The day my father died, my life changed. This may sound obvious to many, but it definitely was not obvious to me before having experienced it – at least not in the way it actually and deeply affected the person that I am.

There is the pain and anguish one can expect – the realisation that you will never see him again, that you will not have another Christmas day altogether, that he will not be there for your wedding or ever get to see his grandchildren. That your mother is now alone and that your grandmother has lost a son. But there were changes to my inner being that I did never expect and that no one could ever explain to me, or prepare me for, beforehand – it is just something I had to go through.

Within a few seconds of being told the news, a seemingly never-ending to-do list was compiled in my mind, the top priority being to call my mother and tell her that I needed to speak to her in person before she left the house to begin her daily errands. There was no time to register his death – I had to jump into a car and get to my parents’ house, thoughts flooding through my head throughout the drive. How do I tell my mother that the man with whom she had spent the last 35 years of her life, the man who had left their home only a couple of hours earlier to go to work like any other normal day, would not be coming back? I never thought I would ever have to do this – at least not in these sudden and unexpected circumstances. Much less did I ever think that I would have to break the news to my grandmother – a wife may expect that at some point she may have to contend with the death of her husband (however sudden this may have been), but a parent should never have to bear the untimely death of their child. Breaking the news in person to my mother first and my grandmother later in the day is the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life to this day – and that changed me.

Having told my mother, we rushed to the scene of the incident. We were allowed some time alone in the office where he had suddenly passed away, with his body just laying there. It was surreal. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to say. I just sat on the office floor beside my dead father – and that changed me.

The few days that followed can almost be described as a blur. You have to deal with the immediate concern of ensuring that your mother feels supported and not alone, the attention drawn to you by your father’s sudden passing, the funeral and all the emotion that comes with. It is hectic and mentally exhausting – but it passes. You begin to form the semblances of your normal life again, your daily routines and interactions with people. But something has changed – it is not just the expectable change in your life that the loss of a father brings, but rather a change deep within. The way I saw things was no longer the same.

Meaning. I experienced a near-instant desire to search for and redefine that which gives my being a sense of purpose, rather than seeking instant gratification while just wandering through the years. It became apparent to me that the past few years were somewhat spent in a loop, seeking the same short-term pleasures in an almost routine manner – and I did not want that anymore. I felt like I had suddenly come to the natural conclusion of that phase in my life and wanted to enter the next.

The weight of social pressure and being susceptible to what others thought was lifted. I gained a new perspective, releasing myself from many stresses or worries that stemmed from social expectancy -that form of stress seemed insignificant now. I felt lighter and that allowed me to focus on the big-picture matters that merited my attention and focus.

In re-assessing the relationships with those I hold most dear and accepting that some were simply in a different stage in their lives, a pressing need to be around people with similar goals or mind-frames appeared. This wasn’t an easy exercise, as at times I felt alienated from a number of close friends who were in their own phase within their own life journey. But once I had accepted who I am and where I now found myself mentally and emotionally, I was a much happier person for it. It allowed me to forge close relationships with people outside my immediate circle who were on a similar path. I felt the urge to cement the relationship with the person with whom I was already sure I wanted to share my journey through life. There was no room for any excuses any longer – waiting for the “perfect time” or for me to feel “ready”. I had just been holding on to that loop, and now I wanted rid of it and to move forward with purpose – and that made me happy.

In time we built a family and, despite it not being easy, there is nothing that gives me more satisfaction than being responsible for them and working towards their happiness. That responsibility gave me a sense of purpose which went beyond what I could have ever imagined. Meaning. The meaning I was yearning for – which I can only assume is found in different places depending on the individual, but which I found in my own family.

I’ve become a sum of all the parts of the experience that began on the day my father died – they have helped build a resilience and near single-minded willingness to search for meaning and give it value over anything else. It is paradoxical that the sudden and untimely death of a father can lead to a new way of thinking that made me feel light of mind and, ultimately, more content. And while not a day goes by that I do not wish that he was still here to share moments with or call for his direct straight-to-the-point advice, I will be always be grateful that he helped me in my own internal search and growth.