going.

grief shows up in many ways, not just with death. what losses are you carrying?

one thing i’m reading

are you mad at me? by meg josephson

one thing i’m watching

katrina: come hell and high water (directed by spike lee-on netflix)

and i stumbled on this – now you have to watch it too:

one thing i’m listening to

portion control by ena mori

links i clicked on

Clouds In Each Paper, by Thich Nhat Hanh

With brave wings she flies – a poem by Kashf – All Poetry

How We Became Captives Of Social Media

No Matter What They Say | A Hundred Falling Veils

(54) Disenfranchised Grief – by Catherine Durkin Robinson

An Inspiring Poem to Remind You of Your Value by Tara Mohr

all public poems of grief are private poems first*

Capture the Dark 2025: Winning photographs | DarkSky International

Who Are You In A Parallel Universe?

quotes that had me thinking

but as writers, we should use everything that touches us. it’s all ore to be refined into story. – octavia butler

dying isn’t the end of life, it’s part of it – aditi sethi

a huge percentage of the stuff that i tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded. – david foster wallace

whole years of joy glide unperceived away, while sorrow counts the minutes as they pass. – william howard

hello, september…

Discover more from A Grace Full Life

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

55 thoughts on “tater tots- episode 88”

  1. Grief is like an ocean, sometimes the waves drag you down… sometimes they lift you up.
    My father died when I was 15 and to this day I can’t speak of him without choking up. But my memories are beautiful, and that helps.

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

  2. Looking at those 10 Very Special Episodes I immediately thought of the episode on A Different World where Freddie was date raped (or nearly so)… but there are so many of these episodes that I didn’t remember at all.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  3. Kari, I’m grateful that you shared about your grief and how it shifts and changes over time. I’m still grieving the loss of vision in one eye, especially because it keeps getting worse, and I grieve for the time before, when I was whole. Yet, I don’t talk about it much because I’m being “strong.” And I AM strong, and I’m not letting it ruin my life! But still, grieving is a part of building that strength.

    The very special episodes – they covered some serious subjects! I’d forgotten a lot of them, so the video was an interesting reminder.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Oh, Michelle, I’m so sorry. We aren’t taught how to grieve losses like this, so it can be hard to talk about. I often don’t share my grief because I feel like I need to be strong — and I really don’t love that we think we have to be. I’m glad I shared this time, and I’m so glad you shared with me. You are so brave, and what you’re grieving is a real loss. You’re right — grieving is such a big part of building that strength. I’m sending you so much love.

      It was a very interesting and traumatic reminder! 🤣

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  4. Well, we are still in the thick of it here. It seems as though because it was the last of our 4 parents, this one has hit both of us the hardest. I sort of remember feeling that way when my last grandparent died, too. And for whatever weird reason, it hits me hardest when I’m driving. And then I think of you and how I think you could relate to that? That makes me feel better, as in I’m Not Crazy!!! There will always be comfort in numbers, won’t there?

    My husband and I always joke about the ‘very special episodes.’ There was nothing funny about them, but the fact that what was normally a light-hearted show became so serious . . . I guess it’s similar to laughing in church.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Oh friend, I’m so sorry about that. My dad is the first. YES — I totally relate to grief hitting you the hardest when you’re driving! I get in the car, listen to music, and just cry. It’s honestly therapy. And now, I’ll think of you, and it will make me smile. You’re never alone, sweet friend. 😘💜

      RIGHT?? I think they must’ve thought our parents weren’t having the tough talks at home, so they were out there doin’ the Lord’s work.

      Like

      Reply

  6. “that realization made me think about how much grief has changed me.”

    Yes, it sure does, Kari! And I discovered with grief, everyone grieves differently and in their own time. For me, grief (the loss of my father and mother), I was at different stages in my life, so I moved through them differently. And as you said, it comes in layers. My father passed first, then my mother. Even to this day, I still feel the loss (and I still cry too). However, it has shifted because in many ways, I feel closer to both my parents because they still communicate with me (in meditation) and I can feel them helping me as I move through my grief.

    “we’ve learned to make space for rest, to notice that the quiet moments matter just as much as the big ones.”

    Yes, so true. I noticed that as well.

    Thank you so much for sharing your journey with us because as you share, we learn and feel inspired. I LOVE all the photos you shared. You look beautiful in them.

    Have a great week, my friend. And Happy September. I’m so looking forward to Autumn and Winter!

    X

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. I can relate to what you said about feeling closer to your parents even after they’ve passed. With my dad, I’ve felt that too — moments where it’s almost like he’s right here with me, guiding me or just sharing a presence. It’s such a strange mix of loss and connection, but it’s also comforting in its own way. I’ve been trying to meditate more — quiet my brain — so that maybe I can sense him more.

      Thank you for sharing your journey with me. I’m so grateful for your words because they’ve helped me so much.

      It’s been so lovely here weather-wise. Every time my windows are open, I think of you! Have a wonderful week, my friend! 😘💜

      Like

      Reply

      2. Probably Growing Pains — the episode where Sandy (Matthew Perry) drives drunk and dies. Looking back now, it feels especially tragic knowing how his own life turned out.

        Do you remember Afterschool Specials? Some of those were traumatic, too. I might have to see if I can find a YouTube rabbit hole on those…

        Liked by 1 person

  8. Your post and the comments are all beautiful. Keep showing up for yourself. Grief really does show up in all kinds ways, with so many complex layers. I’m currently working through two counterintuitive griefs. That of recovery from chronic illness and of IVF, both cases in which I’ve been gifted a path forward.. but there is still a sense of loss of the paths I had envisioned for myself.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Oh, friend, thank you so much for sharing this. What you said about grief showing up in counterintuitive ways really resonates with me. I’ve found the same — even with a path forward, there’s still grief for the life I imagined with my dad, the relationship I wish we’d had longer. Those layers you mentioned are so real. I know how vulnerable it feels to hold both recovery and loss at the same time. I’m sending you so much love. 😘💜

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  9. I agree that grief is complex and layered. And it certainly does change us. You sure find out who your true friends are when you’re first going through your grief journey, too.

    This post about grief was perfect timing too, as the date of Phil’s anniversary is the 25th. It’s a hard month for me.

    FWIW, I still see the light in your eyes. I think you’re beautiful.

    The book, Narrative Healing sounds really good. I put it on my library TBR list.

    Love the song you listed, Portion Control. Beautiful voice, cool lyrics. Putting it on my Spotify playlist.

    Very interesting documentary on the TV programs. I didn’t realize there were all those taboo subjects and rather traumatizing episodes on some of those programs back then.

    xoxo

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Girllll, you sure do find out who your friends are (and family, too).

      I know, my friend. I’m sending you so much love. You’ve taught me so much about grief — thank you for sharing it with me and my mom. We are so grateful for you.

      Thank you, friend. I think you are too. 😘

      It is good — it’s better the second time around. I’m really writing a lot more this time, really getting into the prompts. She also talks about breathing and yoga poses too.

      I love it too! I just found it over the weekend and I can’t stop listening to it.

      Very traumatizing. We also had traumatizing back-to-school specials. Gah.

      xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  10. I take away so many things when I read your tater tots blog. Right before I opened WordPress, I was overly concerned with an issue that came up today. It was beginning to weigh on me. Your post reminded me of my father and 1) how minute of an issue I was wasting energy on and 2) memories of him providing fatherly advice. I imagined what he would have said to me and I was able to set the issue aside and feel at peace.

    Everyone grieves in their own way on their own timetables. I’m in year 7 of losing my dad. I’m not sure if the sense of loss ever leaves you. There are just different degrees. At least for me. But last weekend, my sister told a funny story about my dad and we all had a big hearty laugh and we smiled. While we still miss him, it was a moment we could celebrate his joy, for a change. I’m not sure when we crossed that bridge to get here. But I am appreciative of that shared moment.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Thank you so much for sharing this. I sometimes worry that writing about my grief will sound like I’m dwelling, but like you said, it really just shifts into different degrees over time. I’m so glad this post gave you perspective and reminded you of your dad’s advice — that’s such a beautiful way to carry him forward.

      And I love what you said about laughing with your sister. That feels so good, doesn’t it? To celebrate their joy. We’ve had those moments too, saying how my dad would be laughing or smiling right along with us. Sometimes it feels like he never really left.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  11. Sometimes grief takes awhile. For decades my Dad and I were at odds. 6 months before he had a stroke that lead to an internal infection, we were on friendly terms and for the first time in forever we were bonding. 6 months is all I got out of 49 years, as a son putting up walls. He died in August of 2019. There was no funeral, but there was the pandemic and by Aug 2021 there was finally a private family gathering with his ashes spread around a newly planted tree in his widows yard (she eventually sold that house but not before I was given a leaf, that i could press and keep as a memento in 2023. I do not keep in contact with his widow (who I never accepted as a step-Mother, when he remarried her a year after Mom passed, I was in my early 30’s) primarily because of a negative voice mail message about me meant for my brother when I was going through a hopeful phase when Dad was in the hospital. Sorry for the long comment. Let’s just say that after 6 years if not really knowing how to feel, when last month happened. I genuinely thought a lot about him and missed him, even had a few visitation dreams. 😊😇

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Thank you for sharing this. I’m glad you had those months of connection with your dad — what a meaningful gift. With my dad, we had a pretty good relationship, but we weren’t as close as I wished. After his cancer diagnosis, though, the walls came down and we grew close, knowing we had a deadline. Those moments of connection, no matter how long or short, really do become so precious.

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

  12. Grief is such a journey. I think that losses stay with us but they evolve over time. It just becomes a part of us and in that way, I think it gets easier. It feels like the first year is a lot of shock and sadness, and then it kind of mellows out – at least that’s my experience.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I like how you put it, that it becomes part of us. The shock and sadness of that first year are so overwhelming, and it’s been comforting for me too to notice how it slowly changes shape, even if it never fully goes away.

      By the way — I wasn’t able to comment on your blog yesterday. I tried twice and it kept giving me a 404 error. 😔

      Like

      Reply

  13. Oh Kari this post resonates so much with me, especially the point about the different types of grief – grieving not just the loss of a person who we love (or previously loved), but also the loss of who we once were. Change is difficult, especially change that happens to us rather than is chosen by us.

    I remember back when I was dating in my fifties that a friend of mine shared a statistic about how long it took to recover from any form of trauma or significant emotional experience, suggesting that you’re unable to make good decisions during that recovery period. A pretty depressing statistic if it were true, for the time period was lengthy.

    With experience, I can see that the statistic meant well in that there’s no doubting such experiences will impact your life and your ability to live it to the full, including how you make decisions. But the advice I would give is that more care should be taken over decision making rather than making a blanket statement that you’re unable to make good ones. Otherwise, you can see how easy it would be to just give up if you have a sequence of difficult experiences.

    I know what you mean about not remembering what you read when in the storm, but there’s no doubting that the process of reading was calming or providing some form of refuge, so it wasn’t wasted time.

    <3 <3 <3

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Change is so hard — especially the kind we don’t get a say in.

      That statistic is depressing, especially since most of us are always recovering from some kind of trauma. So basically, none of us should be in relationships. Did I just solve all the world’s problems?? I think I did. 🤣

      I totally agree that reading is never wasted time. I keep up with my soul homework every morning, and I hit the library at least once a week — sometimes more. Motivation’s a little low right now, but I’m making reading and my morning devotional time a priority. 😘😊💜

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. I must admit to be really quite cross when she shared that statistic. I suspect she was using to support her decision to delay seeking a partner, but she was ignoring the fact that – for some people – there isn’t only have one trauma/significant event to recover from, there can be a whole sequence of them.

        I don’t know what I’d do without reading – it’s my happy place. I know my emotional state impacts my selection of material, and I just go with the flow on that. I’m loving that – across the ocean – there’s you with your daily reading practice too <3

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I completely get why that statistic rubbed you the wrong way. Life isn’t neat and tidy like that, and for many of us, it isn’t just one trauma to “bounce back” from—it’s layer upon layer. Reducing it down to a single recovery timeline feels dismissive of how complex healing really is.

        And yes, reading! I feel the same way—it’s my escape. I love that we’re both making space for it every day, even an ocean apart. 💜

        Like

  14. Not sappy at all, Kari. Could not agree more with “grief isn’t one story, but many layered ones.” I know what you mean about losing focus, motivation, even how you read a book. You’re motivating me to write about a recent session with my OT, about our brains and factors in their functioning. I’ve been (still am, largely) in a similar place (disenfranchised grief for me). (But, because of how grief has impacted my brain, I might not get to it any time soon!) I appreciate all the things you’re sharing. I loved the article about social media and how it’s changing; the analogy to Parable of the Cave is so apt. More and more, I just want the real world.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Disenfranchised grief — why aren’t there more books and articles about it? I didn’t even know there was a word for it until after my friend died, and then I realized there are other griefs I’ve experienced too. I’m sending you so much love, my friend.

      I just want the real world too. Ella signed up for Facebook for the first time this week because she needs it for her job. Gah…

      Like

      Reply

  15. I always appreciate hearing the perspective of other people who are on the same path, even as I’m sorry about it. Thank you for sharing.

    My grief feels less visceral, but broader. I was busy with bureaucracy and my dad during year one of grief. I was grieving the death of my mother, but that busywork somehow distracted me a bit from the blow.

    This second year, I’m more aware of the foreverness of her death, and that impacts me differently. I felt quite overwhelmed with grief upon realizing my mother would never know my dog, for instance.

    I also find I’m able to draw on her life a little for inspiration now – what would Mom do – and even start retelling the funny stories. It’s no longer agony to remember.

    *

    That is so weird – I literally made a joke about Publisher’s Clearing House earlier this week while talking to my dad.

    *

    I’m sure I read this somewhere, but grief feels like being adrift, rudderless, on the sea.

    I relate completely to feelings of paralysis and inertia. My motivation feels quite frozen at times, save for reorganizing. It is getting better.

    *

    I’m dealing with big changes at home – daughter and grandkids have moved in. Good and necessary, but still big changes, and that inspires a bit of grief. I recognize it more easily now.

    *

    I love Linus.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I appreciate it too. It’s so comforting to know we aren’t alone in this. Thank you for being here and for sharing your grief perspective and journey — it means so much.

      OMG, bureaucracy. We helped my mom with so much of it last year and it was maddening. I can’t imagine going through it again. But you’re right — even in busywork, there can be some gratitude.

      When I read your comment, I was nodding along and even talking back to my computer screen — everything you said I could relate to. The foreverness really hit me last fall. Autumn was my dad’s favorite season, and I remember hearing football on the TV for the first time since winter. Mike had it on, and it made me realize my dad wouldn’t be watching. I felt so homesick in that moment — like I wanted to sob, vomit, and scream all at once.

      The Publishers Clearing House synchronicity is so cool.

      Adrift at sea — yessss.

      My motivation is slowly coming back too. Over the summer, I started deep cleaning again and realized I hadn’t done that since my dad got sick. I’m still not there yet, but I’m trying to be patient with myself.

      I’m glad they’ve moved in and you’re all settled. All changes bring some grief for me, too. My youngest just started driving and got her first job — I’m so proud and happy, but deep down I feel sad too, knowing my dad will never see these things.

      And I love Linus too 💜

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  16. It has been 25 years since my father died. The first five were raw and wrenching. After that, it stopped feeling like I was giving birth to grief each day or week or month. I started being able to remember him wistfully, then fondly, then even with a bit of a laugh and a smile.

    I was, as a teenager, often irritated and angry with my father. He was uncompromising and demanding. His love was true but required high standards in everything. It was only after I got older that I truly understood him and appreciated him. I am very much like him, but tempered and gentled.

    This understanding made my grief harder, yet in some ways easier. I miss him in more cerebral ways than physical. I think that will come to you as well.

    Your post sounds as if you’re grieving not just your dear father, but past parts of your life when things were more familial and outwardly joyful. It’s so understandable to mourn changes in our lives; transitions are difficult, as are examinations of our lives brought on by those changes.

    When I look into your eyes, I don’t see a lack of light at all. I see a gentle wisdom and experience. I see you.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you for sharing this with me. My mom and I were just talking about how we felt lighter after the one-year anniversary — and then realized, silly us, this is going to be a lifetime of grieving him. So we ride the waves, right? What you said brings me comfort, because sometimes I feel (deep down) that it must be silly to still cry for him after all this time — even though I know in my rational brain it isn’t silly at all. It feels so good to share this with others who understand.

      I really connect with what you said about growing to understand your dad more over time. Mine was almost the opposite — we weren’t as close as we probably wished we had been, but his cancer diagnosis brought us closer. As hard as it was, I’m grateful for that time, even though it’s what eventually took him away from us.

      You put words to something I’ve been struggling to name — it really is both the loss of my dad and the loss of those more familial, outwardly joyful parts of life. Hearing you say that makes me feel seen in a way I didn’t expect.

      And your last lines… they brought me to tears. To be seen that way, with gentle wisdom and light, is such a gift. Thank you for offering that to me. 😘💜

      Like

      Reply

  17. If not for those Special Episodes, I’d not have learned anything important.

    I don’t see your face anything other than lovely, with wide, hopeful, loving eyes. But we often see others differently than they see themselves.

    I’m glad you are getting through it, but it does take time, and I don’t think it ever really leaves us. We care a lot, we love deeply, and how can your heart just heal from losing those who fill it?

    I’m sure I’m carrying some deep grief, but I think it’s been there for so long that I don’t even notice it anymore.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Right? Or Afterschool Specials.

      I love that you see me that way. Thank you, friend 😘

      YES to all of this. I loved him for a lifetime — it doesn’t just go away.

      I agree. We get accustomed to it. It’s like that graphic my friend drew with the grief staying the same size, but we grow bigger around it. If you were next to me, I’d hug you.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  18. Oh, my friend, I hear the heartache from your writing and I am so sorry. It’s so hard. I hate not having my Mom, Dad, and best friend anymore. It sucks. But I agree with that quote, “death is part of life”. But once I was actually faced with it, it always feels different from what I expected it to be. Not necessary bad, just different. I know I will see them again. That’s what I hold on to. BTW, what darling pictures you found! Love them!! Have a great weekend! xo

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Oh, I hear you. It really does feel so different once you’re living it, doesn’t it? I feel the same way—you can “know” death is part of life, but being in it is another thing altogether. I love what you said about holding on to the hope of seeing them again. That’s such a comforting thought.

      And thank you about the pictures! I was so happy to find them tucked away. I hope you had a good weekend! xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  19. Grief is so hard, and I appreciate you sharing your journey here. I’ve not lost a parent and I can’t imagine. I can imagine it does cause a shift in you.

    The think I grieve for is the easier days that were when my kids were younger – bigger kid bigger problems really rings true in my world. There’s always something going on, something or someone to worry about. I also miss the life I had when I didn’t have to work so hard in my home life to connect and engage and correct the two newbies. We’re making progress, but dang it’s exhausting.

    I’m totally interested in this look at the Very Special Episodes. My parents were def not watching/screening those before we saw them. Bah ha ha.

    I love that you just found these pictures. Weird to think our pictures were always in an envelope with the negatives and now they’re everywhere. I struggle to organized all of them.

    Take care.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. I really connect with what you said about grieving the easier days. It’s such a real kind of grief that doesn’t get talked about enough—the shift as kids grow and the energy it takes to meet them where they are now. I remember thinking when my kids were younger that it felt so hard at times—and it was. Now it’s just a different kind of parenting, isn’t it? It doesn’t get easier, just harder in different ways, and I think that’s something I didn’t expect.

      And yes, the Very Special Episodes! I don’t think anyone was screening them in my house either, which probably explains a lot. Ha.

      The photo envelopes! You just brought back such a clear memory for me—waiting to pick them up, flipping through them in the car, and that stack of doubles with the negatives tucked in. I’ve got albums full of pictures in the basement, and now they’re all on my phone. 💜

      xoxo

      Like

      Reply

I'd love to hear from you