How Stoicism Helped Me Overcome the Trauma of Losing My Father

Stoicism is a philosophy that teaches you how to live a virtuous and meaningful life, regardless of external circumstances. But how can it help you cope with the trauma of losing a loved one? In this article, I will share my personal story of how stoicism helped me overcome the grief of losing my father and find my purpose in life.

24th October 2017 😪

Six years ago, I began to learn the ways of the Stoics as a second-year philosophy student. I was trying to find my path between the calling of the Catholic Priesthood or the rich vocation of Matrimony. I was searching for a solid foundation on which to stand.

As they say, “Life doesn’t happen to you; it happens for you.” Back then, I hadn’t fully analyzed the meaning of this saying. Armed only with a rudimentary understanding of Stoic philosophy, I set sail on my journey of self-discovery, where I realized that while you can’t control what happens to you, you can control your reactions to life’s events. This newfound wisdom led me to ponder the teachings of Stoicism, a philosophy that produced prominent figures like the great Emperor and author of “Meditations,” Marcus Aurelius.

However, reflecting on everything around the demise of my father, I sadly acknowledge that my knowledge of Stoic philosophy was still shallow. I became so entangled in incoherent thoughts that I lost my way. My response to this excruciating event was overwhelmingly negative. It took a toll on my academic performance, and my life felt out of alignment.

I was unprepared to live the philosophy I professed and loved. Thus, I became traumatized. Experiencing trauma is a normal reaction, but it was as if my mind was haunted by the incessant knocking of death. I became desensitized to the illusion of the grim reaper and was no longer afraid of death itself. My sole fear revolved around the well-being of my family, hoping none of them would experience the same fate. The true pain of my death, I realized, lay in the fact that those who loved me would miss me terribly. This insight made me acutely aware of the agony my mother would endure if she were to grieve my loss.

My mother began having dreams, which she interpreted as signals of death lurking around us. These dreams heightened the anxiety that resided within me, and each time my phone rang, and her name appeared on the screen, my heart would skip a beat. I hesitated to answer, but I knew it was my mother, the woman who gave me my heart. I needed to check on her. I also dreaded seeing my younger brother’s tears. I silently prayed that his thoughts did not mirror my own.

From 2017 to 2020, I felt like I was in a state of perpetual darkness, chased by an unseen shadow. I was scared of being alone, even when surrounded by friends. I couldn’t share my premonitions with my friends; it was a personal battle that I had to confront alone. They couldn’t fully understand me, as they were dealing with their own challenges, and I didn’t want to burden them with my struggles. I gnashed my teeth in silence when they were not around.

In the midst of my doubt, I found inspiration in an unreleased song by J. Cole, “Show Me Something.” I refused to let my tears fall and instead sought understanding to clear my mind. I was lost, and I even fell into a mild state of atheism, questioning the role of God in my life. Modern philosophical thinking made me more skeptical of the supremacy of the supernatural over the mundane. My philosophical journey became a quest to find myself.

In my final year, the rapper I mentioned earlier became an inspiration. In the depths of my doubt, I found myself praying, asking God for a sign to show me something, anything. I began connecting the dots in the lives of those I considered heroes, individuals who had changed the world. I realized that their life journeys followed a pattern, and I discovered that faith played a significant role. Their faith was not rooted in the known but in an assurance and conviction confirmed by the Unmoved Mover.

What ultimately restored me was the same question that guided a great monk who lived an austere life, St. Bernard: “Why am I here?” In philosophy, we were taught to ask more questions than seek answers; questions were the Rosetta stone to life. I found my question, my “Eureka” moment.

To combat the taunting presence of the grim reaper, I began asking why great individuals lived to a ripe old age or died fulfilled. The only answer I could find, after questioning and re-questioning, was “Purpose.” While I haven’t fully discovered my own purpose, I am on a relentless quest to ensure I live my life in the spirit of Gandhi: as if I will die tomorrow and learn as if I will live forever.

I am growing up, Dad, and I hope you’d be proud of me. 

About Author

Christopher Salihu

Christopher Salihu is a graduate of Philosophy and Education. He is passionate about creative and technical writing. He loves learning new things and is presently interning at the ready writers.

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