THE PASSING OF A NAMESAKE
“No one ever told me that grief felt like fear”
Earlier this year, after a long illness, my father, the namesake of my company, died. His death was not a surprise – we had been preparing ourselves for it for quite some time – but I was ill-equipped for just how much his passing would irreversibly change me and the whole world around me. The initial grief felt like a tidal wave of pain that swallowed me whole, but the sense of grief had been looming for a long time – the more I tried to fight it, the more I tried to power through it, the harder the whiplash would feel. I had no choice but to surrender to it, so I did.
Towards the end of 2025, I opted to hit pause on pursuing any new projects. To be frank, my heart just wasn’t in it; all I could think about was trying my best to prepare for the ending of the story in front of me that I was never ready for to end. It’s hard to find passion for something when the one person you want so badly to tell it all about is quickly disappearing right before your eyes.
The creativity I did manage to muster, I felt, was only appropriate for pouring into honoring his memory. I had the privilege of writing his obituary, speaking at his memorial, and creating all the materials for it – all of which drained me in ways I was not prepared for, but I could not find the words, the inspiration, or the motivation to work on anything else. I put everything I had into it because in the fog of grief, it was the only thing I could do.
Now that all that has passed and it feels that fog has started to lift, I have started to think about what I want this thing, this venture I so aptly named after my father, to be now. The clarity (and the little patience for bullshit) that comes when a parent passes can provide a lot of decisive direction, knowing what you will and will not tolerate. But it can also leave you in a kind of haze, wondering, “What do I really want out of this life?” You are forced to, for the first time, be faced with a sense of your own mortality, and what a sobering reality that is.
There are two philosophies that I have taken on while going through this process:
One: Radical Acceptance.
Being with someone while they go through the process of dying brings on a sobering reality of just how little you are able to control in this world. I can only move forward from his death through being pragmatic, by understanding, and accepting what I am able to control from moment to moment.
Can I do anything about someone else’s behavior? No, not really – but I can choose how I react to it and whether or not I will be around it.
Can I do anything about someone else’s choices?No. They are also their own person. My only option is how I choose to react to it and whether or not I choose to tolerate it.
What I can accept is what I can control in each situation. And the only thing I can change about anything is my reaction or my choices – I can choose who I want to become through those actions.
Two: I Honor My Father By Taking Care of His Daughter.
With profound grief, there is, of course, a deep well of sadness. But what is often not discussed is the deep sense of emptiness felt when you lose a person who meant so much to you. Suddenly, you are missing this person who, in a way, shaped your identity, and what’s left behind is a gaping hole that nothing can ever fill or replace, nor would you want to.
In the weeks after my father’s death, there were moments where that space created such an ache in my chest that it felt my heart might implode. It was agonizing and lonely. But I had a choice: I could surrender to that feeling and let it swallow me completely, or I could remember that my father would want his daughter to be happy and healthy – I chose the latter. I remind myself of this on those days when it feels especially hard, on the days when nothing makes sense, I honor my father by prioritizing the health and well-being of his daughter.
Over the past few weeks, I have radically shifted my routines, priorities, how I spend my time, and who I choose to spend it with. I have never felt calmer and have gained greater clarity about the importance of family, community, and a deeper understanding of what really matters.
What’s Next?
I’ve been asking myself this question a lot over the last few weeks since we had Dad’s memorial service in April. I’ve been fortunate enough to have the ability to take my time and really evaluate what I want to do, and what I’ve been able to discern during that time is this:
I want to do work that I feel is meaningful and has a positive impact
I want to continue to work on projects that allow me to be creative
I want to build strategies that help organizations leave a lasting impact and grow
I want to ensure that I work with companies and organizations that are intent on creating meaningful change that leaves communities better than they found them
In the initial wake of my father’s death, I was certain that initial spark, that fire that launched Mollerup Creative Strategies, had been fully extinguished in the tidal wave of grief. But then I reminded myself that all of this grief is the expression of how much you love a person after they’re gone – it’s how you keep their memory alive within you. So, I am choosing to use my grief to dust myself off, reimagine this little venture of mine, and start from the beginning – it’s part of how I will keep my father’s memory alive by putting my energy back into the company I named after him.
I hope I make you proud, Daddio.
