Paul S

Many of us who have grieved for around a year run into what I call "The Season of Anniversaries", those dates along the calendar that mark a date from the year before that's connected with the death. Most people usually regard it as a remembrance of pain and direct their attention to the past. This may be especially so if the death was not sudden. The health of the beloved declined, then she/he entered the hospital and at some point died. I had gotten the idea that one could instead use them as a benchmark. Like: "One year ago today, he/she had to go to the hospital. I was in a such and such mental place at the time, and now one year later this is where I'm at." Compare and contrast where you were with where you are now. People may be shocked at how far they've come. "THAT was just ONE YEAR ago????" For example: I started to think about this last September 2006. I was raking leaves for a friend when it hit me that exactly one year ago the plumber had to come and fix the bathroom sink in my Mom's old house. As I am generally useless in such matters my brother-in-law tried to fix it but discovered it was beyond his ability. I paused and thought to myself, "Just one year ago, my biggest worry outside of my Mom's health was the bathroom plumbing. If I only knew what lay on the horizon..." And then I started thinking. Coming up in October was the 1st anniv of when Mom had to be taken to the ER (Oct 19th), placed in ICU (the 20th), transferred to her private room (the 27th), and then her death. (Nov 7th). It wouldn't end there. Her funeral on the 9th. The arrival of the dumpster in the front yard on the 14th to toss in it 59 years of parental memories (and some of mine that got mixed in, by "accident".). And then a few personal ones in December regarding my need to move out of her house and into a small apartment, and in January with our birthdays. Just several months in a row of a good number of shocks and jolts from the year before. Now, it had occurred to me that these could be dangerous landmines that could rip me apart. Or I could use them in a different way. The way I mentioned up above, to use them as a benchmark to compare and contrast where I was one year ago and where I'm at today. For each of the anniversaries it seems that the event was a lifetime ago. The memory of my Mom was still fresh, but the painful event seemed far more distant. If somebody is a little proactive in moving forward then these dates can even be used as a fulcrum to swing themselves through grief a little more. A hump to jump over. It may help them to "move on but not leave behind" (as a lot of people fear they will do with their dead if they "get past it"). "One year ago this happened. I'm not going to focus on that, instead I'm going to focus on the year since. How far I've come and grown. How much stronger I am as person because I've learned some lessons and applied them." Some helpful pointers if you want to move forward in grief. That is if your question "Does this ever end?" is a sincere one and you actually do want to to get through it. 1) Seek help. Then pay attention to that help. This means that you listen to those people who have gone before you in grieving their losses and have seemed to re-established a "new normal" in their lives, whether they be grief counselors or ordinary non-professionals. Avoid those who seem stuck in their grief. I do not mean those who are moving slowly. At least they're progressing. I mean those who seem to be today in the same place that they were in a year ago, or two years... People who are angry or just refuse to listen. Whose primary focus seems to be on themselves and not on others. Some people need to be cut loose as they need greater help than grief counseling and discussion forums can provide. 2) Distinguish between the pain of the loss and the identity of the deceased. The pain of the loss is not the person. The whole point behind griefwork is to leave the pain of the loss behind while retaining the memories and joys of the beloved. This allows you to establish a "new normal". A new ordinary life that lacks the physical presence of the beloved. A piece of your life's puzzle is gone and now you have rearranged the pieces to form a different, but recognizable picture, similar to the old. But the old pieces are not burned up, they're just in a safer place. To heal from the pain does not mean that the person is forgotten. To not recognize this may result in the pain beginning to overshadow the person, and that which you fear the most, forgetting the person, may actually happen. But only in a reverse way. You've kept the pain, but the memories of the person are obscured. The pain of the loss is substituted for the person. 3) Lean into the pain. Face the tough stuff associated with your grief, as best as you can. Whether it's visiting the cemetery, driving past the old house, looking at old photographs, or listening to their music, those things that are tinged with pain need to be faced and dealt with. Move into it as well as you can. Take a break when needed, just remember to return to the task. 4) Forgive. Even if you were on great terms with them no one is perfect and everyone ticks off everyone else. If they were mean and abusive, forgive them anyway. They are dead now and are no longer present to defend or explain themselves. If your faith tradition has a Heaven and a Hell, then if they're in Hell they're being punished for whatever they did, and if they're in Heaven they've been forgiven and purged of their wrongdoings and whatever underlying personality defects that caused them. If you're into reincarnation, then they'll get their comeuppance in the next life. Maybe your offspring or grandkid will be their high school teacher in trigonometry or something. If oblivion, what's the point? Regardless of the afterlife, holding on to pain and wrongdoing years after they've died is self-defeating and will prevent you from developing the life you're supposed to live. They're dead, it's in the past, move on. To allow them to torment you years after they've died is very generous of you, but counter-productive. There's probably more, but those are the 4 biggies that come to mind.

Volunteering is great! In whatever capacity you can manage, it certainly does help you expand your "comfort zone" and get "outside yourself". I volunteer every Sunday. Whatever you can do, wherever you can, a little or a lot!

Hi shubom! When my Mom died, all I wanted was for a friendly face. Someone, anyone who knew what I was going through and could point out the way. An ally or a friend. Maybe you can be something like that, in keeping with whatever the rules are at work and whatever your professional relationship is now. Just do what Marty says and leave a note, and maybe offer to talk. Whatever the situation may suggest. Needless to say you have to consider how you would handle it and how it would impact on you emotionally.

"One day at a time". Now where have I heard that? Yep. 2006 sucked, but much less so than 2005. 2007 will be better.

I second what Jeff said. My Dad died in 1995 and my last conversation with him was an argument. Not that that is likely with you and your Dad, but still talk to him about anything. Create some more memories, even if over the phone (or email). P.S. When I had the argument with my Dad, we did not know he would die soon. He wasn't well, but we all thought he would pull through.

As delicious and as satisfying as it might be to give her a taste of her own medicine, I agree, be the bigger person and offer your condolences. Maybe even offer her your insights into the grieving process, maybe she'll have a greater respect for you?

MERRY CHRISTMAS MARTY!

I agree with Shell. This time of year you may have to spend extra time taking care of yourself. Your emotional tank may not be full enough to deal with everybody else and also the meaning of the holydays. Do what you can to get through. People need to know that this year, Christmas isn't going to be the same.

One thing that is common to everyone's grief experience is that we all learn that there are 2 types of people in the world: those who "Get it" and those who "Don't Get It." The former are those who have experienced loss through death and have done griefwork of some sort, the latter never have. The latter think that there is a timetable, that you should be over it by "now". The former know that such a thing is silly. Those who have experienced death, even if it is a death different from yours, have a clue as to what you're going through. They are sensitive to what can and cannot be said. As to what to say or do with these people who don't get it? Just cope. They will not understand until they have that experience. They may have a glimmer of an intellectual sort if you explain it to them, but it's not the same. Develop a thicker skin. People are going to just not be aware of how stupid or callous they sound. If possible, discard them from your life. While that may be impossible or just wrong if it's a spouse or boss, with other's you can. I've basically jettisoned my family after Mom died. I was closer to her that any of them. They didn't get what I was going through, life moved on for them and I just don't have time for them anymore. If you have to continue to deal with them, a spouse may need explaining. Set him/her down and just say what you need and how much space. "This is the deal with what's going on and this is what I need from you." A nice time to remind them of the "For better or worse, in good times and bad..." part. A boss requires more sacrifice on your part. Just try and cover/suppress your emotions on the job so the boss thinks you're past it. I know that is hard, but to keep your job or defuse office situations you may have to keep your mind off of things outside the workplace. Again, it's really hard. Hang in there.

Don't get me wrong, I wish my family didn't fall apart, they just did. I'm praying for an eventual reconciliation, but that may never happen.

One of the huge benefits of this community is that everyone here "gets it". You can always come here when others who have never experienced the loss of someone hurts you in some way.

Ditto!

I don't see family, and prefer it that way.

Hi Jeff, It is fruitless to beat yourself up over things like being impatient with your Dad because he was 82. I was that way sometimes a little with my Mom (she was 89) but in retrospect I think I was more frustrated with her for having gotten old, as if that's a bad thing or she could have done something about it. That doesn't make it any better, but at least you know that you're not unique. I had more than made up for it, but still, every so often I get a pang of guilt over something I said or did. Part of the territory.

The first time I had to go to the hospital after Mom died was strange. It was a little surreal (to borrow a word from your other topic, Jeff). I had to go because my landlord was there with an injury. Anyway, he was on the same floor as Mom was when she died. I remembered the nurses and they remembered me. It was really strange, I tried to find the room where she died, but couldn't. I couldn't make sense of the room numbers. I was able to after calming down a little, but it was occupied. A little sad, at that. I wanted to sit in there for a little while.

I've been attending a lot of "Coping with the Holidays" support group meetings at the nearby Hospice. The attendees, regardless of who died, all basically are in a similar predicament. The general consensus might be that you are under no obligation to host a Christmas this year. They would probably say something like "I'm just not doing Christmas this year", or something to that effect. It was special to you and your Mom, and you just can't bring yourself to do it. If you still wish to out of reverence to your Mom, there is no reason why your Dad has to be there. He never was before, correct? So why involve him now, especially with his wife there, who was responsible for the marriage to break-up? You are the host, you pick the invitees. The others in the family can host him. His wife can host something at their place. This will all give you time to figure out next year.

Hi lorikelly, I hear you. I hope to live longer than 30 minutes from my old house. Thankfully the cemetery is south of town and accessible by backroads. I would be able to sneak in and out of town without having to see much anything familiar. Alas, now I am nine-tenths of a mile from Mom's old house and too many things are familiar.

Leann: I don't know what book you read, therefore I only know what you've posted, but one other interpretation is that the author meant that in the the death of a parent, especially the last one, is a part of a "growth stage" for us. We become "adult orphans". This does not mean I disagree with Shell's or Gillian's posts, but just posing a different 'spin' on the statement. The thing about having "lost the role of a son or daughter" may not mean that you are no longer so and so's kid, but that you are struggling with a new identity among the living as a person on your own now. Basically, an "adult orphan". "Who am I now, what does this mean?" "Omigawd, I'm now responsible, I have no one around who can 'make it better' like my Mom or Dad can". "Role" meaning duties and responsibilities, a function, maybe? And those ae now gone with the passing of a parent. Just my 2 cents. You will always be your Father's daughter, nothing can take that away.

One way of coping with the holidays is to not celebrate, if you always took the secular approach to them. In that way you would be distancing yourself or disconnecting from the things that serve as triggers for sadness and depression. If you are Christian, then maybe celebrating them in a way that honors and is true to the religious and spiritual meaning and intention. That may also serve to distance yourself and disconnect from triggers. Tough, yes, BOY DO I KNOW THAT, but possible. P.S. Hiya shubom! Missed you! Glad you've posted again! Shell and I were just talking about you a little while ago and wondered how you were doing! :-)

A lot of people do not know what action to take, or do not know if their behavior (action) is 'crazy' or 'normal'. That is how I always interpreted this forum, "Am I normal?", or, "This is what I did, how was that?" They come here for validation and explanation. And sadly, a lot of people do not want to take action. The pain may be easier to settle in than the work required to get out of it. People mistakenly associate the pain of the loss with the person lost. They feel that in getting past the pain they leave the person behind and betray the memory. The two are separate, and one can leave the pain and sadness behind and bring the person along with them. You learn to acknowledge that death is temporary, and the person is with you in a different way. You said (I think it as you) in another topic "This too shall pass." That's good, because after it passes, the worthwhile memories and feelings remain with you. What I do to deal with my sadness is to read and post on this board, to read lots of books, to get in-person grief counseling, to attend support groups and go for walks. Ice cream works pretty well, too. I volunteer weekly at a Franciscan residence for the terminally ill. Exercise? That's good, too. I should do that. I can then eat more ice cream.

Jeff: It seems to me that you're already learned some important stuff in your griefwork, and it IS griefwork that you're doing. And one of its benefits is that it fundamentally affects how we view things and other people. We learn exactly just what is important and what isn't. And then we have little trouble sorting through and ejecting things from our lives that are troublesome or not worth it. It looks like you're doing that with your Mom, and it's great that she is still with you and you're concerned about her. The fact that you're setting aside differences with her shows that you've taken this to heart. You're asking the question: "Is this really that important? Is it worth the cost to my relationship with my Mom to hold onto this negative?" And your answer is "no", and you've set it aside. Your Mom is worth more than whatever the issue(s) are. Your Mom isn't going to be around forever, (and the death of anyone close drives that home) and the differences will pass when she departs. You're clearing your relationship with her now and you'll get closer. Believe me, some people never do that and they hold onto grudges and issues YEARS after the parent dies. This retards their grieving process. Their griefwork slows to a halt and they dwell on the pain. They make excuses and rationalizations for doing that. And this is so because it's easier to be unhappy than to be happy. Happiness takes work. Grief takes work. You cannot get around grief or avoid it, you have to go through it. That is painful but possible. But happiness will eventually be found on the other side. Getting to the other side of grief is that point where you've "moved on", but not left the deceased behind. "Moving on" isn't the same thing as forgetting. You'd have gotten past the intense pain and anguish and guilt and such, and just miss the person. But you're largely OK with the person being gone. That may seem hard for now, but it is not as cold as it may seem. We all have to "move on" eventually, and good griefwork helps us to discard the pain of the loss without leaving the person behind. The loss isn't the person. The loss is the person's absence, which is eventually filled by the new relationship with the person. To continually link the person with the loss is to do a disservice to the person. When you die, would you want some loved one associating you always with the pain? For a little while (however that's defined) OK, but not forever. That is what I meant when I said "griefwork is needed to incorporate your Dad's death into your life, you will look around and see that a normality has returned, a normality in a new configuration..." That is the "new normal" that Shell inferred. This may take a few months (HA!) to a couple years or so. But progress is seen during this time, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Grief serves as a winepress for love. Like crushed grapes becomes fine wine after a time in oak barrels, love is transformed by grief (the winepress) and successful griefwork (oak barrels) into something else. A mature and deep appreciation for the truly good and wonderful people and things that are here today, but maybe not tomorrow. And a connection to something greater than ourselves. The shallow and mundane seems so trivial. Don't worry about the things you're beating yourself up over. Like shell said, we've all done that. There are always regrets and guilt and things like that. That's part of the griefwork. You'll get through it, it's part of the process. Marie: Hi! You understand.

Yep, what Shell said. Especially about the tension and anxiety. She mentioned something about feeling "normal" after a while. I think she put it in quotes to refer to the fact that it is considered to be a "new" normal. Nothing will be like as it was before. Things have changed, and once you have done whatever griefwork is needed to incorporate your Dad's death into you life, you will look around and see that a normality has returned, a normality in a new configuration. That "universe shift" you mentioned in your first post will have settled out and the new dimension will be familiar.

Hi Jeff, Well you're in the right place if you've suffered a major loss. I came here about one year ago when my Mom died and these boards and some people I met here helped me get through her death and understand things better. I've been away for a few months but something drew me back tonight and I saw your post. The title kinda jumped out. First off all, you're not crazy. Although I haven't experienced exactly the same thing, it sounds as if you and your Dad were very close, and when he died the fundamental structure of your world was altered and nothing just seemed right anymore. The external world is as it was before, but now you see it all with different eyes. Before, you had your Dad, and whatever comfort and support that brought. By support, I mean at least just having him around. And maybe other things, too. But probably you had some closeness and that was a major undergirding of, and importance in, your life. Now that's gone and you're on your own with the Universe. In all the griefwork I've done this past year, one thing I've learned is that the death of a parent is a major change in one's life, and one is largely unprepared for it. I don't know if your Mom is alive, but if she's gone too (or alive but for a variety of reasons that are none of our business unless you want to make it, gone from your life) then your Dad's death has also brought you face-to-face with your own mortality. There is nothing now between you and whatever lies beyond Death. And perhaps that is what you're feeling or sensing. On some level your mind is trying to reprocess reality and that is affecting your perceptions. In a manner of speaking, I did experience what you felt, but other things got in the way for me to feel it to your degree. But when my Mom died I felt my world was ripped apart and absolutely nothing seemed real. Everything was different and now my world was lacking her. You never think that your parents are going to die and when they do, it is as if some cruel cosmic joke was played upon you and you wonder why you're the punchline. You sort of grasped it in your comment when you said, "...the world when my dad was alive to a new dimension without him." Yeah, it's like a new dimension. You have to learn new rules, for lack of a better term, and learn to relate to a universe in which he's not in it. This reprocessing could take a while. One of the reasons I was away from these boards, I just needed to step back for a bit, but not forever. . Anyway, stick around and continue posting. Lotsa nice people here and MartyT's the coolest. Ah'll be back.

So, charlie1, how are you???

Oh, shelley it is NOT you, you are NOT going crazy. Like you, I had to vacate the premises. I lived in my childhood home for 32 years (22 till college grad, then the last 10 years of Mom's life.) It is so tough. I do not drive down that street. I can see the old house when I drive down Main Street as it sits about 1 block in from the corner. I avert my eyes. I cannot look at the place. Too painful. The very idea of other people walking in my hallways, my rooms, my backyard... I thought I successfully dealt with it a few months ago when I prayed for the new owners. It was a psychological/spiritual release for me and it worked for a time. But then I saw that the new owners knew diddlium squattum about yard care. And then I saw my Mom's peonies and Rose of Sharon and lilacs in bloom, along with lillies I had gotten her for Mother's Day and Easter also in bloom, DID THE NEW OWNERS APPRECIATE ALL THAT??? Who knows? I think part of my problem is that I still live here. I may move out of the area. I have just started a job search, focusing on my area of New York State, and if something turns up by Springtime I may relocate outside my hometown. (I may look for an additional part time job before getting something full-time, as I need to ease back into the professional workplace.) I may relocate outside of New York, too. I don't know. There are options, there always are. But moving outof the area may help me cope with the memories of my house. No when I think of the house and yard the pain of not being able to go there is made worse by my proximity to it. If I am far away, I think I can deal with all the memories. But I know what you're feeling. The one year anniversary of my Mom's death is in a month-and-a-half. I am going to try to look at is as a triumph. I've gotten tis far, I've made it. Then maybe I can better cope with the living situation.