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Hello everyone, To those seeing this who are grieving, who are lost, who need comfort - I send love and light. Most people, like myself, find this place during hard times and that’s ok, because it means we are not alone. My mother passed away over a month ago and her death has devastated me like nothing before. I’m shattered, lost and not myself. My heart and soul are broken and the person I was when she was alive is not who I see and feel now. Everything is different and the pain, the numbness, the lack of connection, hope, clarity, peace and all is the by far, the worst experience of my life. In particular, it’s affecting my relationship, with a person I thought was absolutely “The One.” We haven’t been together long, but had a long friendship pre-relationship and the quality of our connection if unspeakably deep and true. When Mom was alive, she and I were unstoppable. We were inseparable. It was so right. Now, I don’t feel any love, any connection, any thing. I want to be alone and I don’t want to have to care of anyone. The pressure of having to take care of her and be a decent human being is hurting me further. I hate myself for letting her down and for not being able to give her what she deserves. I’m not being mean, or harmful, just sad, just distant and not present. God knows, she deserves better than what I can give now and better than who I am now. And in truth, I am not the same and will never be the same. Before I ask what I came here to ask, a bit about my Mom and I and why this loss hurts so much so. Mom raised me. I never met my father. She never brought me around me, ever. I have no siblings. We were quite poor and she suffered from massive anxiety issues. As a child, I knew I had to stop up and take care of her. I did that. I became an adult way too soon. When I was 12, Mom started having heart and lung problems. In a nutshell, I spent my twenties and thirties taking care of her. You’re talking a million days in the hospital, so much work at her place, you can’t imagine. I was a caregiver and that turned me into a perpetual giver. I take care of people and have never had anyone to take care of me. Mom gave all she could, but she couldn’t take care of me like she wished. Needless to say, I have trouble with letting people in. But I am infinitely kind and loving. I try damn hard to be a good soul. I feel so far away from my partner now. I love her. But I want to be alone and feel that I’d heal better and find peace better if I were alone, without the responsibility of loving and living with my partner. What are your experiences with this? What do you all think I should do? Any signs I should look out for? Thank you all. Wishing you love, peace, presence, good energy and all your hopes and dreams. Love from NYC HeartbrokenJ

My adopted mother passed away on Sunday the 8th of April 2019. Her cancer had come back for the third time and very quickly spread to her spine and the doctors gave her weeks to live. I heard the news and immediately made plans to come up as soon as I could but she died the next day peacefully in her sleep at 2am. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. She may not have been my biological mother but I don’t care she meant the most to me more than anyone else in the world I know. She was the strongest most resilient woman I knew yet the kindest and sweetest at the same time. Her cancer first arrived and she had several terrible operations and treatments to get rid of it and they worked but at a high price, the second time it came around was in a smaller form this last October of 2018. She didn’t want to even tell me because she knew I’d be devastated, and I remember clear as day I had received amazing news and was delighted with myself as she sat and congratulated me while hiding a horrible secret. I eventually found out however and our bond grew and she had it removed fairly simply. But just this last week it returned in her lungs and spread to her spine killing her as she finally lost the fight after three rounds in the ring so to speak. She helped me through the hardest most confusing hormonal and painful time of my own life and pregnancy using her experience to guide me and reassure me everything I was feeling was normal, we joked and cried together, did everything together, she also helped me to realise I had feelings for the person I am currently engaged to and due to marry. She did everything a mother would have done for me in my life in half the time. And all that whilst having illness and demons of her own that far outshadowed mine, and I wasn’t even her biological child even if by almost every meaning of the word I was hers. I can’t stress enough the amount of things she has done for people helping them and now donated her body to cancer research as well. Not only being an amazingly talented singer and pianist serenading me when I was down always picking me up with her bubbly personality. She’d always doubt herself and say she want good enough and I’d scream and shout to the heavens how amazing she was until she conceded with a giggle and accepted she might just be okay. But now, that’s gone...the most beautiful soul I’ve had the honour of being able to call my mother has been taken from me and the family. And I don’t know how I can move on when I’m still so in love with her and everything about her, just so many things she didn’t get to do and I can’t see her do and be happy...I don’t feel anything now I just sit here shaking and shaking and getting angrier then sadder and crying and fine and loop and it’s endless I can’t just be calm even now the cycle in my head and body round and round it never stops it’s like I can’t function without her I don’t know what to do. The last thing she said to me before she died was “Don’t be sad, I will die the happiest woman on earth who finally found true love” and that helps to a degree, but still not enough to fill this black hole of feelings inside me from my own past that she kept for me in check and controlled which is just raging and raging and I can’t stop it...I can’t do anything now other than think about her and how i just want her to hold me again and say “I love you heaps ya know” like she always would Miss you forever mum...hopefully I’ll see you again one day, god do I hope so.

It’s Tuesday June 13th 2017. To anyone else it may be just another day. As for me, it’s another day and another week that goes by with the absence of my Derry. It’s one month, three weeks and one day that my heart took the hardest hit and it’s five days away from the first Father’s Day I will be celebrating in front of his tombstone. My name is Brenda and I am the middle child of three. Growing up I was daddy’s little girl and at 29 I still felt the same way. He was my world, the number one dad and I love him dearly. Derry is the endearment for my father. It’s my version of Spanglish for daddy. I always knew I was lucky, growing up in a pink bubble with both my parents, little sister and older brother. We did not grow up in a big home, expensive clothes or newest toys. However that modest home was full of love and we always had food on the table. My earliest memories are simply wonderful. My parents were the type to constantly remind us and show us their love. That bubble was soon broken. At age 17, my father was sentence to prison. The day he went to court he kissed me on the forehead and reassured me with confidence that everything would be okay. To my dismay he never returned home. He was sentence to serve time. This was the man who I knew was the kindest of hearts, the man who was always willing to help and was a hardworking family man. Until this day, I do not agree to his conviction. They took the best part of our lives. My family took the hardest blow. We cried for him as if he had passed. Every holiday turned into a painful event because we knew someone was missing. Our milestones became moments of grief. Every visit was full of joy to see him but it ended in heartbreak as I walked away knowing I could not take him back home. My heart found a little comfort as he began to find his faith. In 2017 after serving ten years in prison he was released but deported to Mexico. His release was a mixture of emotions knowing he was free but he would now be 700 miles away. Our fears didn’t go away, they simply transformed. I felt at ease knowing he was in his hometown and that he was content taking care of his parents. We visited him when we could, at times in a group and other time one person at a time. My favorite time, was when I went alone. I spent the days following him around, like when I was a little girl. Watching him as he completed his daily duties of running a farm and taking care of his aging parents. As I watched him, I imagined one day I would be in his shoes. One day I would take care of my old man. Fate had other plans. On April 22nd I received the call that would change my life once more. My father was missing. An hour later there was news of a body found in the old road that leads to the town. A short time after, it was confirmed that the body found was my Derry. He was murdered in cold blood and his truck burned. I thought I had already felt the worst of pains but this took the throne. I fell to the ground and simply screamed in anger, God why him. I cursed God as my mother tried to keep the words from coming out of my mouth. I was mad at God for not protecting him. My dad was at a point in his life where he was running on faith and believed in him. He wasn’t done with his work, to convert us to his faith. He couldn’t allow him to be gone because he wasn’t done. This broke my heart to pieces. My brother and I went on a mission, to bring him home. We flew to Mexico, arranged his farewell from the land where he was born and we brought him home. Home, where he spent forty years of his fifty nine years of life. Where he built his home and raised his family. Where his family waited to say goodbye for the last time. Watching how many people, here and in Mexico, showed up to say goodbye simply reestablished the good man he was. Two years, that’s all we had to enjoy his life out after surviving through ten years hoping for the day he would be released. Here we are again continuing life without him. This time we won't be getting a call or letter from him. This time we cannot visit him. This time we cannot hear his voice or hug him. I have made peace with this sudden lost. I am standing strong. I do not know how at times but I am still going. Maybe I am still in the shock face of grieving as some say. Maybe life has made me this tough and I am accustom to pain. Yet I think it is bigger than that, it’s God’s grace. After cursing him upon the news, I came to a realization. When I asked what else can be taken from me, Jobs story came to mind. You see, I am by no means the most religious person but I have studied his word. I cannot unlearned what I have learned. This time my Derry is in a better place. This time God’s grace is keeping me from plunging into depression. This time I know that's what he would have wanted. This time I will not fall.

Today marks 3 months since the funeral of my Mom, which my Father and I held on my birthday by my choice. She took her own life July 19th, while I was states away for work. This is shortly after I graduated from College and was just beginning to find work. I am 22. I feel as though I've lost her too soon. Just before I was getting to a time of my life where my relationship with her would only get closer. After the high school/college immaturity phase and the don't embarrass me phase. I'm holding an immense amount of guilt knowing that she had been struggling with depression for so long. She was extremely close to me more so than my Father and she was the parent I had my deepest conversations with about life and my heart. I've always been an emotional person and easily hurt. In many ways I see a lot of her in me. Shortly after her passing my girlfriend of 2 years had begun becoming very distant. We had a serious relationship in which both of us had talked about the future of us and had gotten promise rings to hold until she graduated. She wanted to finish school before an engagement and I respected that. I noticed her starting to become distant and I was beginning to cling onto her for hope and assurance for the future. She began saying that she was stressed with school and unsure of her own life and paths. She assured me that she didn't want us to split up but she needed to figure things out. We were long distance at this time since I had graduated and she still had a couple years in school and so after my Father and I created my Moms urn to spread her ashes I began to talk to her about me moving closer to her because I couldn't bare to be at home anymore emotionally. She was unsure of the idea of me moving without having a job locked down, but I assured her I'd be okay and I would find one and that I just wanted to be close to her. Within this time she continued to become distant contacting me less and less and becoming frustrated when I was clingy out more and more to talk to her. My emotions were so controlling I would ask her assurance for our own future more and more needing her to tell me that her and I would be together and that she loved me. She quickly began to start saying she didn't want to talk or that she was busy until one night she just said she needed a break from the conversation and that she couldn't constantly give me assurance. She also told me that maybe we can talk more about it Sunday when we were already planning to come up there for me to visit and find a place. That was the Monday before. After that night I messaged her the next day normally as I would seeing how she was doing and I never heard a response. During this week I was able to lock down an apartment and I called her to tell her the news. My calls went unanswered. I thought maybe she just needed space and I thought if it was really really bad surely she would say something to me before I drove up there. I reached out to a couple mutual friends and they agreed with my thought. Sunday in the beginning of September I drove there to move into the apartment and see her. It was a ten hour drive and when I got there I tried to call her to tell her I was outside of the dorm. She didn't answer her phone so I sent a text and she walked down. She broke the news to me first thing. She already had her friends up in her dorm so we couldn't hang out or anything as I asked her to lunch right when I arrived. She said she thought we should breakup and that she couldn't see herself being able to chase her goals and dreams within this relationship. I tried to apologize for how clingy and needy I had become and assured her that me moving up there is not to lock her down anymore it was simply to heal and to be close to her. I love her and I really saw a future of us together we were close and did almost everything together for 2 years. She asked me to stop trying to change her mind and so I hugged her and left in a hurry. That night I told the apartment complex the story and they allowed me to stay a night because I thought maybe she'd think about it some more. I never heard from her. The next day I talked to one of the mutual friends that had been in the room and they said she told them that her reasons were that the relationship was toxic that I was egotistical, manipulative, and controlling. This took a tremendous hit on me for I had no idea she felt this way and I began to self analyze and figure out what I did wrong. I was hurt and all I wanted to do was talk this out with her. I gave her space for a week and I sent a friendly text asking how she's doing. It went unanswered. Then I waited 2 weeks and sent another. No answer. During this time I had been writing an apology letter explaining that I had heard what she said and that I was sorry and I never meant her to feel that way. I expressed to her how much I care for her, love her, and want to be a part of her life if even just a friend. I also told her I was seeking counseling to help with grieving and to also seek some help on the things she said that maybe I did wrong. I decided I didn't want to send it to her address since it would get to her parents house first before college. So I called. She didn't answer and so I left a couple voicemails stating what I had to say in the letter. A day went by and I transcribed the letter into a Facebook message and sent it. She blocked me shortly after it sent. This completely destroyed any bit of strength I felt I had left. I felt alone in a new place and I don't know if I'm strong enough to get through it. I'm struggling to deal with the grief of now two things at the same time. One my mom and two someone I loved that I truly saw a future with. Thoughts of feeling that this girl is the last girl who would of had a relationship with my mom who would of known her personally is now also gone. Not only that but potentially never to be heard from again. This scares me. It's been 2 months since the breakup and 3 weeks since I got blocked. I feel left in the dark and I feel she doesn't even care what even happens to me. I'm mad at my heart for still caring for her so much after this and I can't stop my brain from stirring possibilities or thoughts from the past. It's like no matter where I look or put my mind to I reminded of either my Mom or her and I feel it's just so much I'm not quite sure how to handle it. I just want my brain to stop cranking and my heart to stop feeling so much. I have had long relationships in the past none of which I felt the desire to get promise rings with. I'm not someone who takes that lightly and when I promised myself I did it whole heartedly. I'm cracking on the inside with the fact of the very same person who promised back and loved me for so long is the same person that didn't come down for my moms funeral even though friends from states away came. I'm not sure if I would of talked to her that day if I hadn't messaged her first. I forgave this because I knew she lost someone to suicide in high school before I knew her, but I knew it hurt her and so I forgave her because I didn't want her to have this emotional termoil come back. Now though my counselor wants me to see those things and think about that. It just hurts. Because my brain sees it yet my heart is still full of love and hope. Even when there doesn't seem to be any. I'm not sure how to get through this one. My mom and I always were the ones to talk about the things like this and it's so hard me having to face that I can't just go see my mom or call her. Then to have this added to that just has me so lost in everything. Is there any guidance anyone can provide? Sincerely, Jason

Going through my dad's stuff and reflecting on the ten years he spent out here in AZ with me after my mother died have changed my view of how he was actually functioning towards the end of his life. My sisters had spent more time with him than I had and were probably aware that he had already declined significantly-cognitively- by the time he moved out here. As I look back I think he was covering up a lot all the time he was here. People would tell me that I was in denial as to his actual ability to process things, but hey-both neurologists that he saw said that he did not have dementia. He could take me out to dinner and calculate a tip that was always very generous, scoring points with everyone, so what was the problem? He deferred to me about a lot of things, which was flattering that he valued my opinion. But I think he didn't really know what was in his house or how to do a lot of things. Maybe he overtipped deliberately-maybe not. Toward the beginning he would tell me about things he read or saw on TV and they were always scrambled. Then he didn't volunteer anything he saw or read, and I would quiz him, and he couldn't really say, but if I mentioned something he often found it familiar. I think honestly I looked the other way-without even realizing it. When he made decisions on his own they were not good ones. I think he really needed me from the start and I didn't even realize it-I just did whatever it took. From the get go, ten years ago, he was concerned that I would "put him in a nursing home". I thought this was bizarre, but I think now that if someone had carefully assessed him, any professional would have weighed in against him living at home alone. He had tons of hospital and ER visits all along and the staff always looked very relieved when I was there to cart him off. I think looking back that even ten years ago any of these hospital staff would have not been comfortable with him going home to be living alone. But since I appeared to be competent and very concerned, they said okey dokey and wheeled him out to my car. I always made a point of telling them that I was a social worker and lived a minute and a half from his front door. I honestly believed most of the ten years he was here that he was doing ok, but looking at it now, I think that he was only doing ok because I was here-the helicopter daughter, who just happened to be a social worker who had done home health with the elderly, and who also is very resourceful and full of energy and drive. Lena is a therapy cat and we visit residents in independent living, assisted care, and skilled nursing facilities. At this point I really cannot honestly say that even at the beginning he was in better shape than any of the people I have ever seen at any of those places. It seems likely that I was the glue all along, the only thing that kept him living at home, which was what he very much wanted. He never said so exactly, but I think he knew all along that I was the glue and so did my sisters, and every other person who worked with him or got to know him at all. I always used to say that sometimes he was the parent, sometimes, I was the parent, but mostly it was even-steven... But I don't think that was really true and I wonder how I could have really missed that all those years. All those people, all those years, telling me he belonged in assisted living and my thinking they were all crazy. Maybe I was crazy...and so was he-or just hopeful. Nevertheless, we made it work and for a long time...and now he is gone. I would rather he was here and alive in any condition than where he is.

Hello All, I recently lost a father. It was a pretty quick downhill battle. He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and end stage renal disease. In the last month, I traveled out of state back and forth to help visit and care for him, and was there in the last week or so of his death. This has been very traumatic for me as he was my only surviving parent (mom died 20 years ago) and he remarried a woman shortly after that we really don't consider family due to her own severe mental issues that kept us distant. Now, I am going back to a relatively new job and am having a hard time making it through. My husband is starting to get tired of me talking about anything related to my father dying and his death. I have yet to contact a counselor but will do so this week as my work provides help for this. Right now, it is hard for me to keep forgetting his last words to me as I helped administer morphine, "What is this?" How do I move on when I don't really feel like it but life forces me to do so?

My father passed away one month ago. In addition to being filled with sadness and grief, I have been struggling with tremendous guilt. This is because my father's death was preventable. About one month before his passing my father stopped eating and complained of chest pain. My sister called a doctor but my father sent him away. As the days passed my father's condition got worse. I begged him to see a doctor and threatened to call an ambulance. My father refused to seek any medical attention and insisted that he would get better on his own. My mother, sister and I stopped arguing with him, hoping that if the situation got severe enough that he would give us permission to intervene. Then, three and a half weeks after he stopped eating, he stopped drinking. At that point we called an ambulance. He was taken to the hospital where he was diagnosed with an aortic aneurysm. He was immediately operated on. The surgery was successful, however he suffered a massive stroke one day later and passed away. I have been told by many that it was my father's decision to refuse medical attention and responsible for his own fate. Despite this I feel somewhat responsible for his passing by not being aggressive enough and forcing him to seek help. I know that acceptance and healing come with time but I am concerned that the guilt I feel will prevent this from occurring. I am wondering if there are others out there struggling with, or who have struggled with, guilt around the passing of a loved one and I wish to know what steps others have taken to overcome their guilt.

I turned 24 a few weeks ago. Usually I make a big deal about my birthday and plan something with my friends, but this year was different. It was my first birthday, first valentines day, first new years, first christmas and thanksgiving without my stepfather. He died of cancer in june, I took care of him. He was more than a father to me- he was a superhero. When I was 12 my mother was diagnosed with cancer- he married her 5 days later and promised to take care of her, my brother, and myself no matter what happened. She died when I was 17, a few months before I graduated high school. I continued to drink and take pills to deal with my pain. I created a lot of art work as well. I also now realize I began submitting myself to unhealthy relationships, in search of love that the other could never give me. Two years later the homicide department knocked on my door. These officers sat me down to tell me my real father had killed himself. My heart shattered. He had been unemployed and battled with his own depression and money problems. I'm not sure I ever really dealt with this loss. until now at least. Over the summer, when I became a caretaker for my sick stepfather, I prayed to my dead loved ones, for strength to get through another day. It was so taxing. so stressful and unusual for me. After he died, my whole turned upside down. Not only was I taking on -all at once- a whole swarm of responsibility i never had- to pay bills and watch over myself... A few months of living in my childhood home- my aunt, the homeowner- essentially kicked me out. Told me they were going to sell my house this spring and my drunk uncle was coming over everyday to tear apart the floors and paint. I had to move. and I did. I've lost my health insurance recently. another obstacle for me. The executor of my stepfather's will has shown her true colors- and made it clear that she is neither a good person or a part of my family any longer. I'm not sure where to get the help I need, within the low budget i have. I need support-from real people.