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Found 13 results

  1. Feb 6, 2023. For days I have been able to keep my emotions under control in dealing with the decision to put Bambaloo to rest. When the thought of sadness begins to enter my mind, I quickly distract myself with a project. Am I in the denial part of grieving, for the anger part is pretty much over. Second guessing is entering my mind, doubting my decision to end Bambaloo's life to quickly and making excuses to myself that other's pressured me to act quickly because she will get worse fast. No Diabetes is not a death sentence for dogs, but it surely doesn't help when a person cannot afford the supplies. The plan was to care for her without meds, change her diet, and let things run it's course. She was actually doing very well except for the cold weather. But repeatedly being told by the vets all the terrible things that could happen within days, such as her possibly going blind overnight. Or she could be in excruciating pain. Oh, it happened to someone else I was told sealing her life sentence. It didn't matter I read in more than one scientific paper on the subject of Diabetes in dogs, that they can live up to 2 years untreated. Of course, untreated will allow the other conditions associated with that disease to progress. Well, who really knows the facts? I listened to my vets, and I went into panic mode. The guilt hit me today when I saw her photo. Did I act to hastily? I knew there are so many grants out there to help people in need for vet bills. I found them. I just needed to fill some out. But my mind was in such a tizzy, I didn't know which way to turn or who to turn too for advice for everyone was saying put her out of her misery. Well, as I reflect, she wasn't in misery. In fact, she showed no signs of Diabetes other than drinking more water. She ate, she vomited a couple times probably because I gave her to much to eat. She had no pain other than the effect of the cold on her arthritis. I know second guessing only beats up my mind and in turn, my body. It makes my legs weak and walk in a slouched position. Her photo's take on a new meaning now. Did I cheat her? I did quickly buy her a steak and made her 'special' dinner. Did I lie to her? Did I trick her? It doesn't matter for what is done is done. I cannot bring her back and did in fact out of curiosity, look at other Australian Cattle dog photos last night. It's strange, that none had that look she had. I guess I was lucky. But, I have to continue on and learn from my actions. Whether they were hasty or not. Believe me, I did not sleep for 36 hours straight when the vet said, she MAY have Diabetes. She MAY have kidney failure. All the maybe's put me in a panic mode. Those nights I cried for I just didn't know what to do as she came and laid by me to comfort me. I did learn sadly, at her expense, not to just jump at the first signs of an issue and listening to others over my own judgement. Second guessing does not help at all. It will be awhile for me to move to the next step in grieving for my other dog has been affected by Bambaloo's disappearance. I cannot beat myself up over this and will move into the next level of acceptance. But in just a flicker of a candle's flame, I can be right back into anger mode. Oh well, it is another challenge to face in life.
  2. ~This is much longer than I had intended it to be so if you take the time to read it all, thank you so much.~ I lost my best friend and partner to alcohol poisoning a few months ago. I'm 33, he was 36. We've been engaged, broken up, friends and back together again during the last 16 years. He was my first love. I like to tell myself that I'm coping okay because there are some days I can go to the shop or see friends or family and it seems like a normal day, but those days only make the next day even more unbearable. Like trying to live without him only makes his absence much more obvious and painful. Any time we argued over how much I was worried about the drinking and that I was terrified I'd wake up to him dead some day, he'd tell me not to be stupid. When I imagined that scenario I was certain it would end with me in a psychiatric ward. Too much had happened in life already and there was no way I'd ever cope with him dying. I don't understand how it's possible that my worst fear came true. I don't understand how I'm still sane. I don't understand how family members can already be asking, "You're still feeling that bad? I thought you'd be a bit better by now." I don't understand how during the two weeks it took for the coroner to release him and for his service to take place, his mum and I were making arrangements together and now she won't speak to me. The last message she sent me was so shockingly dismissive and cruel it made me physically ill for days. She turned up at our house 3 days after his funeral service and told me I had four weeks to move out. She removed his belongings the next evening while I was out, without giving me any warning. She took our cat home the day she found him dead in our home and at the time I knew it was the best thing for them both. Now she is refusing me access to my own cat and I regret being so thoughtful. She isn't "just a cat" either, she's our cat. We got her when we were living in another country together ten years ago. She's all that's left of our life together. When his mum referred to me as his 'special friend' during the service, I brushed it off. She didn't really know if we were together or not, we didn't talk about our relationship status with anyone this time around. It was nobodies business and we were happier without everyone's opinions and reactions. When she made me leave the house as if I was some stranger renting a room, I held my tongue. I had no rights, he owned the house and left no will. When she told me she needed some time before she had anymore visitors, I respected that and I didn't contact her for almost 6 weeks, even though she promised me she wasn't going anywhere, that I would always be welcome, that I could visit our fluffy baby whenever I wanted. When I finally tried contacting her, only asking to see the cat, the response I got from her was shameful. I don't know how she can be so cold and insensitive and it pains me so much when I wonder what her son would think of it all. He wouldn't have wanted it this way. A mother's grief, however unimaginable, is no excuse for this. It's Christmas soon and instead of he and I sitting watching movies and admiring our tree with our kitty snuggled up between us, I'm living in my brother's old room in my parents house struggling to remember what day it is. As if his absence isn't hard enough, everyone else is conveniently aware of how much time is passing. They're keeping a note of the things I'm managing and the things I'm not- especially if the things I'm not managing are putting others out. The evenings I pour a glass of wine are met with raised eyebrows. The amount of days each week I simply don't get out of bed don't outweigh the days I'm up pottering about, but they're still noted. I'm not eating enough or drinking enough water. I need to go outside more. I need to see friends more. I should maybe see friends less and visit family more. I need to "let it go", life is unfair and I can't control how others treat me. I just have to "mourn the cat the same way you're mourning him. Remember, you still have the rest of your life to live. You can't let this break you." My instincts that day were telling me not to leave him, but he was so convincing. He'd been almost two months sober and our friend and I had had this long weekend planned for months. Why did he squeeze me extra tight as I was leaving though? Was it just an 'I love you' squeeze because we hadn't spent time apart in ages or was it something sinister? Did he want to die that night? Was he really drunk and he simply passed out and fell to the floor? Lay unconscious until he stopped breathing? Or could he feel something was wrong and he was too scared or too drunk to call for help? The coroner couldn't give me those answers. We didn't even get a time of death. I will never know why he was found on the kitchen floor, but the bedroom door upstairs was damaged and there was vomit on the duvet cover. How did he not fall coming down the stairs if he was that drunk? Why was his backpack on the counter along with some shopping, as if he'd just come in the door when it happened? If he was really drunk, drunk enough that he passed out or had a seizure, he couldn't have walked to the shop. Why did I leave him that day when I was still concerned? Why didn't I insist his mum break our front door down that night, when I was hundreds of miles away and knew something was wrong?? Why did I listen to her going on about not wanting to disturb the neighbours and that he was "probably just passed out asleep"? I lay awake all night in that hotel bed, wide awake, staring at our messages, praying I'd see him come online just once. I didn't even want a reply anymore. If I could just see him online, I could relax. I remember sitting trying to eat an egg for breakfast the next morning, knowing that no matter what, we were cutting our trip short and going home straight away. His mum called me as her husband was trying to climb a ladder and squeeze through our bedroom window. I remember hearing him open our front door and say, "call an ambulance." She hung up and I rushed back to our room. I remember our friend hugging me tightly on the bed as I rocked back and forward waiting for his mum to call me back. Our friend was promising me he'd be okay, that he was just being a selfish idiot again. Alcohol was the devil. He'd drank too much and passed out and maybe even needed his stomach pumped, but he'd be okay. I think she was trying to convince herself, because I knew she was wrong. His mum called me back, I cried out before she'd even told me he was gone and threw up. Our friend and I had met through my partner many years prior. They were old school friends. She must have been in so much shock and pain too, but she managed to somehow get us home that day. We had been best girlfriends from the day he had introduced us, two peas in a pod. During the reception, after the funeral service, there was a book people could write messages in. In our friends message, she thanked him for all the wonderful, hilarious memories and for giving her me. I couldn't even think of anything to write. I remember our drive home, but I couldn't go home because he was still on our kitchen floor with his mum holding him, waiting on the ambulance to take him to the morgue. I went to my parents house but I couldn't settle and I made them take me home that night. I remember walking towards our dark house with my key in hand, praying this was all a nightmare or some cruel joke and that he'd be in bed with the cat, waiting for me to get home and yell at him for the panic he'd caused. There was his backpack on the kitchen counter, along with an open packet of jam donuts and some pringles. When I looked in the bin I could see how much he'd drank. The corner cabinet door was damaged and the fruit bowl was on its side, like he'd maybe tried to grab hold of something. Everything was just as he'd left it. The tablet was plugged in and still running a game upstairs. An empty chocolate wrapper was lying on the table by the sofa in the lounge. His beanie hat was exactly where he always threw it after he got home. His vape was sitting charging. He'd bought a pot noodle and some tins of pepsi max. The new ginger flavour. They've stopped making it now. I lay on the floor, in the place I could see he had been and cried my heart out as my parents watched in dismay. Mum stayed over with me that night and I didn't clean up until the next day. His mum didn't seem happy that I'd cleaned up but that was my home, not hers. I woke up in that house everyday until the day of his service, expecting him to walk through the door at some stage with yet another pair of new trainers and a McDonald's cheeseburger. To be honest, I waited everyday after the service too. Even as I was packing up my boxes in the early hours of the morning, the day the removal crew were arriving, I was mad he wasn't there to help. Why did I have to do all this by myself? Why did I have to do it at all?? He'd asked me to move in with him the previous year when he bought the house and now he just leaves me to deal with this alone? 114 days later and I still can't process any of it. It helps to write it all down though. I haven't been crying a lot again, I go through phases, but this is cathartic. Willow, my mum's dog, was sick this past weekend. We had to take her to the emergency vet. I spent two nights awake with her, feeding her water from a syringe and keeping her temperature down with a cool cloth over her ears and paws. He was her favourite human. I think of that every time she's trying to give me slobbery kisses. I miss him so much my chest hurts. There are so many things already that I wish I could tell him. He'd probably have already seen it or read about it, but it kills me I can't share these things with him anymore. I've never felt so empty and alone. I don't feel like I have a home anymore, that I belong anywhere and I've never felt this way before. I have no idea how to face the rest of my life after this. If one more person says "one day at a time", I'll scream. I wanted to post something somewhere online, hoping for some relief and because there is a severe lack of mental health support in my local area atm due to covid restrictions and a crippled healthcare system. I also wanted to find out if anyone else has had any experience with partner's families turning cold towards you or treating you badly out of nowhere? That's what makes me feel sick most days at the moment and I've been trying my best to move forward and forgive his mum. I can't imagine her pain and I've never claimed to. Still, she has no right to dismiss my grief, no right to treat me like I no longer exist and can't see our cat. I know there's absolutely nothing I can do about it that won't cause more anger and pain and upset though. I keep coming back around to the idea that I must deserve all that's happened. For all the times I lost my patience with him and moaned at him over stupid things. Lecturing him for handling work and his stress the 'wrong way' and for not setting boundaries with his overbearing mother. I didn't take care of him well enough. I was always asking him for more than he was capable of giving. I didn't accept him as he was, I was too demanding. I never did the dishes. I stopped spending the evenings with him when he was drinking. I couldn't stand watching him drink so fast and get drunk so quickly. I couldn't stand the smell anymore, or how badly it made him snore. No matter how much I begged, he would just say, "I'll take a break tomorrow night." I would give ANYTHING to have that snore back now. I would sit with him every night, even have a few drinks with him. If he hadn't been sober for two months and hadn't been to the GP and started medication for his anxiety, it might not have killed him.
  3. My baby of 8 yrs whom We spolied and loved more than ourselves was attacked & killed by another dog while boarding in a kennel facility while me & hubby were on vacation.We have no kids and he is our life!There is a huge guilt on our part.What if we didn’t leave him, what if we didn’t go on vacation, all sorts of “what if.”We’re so broken that we both can’t sleep sincecwe found out (12.22.18).We cry ourselves to sleep & wake up crying.We skipped the Christmas celebratiom as we’re both on bed and miserable.I myself can’t & won’t do anything.We haven’t gone back to work.I’ve been so depressed & can’t forgive myself!I’m still grieving for the death of my dear dad in Aug.And now this.. I can’t handle all the pain!So much emotions overwhelmed me.I don’t want to leave my bed as I can’t stand seeing the rest of the house especially our family room where he stayed for 8 yrs.We have our daily routine that haunts me every second.Please I need advice & help! Thanks!
  4. I feel that no one my age can possibly understand the depth of the pain I have to live with everyday. Grief is a burden; for every loss, it's like you must carry a heavy bag that no one can see. I am carrying so much pain and it takes so much for me even to get through the day and do even one or two things. I feel so isolated by grief because I have been forced to experience so much tragedy at a time in my life when it seems that everyone else has everything. I am so resentful of social media. I also feel resentful of people who have ignored my losses, people who I considered to be friends, and then it feels so heartless that they can't even address such a huge loss in your life. I see people having kids and getting married and having huge family dinners and their lives are so full, it makes me feel even more alone. I try to be grateful for all that I have, and grateful that I had such meaningful relationships to begin with, but losing them is tearing me apart. I lost my father suddenly and tragically when I was 26. While I was still trying to get back on my feet, my brother was diagnosed with a rare cancer. During that time, my mom was very sick but it wasn't until another 6 months had passed that she was diagnosed with advanced cancer. My brother died within 18 months and I am approaching the 2 year anniversary of his death. My mom is now in palliative care and I am caring for her at home. I cannot bear another loss and losing my mom is disconnecting me from myself in a way the previous losses didn't. My mom is my best friend, my guide, and has helped me cope with all the pain in my life. I don't know how I will face anything without her. I want to retreat and hide away from the world but I am also afraid this loss will harden me and take all the joy from my life. I want more than anything to live, and yet, I am paralyzed by sadness.
  5. It's been almost two months since my grandma passed away. She was sick. And then she wasn't, and she was home and celebrating my seventeenth birthday, and two days later, she died. Ever since that night, I've been having trouble with really bad nightmares, about death each time. Death of my most important loved ones, my own death, and generally dark material. I went through a stage of anger and constant crying and now, I'm just lethargic. I never want to get out of bed. I feel like falling asleep all the time. My huge pile of extracurricular activities which I used to devote my heart and soul to, now seem like a chore. And no matter what, I can't bring myself to pick up my phone and talk to anyone, even my best friends. I put myself through school, and I managed a couple of social events, although they have never really interested me and now completely exhaust me, but phone calls are the worst. I can't pick up a phone and talk about the trivialities. My best friends are beginning to get annoyed. Worst of all, saying goodbye to someone close to me makes me go crazy. I keep imagining the worst scenarios and losing them forever until the next time I talk to them. I don't want to bring these things up with my mother because I know she is struggling. And my friends can only offer words of comfort, which I don't want. Everyone wants me to get over it now, since it was "only a matter of time". I just want to be able to breathe again.
  6. Hey, everyone. I need some help here, please. 7 weeks ago, I broke up with my depressed bf. We've been together for almost 3 years and I loved him so much. You know, that kind of love that's so warm, so comforting, so good to feel. It was great. Things started to derail when he lost two close family members last year, which contributed to his depression. I tried my best - for over a year - to support him, give him love and understanding. But his disease took its toll on me. Damn, depression is brutal! He drinks to cope with his pain and, for so many months, pushed me away the hardest he could. He seemed happy with everyone else, but me. I could feel I was losing him, I could feel him slipping through my fingers. And sadly, I'm the only one who realizes this (not even his freaking family acknowledge his depression). Well, he knows he's sick. But he won't seek for any kind of help. So I decided to break up, for my own mental sanity. He said we should go no contact, but, 3 weeks ago, started texting me again. Since the break-up, everything has been so tough. I can't find joy. I still feel this ache in my chest every single day. I miss him so much, all the time. I guess I was his rock, and now he doesn't have me, he started to see that alcohol and his friends aren't enough for him to cope with his never-ending pain. Did any of you go through something similar? Can any of you, please, tell me what I'm supposed to do? I can't stop talking to him - I'm pretty sure he will fall into a even darker place if he feels he's completely alone.
  7. Hello My Name is Shannon I am new to the forum. I lost my significant other of 6 years only 4 months ago. We shared 4 children together and life is just not the same. I cant figure out why I am numb, frozen and slowing down. Things have gotten very hard, I truly don't want to express how hard. The pain I feel is crazy but I keep striving to be positive and to also find a new identity in this process. Nothing is the same. I started a blog only a week ago called grievingd.com dedicated to him in hopes of finding other women(or anyone) who has lost their partner because I feel very alone in my battle I wanted to express my feelings truthfully and freely amongst individuals in hopes to connect and help heal. I lost Damian to murder so connecting with people who understand that part as well were my hopes. Id like to hear other stories and also have the wisdom of others as well. Hopefully this site can give me this , but I would love for other women to connect and share their stories as well and hear me vent lol...
  8. I am upset because my mother died on August 25, 2014 (last year) right before my birthday. (My birthday is August 24) I haven't been talking about it with anyone except this one friend who is a girl. However, I have had a lot of symptoms due to this loss. For example, my grades have gone down, I do not talk to any of my friends/teachers/family with the exception of a few. I also do not participate in class and I am mentally shutting down because I shut everyone else out. However, my parents are probably the most concerned. However, they also lied to me about my mother. Okay, well here is the whole story. I was 6 or 7 years old and she just vanished. I was so young at the time I did not care very much however I was a little upset at first. Then I turned 10 and I begged myself to see her again and this time, I was a bit more curious, so I asked my dad questions. I asked him "where was she?" and "When will she be home again?" My dad told me she was at a hospital. Then, a last month in October, they told me the truth. She was never in a hospital...she was in jail. She was a drug addict and she needed money to recover so she robbed a bank. When I found out this information. I got mad and depressed. All I do is yell at my dad's girlfriend who I yell at because I think she is trying to replace my mother even though she claims she is not. However, I am still in disbelief. It is really hard to get over this and I am forced to go to therapy but they make me. No matter how much I do not want to. I don't know what to do and I am always so down and upset. That is why I am here. Hopefully, one day I can get over my mother...I am upset and mad at her. But since she is not here, I feel like I redirect my anger at my dads girlfriend which seems silly but she is also the closest and easiest target. Now all I do is disappoint everyone with my grades and silence. One day...Please help me if there is any quick and efficient way to get over this stage of grief. Thanks everyone!
  9. I lost my elderly mother 6 months ago. I had been her primary caretaker for 3 years. I did experience some anticipatory grief and did fairly well for 2 months after her death. Has that changed! I have a history of clinical depression throughout my life and am feeling worse by the day. It seems all I can do is sob. My mom was my best friend and helped hold me together through the death of my 6 month old daughter as well as the stillbirth of another daughter, the day before her due date. I am trying everything to get myself back into life including therapy and switching to a new medication for depression. Nothing is helping. I have no interest in life. I am not suicidal, but wouldn't mind if I did die. I thought that this being a "expected" lost, I would be feeling much better at 6 months after mom's death. Am I stuck? Has anyone else felt this badly 6 months after the loss a sick, elderly parent?
  10. Growing up my dad wasn't around because he was doing drugs and was a drug dealer. He ended up going to prison for a few years. I've always had an intense longing for a relationship with my dad and we connected through myspace back when I was about 12. I ended up meeting him and we talked over the phone or on the internet ever since. I love him. My dad died in march very suddenly. He was in a car accident, I guess he lost control of his car and it flipped over into a ditch. I didn't find out until a week later. He hadn't been responding to my facebook messages and so I googled his name for some reason. I found the online news article detailing his car accident. I have so many conflicting emotions but I am mostly just depressed. I long to hug him and make sure he knows that I love him. I long for him so much I've spent like 150 dollars calling psychic mediums. I don't even know what I believe and if I am religious or not, I'm just desperate. At the same time I'm somehow still angry I guess because of his absence. The loneliness is killing me. When he was alive I was able to call him about my problems or just to catch up. I just want to call him. I keep thinking about the pain he was probably in. After he was discovered they took him to the hospital and he died later that night. I just imagine him laying in a ditch and I feel terrible. I wish there was something I could have done. He was all alone in pain. I feel so empty....also angry because no one on my dads side of the family messaged me or tried to get in contact with me about what happened, I had to read all the details from an article. And I won't be invited to my own dads funeral because no one in his family knows me ( but they know of me) :'(
  11. I lost my 11 year old pug Shrek on Saturday morning 8/1/15. Shrek is diabetic and blind due to cataracts. In February he developed pneumonia and has been battling a chronic cough. He seemed fine on Thursday. I took him for a car ride which he loves and he ate fine etc. Friday I came home from work and noticed he seemed to be breathing harder due to his coughing. I gave him one of his pills prior to bed but he woke up at 12:30 panting again. I took him out to the couch and we fell asleep while i was petting his head. I woke up out of nowhere at 5 am and I think he had just passed away. He was warm and limp. I am completely devastated. I cant stop crying. Every little think reminds me of him. I dont want to be awake, eat, sleep, I just dont know what to do with myself. I feel empty inside. Shrek has been with me through my worst times of my life and the best. He was truly my best friend. I have never lost a close family member so this is my first real loss and I feel so lost. I believe I will see him again in Heaven. I recently bought a book called Cold Noses at the pearly Gates by Gary Kurz. I just began reading it in hopes for some form of comfort. I hate leaving the house knowing when I come home he wont be here. One thing that does give me comfort is my other pug Fiona. She has been with us for about five years. She is a rescue and about 11. She doesn't seem to be depressed but im still worried for her. I am thankful to found this site. I hope to find some comfort and welcome any advice. Kind regards Rachal Outlook.com.zip
  12. I said goodbye to my cat of 13 years, Urdwill, at the pet hospital this morning. He had multiple cancer tumors and I did not want him to have to go through invasive surgery. Yesterday when I visited him for an hour, he mewed, we cuddled, he rubbed his cheek against mine, and he fell asleep with his head on my hand. Today he acted as though I was a stranger, and simply stared fixedly ahead of him, as though he saw something we could not. The very kind and sensitive vet gave him an injection of medicine that made him sleep, then the killing dose; his passing was immediate, peaceful, and pain-free, as I had prayed it would be. I've been up since around 3am and I am so exhausted I can barely function, even though it is only 4pm here in Santa Fe, NM now. We had a wonderful 13 years together, Urdwill and I, and he was the last of my animals to pass away (I had 2 dogs before him and 2 dogs after I got him, all of whom are now dead). I must focus on what we had, not his last moments. But the child in me feels that somehow Urdwill got sick and died because I did not do something for him that I should have. And I feel as though I've been disemboweled. My heart goes out to all of you who are mourning a pet. Non-petlovers don't understand what it is like, how strong and deep the bond can be between human and pet. My body misses Urdwill--misses touching him, stroking his fur, feeling his weight on my lap and in my arms, hearing his loud purr and feeling the vibration of it. Often he would climb into bed with me, and his furry butt would push up against my side, keeping me warm. (And next morning he would have somehow managed to completely take over the middle of the bed, pushing me to the very margins!) I refuse to be ashamed of my grief. I love you, Urdwill. Goodbye, sweet boy.
  13. I have been lurking for a while until I had the courage to share my story. I am still not ready to see a therapist which I really need to. This is the first step in getting better. I have felt if I don't talk about it it can't be true which I know isnt the case. Anyways on with my story. In a span of less than 3 months I had 3 people in my family die. My cousin and my uncle both dies after long battles with cancer we all were prepared for their deaths. But on Friday June 13th 2014 my world was forever changed. My dad died. It was not expected his health was relatively good however, he had a hernia that he was waiting for his appointment to have it looked at. My dad had turned 82 on June 8th just 5 days before he died. I never got a chance to tell him happy birthday. I called but my mom told me he was busy (typical of her) she knew that I had wanted to talk to him about some other things and it was her way of preventing me from doing so. She told me that she would tell him I called. I tried to call a few other times but either no answer or my mom answered and I got the same excuses. My mom and I didn't have the best of relationships. When my cousin died 3 weeks before my dad died, my dad really wanted to be up here for his Sister. She was going through a lot as her husband was terminally ill and only had a short time with us. My mom convinced my dad not to come up since they had been up in April. So my dad didnt come up. The day my dad died I had gotten a call from my sister. At first I thought she was calling to tell me my uncle had passed. When she said that Dad was gone I didn't believe her. I completely lost it. It was as if someone kicked me in the stomach and ripped my heart out as well. My sister, brother and I all got on the first available flights and were with my mom within 8hrs. We pulled together as a family at least for a few days. I wanted to see my dad before the cremation and my sister tried to talk me out of it. I insisted and I went. Afterwards, I completely lost it sobbing for hours i reached out for support and a hug but was flat out ignored and then told to knock it off that I am not the only one who was grieving. I went home the next day. Last month my siblings and I were at my parents house that they still have in town and we were going through things of my dads that hadnt been moved to their other house. There were several items that I asked if I could have but was told that names were drawn for those items and my brother got them. Other things went to my sister and to other family members. Nothing was set aside for me. Not even a picture. I was really hurt.I completely lost it and had a nervous breakdown to which my brother told me in a nasty text message that I needed to put on my big girl panties and stop throwing a temper tantrum. And that I was crying wolf when I had told him that I didn't see the point of living. I wasnt in a good place. I was devastated, this wasnt about not getting anything of my dad, I was grieving for my dad. And I was being told that I obviously dont care that others were grieving too. I have asked my siblings for pictures of my dad or even digital copies but they are unwilling. I have a feeling that my mom doesn't want any pictures to go to me either. I have given up. I cant handle it anymore. I am so depressed and I miss my dad so much. I was a daddy's girl. Born many years after my siblings. So I kinda grew up an only child and had a strong bond with my dad. My girls also had a strong bond with their Grandpa. He would tell me that he loved all of his grandkids but my girls were extra special to him especially my youngest daughter. I am sorry for writing such a long post. I pray that things will get easier because I still cant get through a day without crying.
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