Xiaoru

My dad passed in May, and I too could only sleep with all the lights on and the TV on for many months. I just didn't want to deal with the darkness and silence. It will take time, be kind to yourself. It's been 5 months, and sometimes it feels like I'm doing better, but other days still hit me and bring me right back down. It will take time, but I know that it will be alright.

Hello, Everything you are experiencing is normal. I am 22 years old, my dad died 3 months ago. I also couldn't cry for the first few weeks. I walked around all day in a daze and shock. That eventually subsided and turned into constant crying and sobbing. Give yourself time. You will get through this. Also, the first few days all I could think about were my dad's last few days. My mind was always filled with "Scary" images and sadness when I thought of him. However, I promise you that will also fade and you will begin to remember the good, the happy memories. Be kind to yourself, don't push yourself. One day at a time. We can do this.

Thank you for your post. I connected with what you wrote. I just lost my dad 3 months ago, and I am 22 years old. It's very difficult to lose a parent this young, and I too often think of all the future events in my life where I know he would have loved to be at. It hurts so much and I miss him. Stay strong, Biru

Thank you, Kavish and Peanut for your kind words. The support this community offers is amazing. I forgot to add up there that tomorrow, July 14, is my dad's birthday, he would have been 84 today. It's difficult to not be able to spend it with him.

Hello, I stumbled upon this site last night, and I just read through pages and pages of people's heartfelt posts. I sat and cried for hours reading people's stories and it was a very cleansing cry, if you know what I mean. I'm 22 years old, my dad was 83 when he died in May. I am an only child, and my mom and dad adopted me when I was a baby. I came home from college in February to help care for him after a very intrusive heart surgery, but he never recovered from it. He was a true fighter, he had a kidney transplant 19 years ago and his kidney was very strong until the end. However, I think now it was a mistake for him to undergo the heart surgery. He was able to walk and move around relatively independently before, but he never was able to sit up again after the surgery. He was in and out of the hospital for the last 3 months, and he wasn't happy. He went back into the hospital on May 17th or so, not for any immediately dangerous issues, but for long-term treatment for lung fluid build-up, and lack of appetite which led to malnourishment. At the hospital, he developed a lung infection directly due to negligence on the hospital's part, and died about 6 days after the infection spread, causing full body septic shock. He died on Thursday, May 28, 2009 at 2:14AM. I was there by his bedside the entire time he had Pneumonia, but I'm not sure if he heard anything I said to him. Other people tell me, and I tell myself, that of course he heard me, that all the "I love yous" and the "We'll be okays" that I said went through and comforted him in some say. But I'm not sure. I know he heard a few of the things I said to him the first few days. He could still open his eyes and squeeze my hand. He stared at me with those questioning eyes and seemed to plead to me for help. But I couldn't help him. I didn't know what to do. He had a ventilator in and I didn't hear his voice ever again since early Friday morning when I left the hospital around 6AM. The infection started early on Saturday morning, and when I got there, he was still conscious. He could hear what I was saying to him, and I just kept telling him that I know he's uncomfortable, I know the ventilator tube must feel bad, but that he just needed to suffer through it for a little bit and he would get well soon. Each day, he got worse. I couldn't bear to watch him chew on the ventilator until his bottom lip was raw. I can't even imagine what it feels like to have that in my mouth. My dad suffered so much. The chest tubes hurt him so much, and he kept grabbing at his right side. He never seemed to suffer too unbearably much, but it was a horrible digression torward death. Each day he got worse. First he was uncomfortable but with hope, but by the next day he was more drowsy, his lips started to bleed and his cheek was chafing. Soon, his hands and feet started turning black. I remember on Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday, his left hand was still able to move. He could move it up and down, trying to reach up past his chest. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, but I don't know nor will I ever know if he suffered or how much he suffered. I am usually okay during the day, but I get really upset at night time. I just have a lot of regrets. I regret spending so much time on work, school, and other stuff the last few weeks instead of with him. I just wish I could talk to my dad again, I wish somehow I can wake up tomorrow and everything is back to normal again. I've been reading a lot of Near Death Experiences, hoping that my dad felt a sense of calm and contentment when he died. I hope he saw me and my mom and Patric by his bedside, and I hope he knew how we feel and how much we love him. I miss him so much. I really dread nights. His room that he stayed in at home while he was sick is right across the hall from mine, and I walk by the emptiness all the time. I can't stand laying in bed with the lights off. Even a night light isn't bright enough, so I have to try to sleep with the room lights fully on. Something about being in the dark is upsetting and scary. Wheneven I think about him, my mind only goes back to the memories and flashbacks of his last few days, his death, and the way he looked in his coffin. WHY can't I think of any happy memories? I desperately want to remember the good things, the fun times, but I'm just completely consumed by the sadness and the scary memories. After he died, the hospital staff came in to "clean him up", so we stepped out of the room for about an hour. They let us in after an hour to say our goodbyes. My dad was lying there, but he was already dead. He was started to get cold, his mouth was open. His lips and chin were black from lack of blood flow and his mouth was raw from the ventilator tubes. I have nightmares of how he looked in the hospital bed then, I just can't seem to get over it. When does it stop? When can I start thinking of the happy memories without being reminded of these horrible images? Thank you so much for listening, and I'm really sorry for the wall of text here. I have a lot of sadness and anger, and a lot more I want to get out, but I think this is enough for now. Just reading all of your posts and knowing that I'm not the only one going through this is incredible help. My boyfriend and my friends are all great. They are here for me and they support me, but I sometimes feel bitter and angry because they don't truly know what it's like. I want to be strong for my mom, but I can't even bear to talk to her because her sorrow hurts me even more. Here's a link to a memorial video I made for my dad. Thank you for listening, Biru