A word on grief. Why my grief and entrepreneurial journeys are linked

My Dad was dying, so I accidentally set up my first business.

My entrepreneurial journey began because my Dad was dying. This means that two of the biggest things to happen in my life have always been intrinsically linked, and right at this very moment, this feels prevalent.

I miss my Dad more than ever. It’s been seven years since he died. I was working at an agency in London, Beauty Seen, back then. The company lost a global project which meant there was an opportunity for me to take a local role. Which, under any ‘normal’ circumstances I would have happily done. I loved it there, and was set on progressing further up the career ladder in a place where I felt settled. But then one Summer, my Dad fell ill out of nowhere it seemed, and so I spent weeks feeling lost, as I commuted from London to Brighton (where I lived), and Brighton to Eastbourne (where he lived). It was all just a bit too much. And with the opportunity to take voluntary redundancy instead of the new role, I reluctantly quit.

My husband being the type of creative he is, effortlessly knocked up a brand for me and my sister, being the proactive solicitor type she is, made it all official. And so, ‘Known’ was born. It wasn’t my dream to set up an agency, or even work for myself at this point. It was survival.

I built Known through connections. Great individuals who trusted me enough to recommend me, or enough to take me on. As such I landed three good projects from the get-go - one client I still work with today. Then something else unexpectedly happened. After unsuccessfully trying to conceive for quite some time, I fell pregnant. I think I was unknowingly pregnant at my Dads funeral, but having a baby wasn’t on my mind at this point. So, after three businesses had only just trusted me to take on their work, I needed some back-up in place, before I could tell them I was going on maternity. Not that I ever did go on maternity (which I wouldn’t totally recommend), but perhaps that’s one to unpack another time. And so, my first colleague came into the fold - again - someone I still work with today. Known then suddenly became a company, with a team and clients, and something more than me hustling for work here and there, which was what I was expecting to happen after I left my job, seemingly completely unqualified to run a business.

What I’m finding strange right now, is just how much I’m thinking about him and actively missing him. That’s the thing about loss, it’s always there, ready to rear its ugly head at all the predictable big life moments, but almost more annoyingly, at lots of the random little ones too. It feels more like it was seven months ago that he died, not years. It’s not like I’ve not missed him consistently since he died, but right now I feel it, badly.

He feels more distant now. When I think about his face or his laugh or his mannerisms, the vision is blurry. It used to be high definition and now it’s like I need any eye test, and that upsets me. Whilst at the same time, missing him and his memory is so deep rooted to my core that I feel like it’s impossible to forget him.

Another thing I find myself doing, is always using the word dead or death to describe his whereabouts. Never passing, passed away, gone, not with us anymore, or any of the other more indirect ways of saying that he has died. I wonder why that is? It’s like it’s my subconscious way of letting people know how intensely I’m feeling his loss by socking it to them.

My Dad was a serial entrepreneur. I think I’m finding his absence harder as I can probably relate to him more now than ever, but that’s difficult as I don’t get to tell him or enjoy that feeling of closeness and connection that I think we would have had now.

Do you know what else is hard - grief has a wicked way of making you doubt yourself. I guess because you can’t ask the person for reassurance. But I keep wondering, did he know I respected him and his work ethic and many of the other qualities he had? As a child to a parent you often find yourself calling out the negative traits you see in them. You don’t feel like it’s your job to give your parent a pat on the back, as you’re the ‘child’ and they’re the ‘adult’, and I feel guilty about that. I can also relate to him now, not only as an entrepreneur (I always feel funny calling myself that - the imposter syndrome curse), but as a parent too.

I feel guilty that maybe I didn’t make it known clearly enough just how much I thought of him. How proud I am of him. How lucky I feel to have had him. I’m grieving not just the version I did have of him, maybe the one I didn’t appreciate as much as I should have, but all the versions of him I don’t get to experience. The Grandad, the businesses confident, the friend - as I mature and feel that we would have even more common ground. All the versions of him I would have had if his death hadn’t robbed me of them.

I miss him. I miss old him, and the new him I never got to experience, I feel like it’s impossible not to miss them too. Time is a healer, yes, I don’t break down into uncontrollable fits of grief anymore, but time in some ways makes it worse, as the longer this grief goes on, the more I feel I miss him. And time can’t heal that. All I can do is feel grateful that - whether he meant to or not, nature or nurture - he did instil in me a good work ethic, and some silly level of self-belief that even when I don’t know what I’m doing, I can give it a good go.