Chai

So....um...I don't want to say "I've been feeling better." I've been busy. I have been able to look through my ongoing photo album of my dad without a sobfest. I wrote a letter to my dad...and boy was THAT a sobfest! But it felt reaally good. I can't wait to write him another one! I have been busy with school, which leaves less time for "grief" moments during the day. Perhaps I don't spend enough time with it to really think about it. If I put on particular CDs and meditated on it, that would be a good grief session. I haven't given myself time for that. OR...or I am feeling better. I don't know. The thing is, I don't want to feel better. I am scared, and angry, that it is almost six months since my dad passed away. I don't want it to be that. For some strange reason, I want it to be...more recent? I feel like, the more time goes on since he passed away, the further away I am becoming from my dad. I don't want time to go by. I don't want it to be, what, summer already? Someone was remarking on an expired granola bars box, "December wasn't so long ago." But to me, it was. In December, I was still numb, and feeling totally different in my grief process. Everything is moving too fast for me. I want time to stop and sit still, so that I can think. Shame. I feel ashamed, as time goes on, to be able to sleep well, to be able to not have tons of sobfests. And occasionally, a thought has entered my mind, this sort of - I don't know. An understanding of a viewpoint different from my dad on certain things, realizing that maybe, he was a bit wrong on stuff. I feel bad, thinking that he was wrong. The thing is though, whether my dad was wrong or not on some stuff, even if he didn't always do the right thing...I miss him! And I want him back! Even if maybe, he was too obsessed with work, and could have moved along more in life instead of being "stuck" if he had been willing to change some habits...regardless of all this, I would take my dad back in a second. Time keeps moving and I am forced to move with it...do any of you guys feel the same reluctance towards Time passing? Not wanting to move further away from the date of your loved one passing on? (And does any of what I said make any sense at all??)

Dear Em, you may not believe in yourself, but we all believe in you. You don't have to believe all the "he's in a better place" stuff said to make you feel better. If it doesn't make you feel better, it doesn't. That doesn't mean that something is wrong with you. It just means that your way is not the way that is satisfied by those answers. You carve your own path. It does mean, though, that you might have to try a little harder than people who are satisfied by those kind of answers. You are on a big searching journey of the self, and it is up to you to find the answers that are right for you. It is possible! We are all looking for the right answers. WHen others' right answers don't coincide with our thinking, that's fine. We are each individuals. But we are together as a community of grief support. We are supporting you, em. You may be a wailing, puddle-y mess, but we are these invisible little hands holding you up, or at least huddling around you in this dark hole of grief, stuck with ya, buddy. But at least we're all stuck together, right? Oh, trust me, the guilt thing goes the other way, too! (And ironically, trust me - this "betterness" is not my doing, it's my dad's. It's his super serene power of peace working through me, like he's helping me from "the other side." It's thanks to him that I'm "handling" it as well as I am). I may be "doing better," but I don't feel good about it! I feel like I should be more "in the dumps" and I'm afraid that school is the only thing holding me back from it, and that as soon as I'm home alone on a weekday I will turn into a sobbing piece of wreckage. Seriously. Go you for going to counseling! It can help. Even just to spill your guts out like that, helps. You can talk about anything, there. Even stuff you don't talk on here. Even stuff like...oh, morbid stuff. Like, I would say more to my friends, but I don't want to freak them out...so I got to say some of that stuff to my counselor. Just stuff like...how fast it all was. How scary. How my dad couldn't even hold a pen properly, and I look at these pictures of him scribbling away and it makes me so sad...sad for him. Regardless of all that "he's with God," stuff, or "he went on to a happier place" - I am STILL sad for my dad! That I wasn't there, to share his grief, in that moment when he realized he would have to give up so much in the face of disease. Anyway, I'm going on...suffice to say...we are here, and I want to give you a hug now. ((((HUGS)))), Chai

Dear community, I know this thread is about Mother's Day, but...I just wanted to say, I am with you! I am thinking ahead, towards Father's Day, since Mother's Day is coming up, and it's already starting to drive me a little crazy, with a lot of crying. I fear for what will happen when the day comes around. Ah, and all those commercials! Unlike other children who are not children of divorce, I did not do a lot for my dad on Father's Day. I usually didn't see him on that day, but I would call him up and have a long talk. It was always fun. Now, I can't call him up. I considered the thought of giving a card or something to my stepdad, but...it feels strange, and it made me cry. He has been especially awesome lately though, talking to me, reading me nice little things, listening to me...so, perhaps I should do something to show my appreciation. I do have him, as a father figure, but he is different than my dad, obviously. I love people suggestions on here, especially Shauna Marie's, and I enjoyed reading about the flower carnations for Mother's Day. I wonder if there is a similar tradition for Father's Day? And to leeann...I hope you receive some pansies this year. take care, Chai

Dear Rebecca, I am so sorry for the loss of your dad, and that you are struggling so much to find a way out of this loneliness. I have just been asking similar questions to myself - who am I now? How do I built a new identity? Do I have to? - and so I have been researching some answers to these sorts of questions, these "rebuilding" questions. Here is a link that I found that you might find helpful. It is, at least, thought-provoking for a later time: Building a New Identity after the Death of a Loved One (Regardless of ads, it is actually a good article). I hope that helps, at least some. I wish you the best in your search for answers. take care, Chai

To em, I think Leeann has a good point that all of us will have to come to face with: none of us are in control. It seems like we could have control if we tried so hard, but actually, the truth is that we did not have control, and we still don't. Life is out of our control. There are certain things we can control, but the passing of our loved ones? That is beyond us. I am sorry you are hurting so very much, and I can relate to this feeling of "Did I kill him?" My father had a dream to create a healing center, and that dream was never fulfilled. Someone told me that the vertebrae that broke in him, C7, is related to success. So that made me think for a while - "I didn't encourage him enough in his work. He got depressed, and stressed, and thus got ill. If I and others had encouraged him more, he would still be alive." But the truth is, it is out of my control. My father made the decisions he made, and I supported him all that I could. We are, at heart, our father's daughters, and we can only carry so much other responsibility - such as caretaking, such as helping with a business, etc. Ultimately, we are their daughters, and they love us for that and ask no more from us. They love us for who we are, and if we go beyond that, they are grateful, but they do not require and demand that of us, because they love us. Similarly, I think you did all that you could for your father. No matter what the circumstance, these thoughts of "could have" and "should have" will sneak up on us. It is a struggle to push such thoughts away, and realize that we did all we could, but I believe in you. If you try - try just as hard, as you were when collecting your father's medical info., - because you are trying for your dad, and you are trying for you, just as he would want you to, then you can and will get past these guilty thoughts. To Vicky, I am so sorry for the loss of your mother and the very difficult trials you have gone and are going through as you think on this matter. Your mother loved you so much, and you loved your mother so very much. I think she was probably very grateful to have such a peaceful, painless time, and I think that that is something that makes a big difference. She was not in pain when she passed away, and she was surrounded by family. That is wonderful that you were able to do that for her, to be there. I think that you did all that you could, and there is nothing more that should have been done. Besides, all this "should have" and "could have" sort of thing are like toxic thoughts. They only make us miserable and slow our healing process. I think our loved ones would want us to try, however hard it is, to put away such toxic thoughts and to not hurt ourselves with such thoughts. I wish you both the best in your journeys and struggles through this grief. It is so hard! We are all here for you. take care, Chai

Dear Shelley, your succession of hugs posts makes me feel sad, for us, for you, for missing hugs. I am happy that your nephews are helping you to miss hugs less, although I think like you said, you will always miss your parents and your uncle and their hugs. here is a hug from me to you ((((Shelley))))! I miss my dad's hugs, too. We didn't hug a lot, I'm more huggy with my mom, but we did hug. He had very strong wiry arms, and I remember his hands, too. When he did carpentry work at one point in time, his hands would be rough and oily. And I remember him putting his arm around my shoulders. I miss all that. It is so nice and rejuvenating to have all of you here, and to see all these wonderful posts about hugs. take care, Chai

Thank you all very much for your replies. I am still mulling over this in my head, and I can't say the guilt has gone away. Perhaps it is something that will surge up and then bury itself, surge and go, over and over. It is really good to know that I am not alone in this agonizing guilty feeling. We did the best we could, yet somehow we still find ourselves looking back and saying, "I would have done things differently, had I known." But that's just the thing! We didn't know, and so not knowing, we did what we could with the circumstances. You guys are right. My dad would've said "stay in school" had I brought it up. He wanted things as normal as possible even for himself, for a while, I think, and he wanted it like this for me, too. It's really tough when these guilty times come up again. But thank you all for being here. It makes it easier, and makes me feel stronger about it.

Dear Shelley, ((((Hugs)))). I am sorry that the ticket unwillingly purchased today for your rollercoaster ride is such a low one. Holidays are certainly especially difficult, as we remember having celebrated them with our loved ones. I think that Patti's suggestion, to do something good for yourself today, is an excellent idea. Also, I think that maybe doing something special in honor of your parents - lighting a candle, or honoring Easter in ways particular to them, maybe going to a special place - might help. That way, you are acknowledging your grief and your loss, but also are able to take comfort in that you can still honor your parents' memory, and that your happiness is their happiness. I hope that your next rollercoaster ride is a high one. Take care, Chai

Dear petitelady, I am very sorry for your loss. We are here for you. Feel free to talk to us about anything and everything. (((Hugs))), Take care, Chai

Dear (((Shanna,))) I just wanted to thank you for your post. Reading of your experience makes me feel like I have a friend, in that you are also a student trying to do schoolwork in the midst of grief (and it is equally difficult to do work, and other daily functions, while grieving). It is very difficult to keep doing certain things when they remind us of our loved ones. Sometimes even walking to work or class is difficult, because I remember walking out there on the morning I found out that my father passed away. I think that the posters on this thread have an excellent piont, that your mother is with you, and is so proud of you for continuing to try at this difficult exam that is so hard to do in the midst of grief. I hope that you were successful in completing this exam, and if you are still trying, we are here for you also and encouraging you, as well as your dear mother. I think wacked has a good point too - if it is too much right now, then that is ok, too. Be gentle with yourself. Take care, Chai

I thought I was okay in the whole "guilt" department because of having talked to people over the winter (although that was a long time ago) and having certain thoughts in my brain that worked to ward it off. But now all those feelings are coming back. When I was thinking thoughts like "I should have visited him more when I was ill," I got help from his therapist, Diana. She helped me with my guilt over not visiting or calling more. And she helped me to feel okay about not having called him on the day he passed away...I got to talk to him the day before. It was a good talk. Now these feelings are resurging. Not about the calling, but when I first found out that my dad was in the hospital, and later that he had cancer, I feel I should have rushed over there. But I didn't! I was so scared...I talked to my mom...we decided, to wait until he was settled at home, to visit. If I had depended less on my mother, and trusted my own self, I would have been able to see more of my dad before he passed away. So all these regretful feelings are coming back...and after I visited him, I thought, "I want to be by his side every day," but I didn't do it. I fulfilled my duty as a student better than I fulfilled my duty as a daughter, I mean, wouldn't it have been better to take school off and be there? I would miss him even if I had been there every day, but my being there - that is something I had control of, so why didn't I take the reins? At the same time, though, I had to contend with my dad himself. He had hope for recovery. I didn't talk to him about how scared I was, because I wanted to be sure to be encouraging. I think his being in good spirits helped him to be happier in his last two months, helped him last longer and be stronger for a while, against a cancer that there was no hope for anymore (since it wasn't caught earlier - metasticized melanoma). Even so, these feelings of guilt come to me sometimes...asking myself, "Why wasn't I there for him more?" I wonder if I will have to live with this guilt and regret for the rest of my life. (Although he was so forgiving, he would not want me to feel guilty; regret is for my own sake, that I didn't get to see him more...) How to cope with these feelings? I don't know what to do...I haven't been able to sleep very well lately, with these thoughts in my head. I think this all relates to my being too hard on myself - on my past, crazy sad self as I was during my dad's illness, and now this judgment of my past last-semester self is reflecting onto my present this-semester self and driving me crazy...

Kath, thank you for your advice. I am getting a lot of perspectives on it, it is interesing to read and think about, these different reactions. Well, when I say leader, perhaps I shouldn't have phrased it so. Basically, he is a guru from India, and people come from all over the world to hear him speak during this weeklong festival, to get his association, and to get his blessings. My mother's point of contention, she thinks that this guru's philosophy is somehow different from what was preached by another guru who came to India before him (the former, my mother is a disciple of). By my going to the festival and by my enthusiasm, my mom sees I am appreciating this other guru and receiving the philosophy. She thinks I am getting "sidetracked" and would like me to not go to the festival. But my father and I, we believe that these two gurus have the same philosophy, and although obviously there are differences, their goals and missions are the same. The way my dad and I saw it, is, the philosophy is the same, and getting the blessings of this festival leader is invaluable to our spiritual lives. "Follow my heart," I like this advice. I think that is what my dad would say, too. That is why I keep going to this festival every year. I got some extra money recently, so I might try and save up for the festival and be able to manage the expense on my own. I shall update more as the situation changes, and the festival date gets progressively closer.

Towee, I am glad to hear that this website is helping you. Please keep reading and posting, we are all here for each other, and it really helps to know that at least people on this site, we can understand each other. I am of the inclination to agree with you about divine timing. I hope that your letter writing to your friend went well and you wre able to contact her. She sounds like an invaluable person to talk to during this struggle of grief. I am sorry about the loss of your father. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences. (((HUGS)))

Thank you for your input, mlg. I feel it is good to get a bit of her perspective, a mom's perspective, on it. I am trying to put myself in her shoes a little and I know she is just doing it out of concern for me, but I feel there is nothing to be concerned about. I might need help with the money... Because there is not only getting there, but also there is a festival fee. Luckily I can stay with friends, but as for the money part, I might need help...either way I hope to figure out some way to go, and that somewhere in her heart, she can accept that it really makes me feel good. I just wish she could be happy that it makes me happy...we shall see.

Carissa, I am so sorry for the loss of your mother. Cancer is a very scary and sudden thing, and it can definitely pull our heartstrings with instilling hope in us and then dashing it away. That you were able to reconcile things with your mother and tell her you loved her, that is wonderful. My father passed away in November to cancer, and he went so quickly - within 2 months - I spoke to him on the phone one day, and the next, he was gone. I hope the grief books you have feel helpful to you. Insomnia is a part of it, too. I hope that you can get some sleep, and if not, feel free to talk to us on here. That's why I'm on here at 2:30 in the morning. It is very tough to deal with grief. We are all here to support you, and please feel free to use this, like you said, as an outlet. That is what we are here for. (((HUGS))) Take care, Chai

Sean...all I can say to your wonderful, kind reply is thank you. You are so right. I have tried your suggestion, even before reading it, and it really does help. Reading your post only re-affirms in my mind that this is helpful tool for comfort. And it is good to hear I'm not the only one driving myself mad with this comparing habit...I wish the best to us all. (((Hugs,))) Chai

Today was a rough day. Really, really rough. I was already tired, but the grief totally exhausts me. Today, I would stop crying, only to start again. For no particular reason, other than that there was this perpetual sad feeling throughout the day. It was really hard to shake off. I stayed in my room almost all day. I miss my dad a lot. Someone in the "Comparisons" thread suggested imagining what your parent would say to you, and that has been helping me, and I know I should apply it all over. But...I was thinking about this conflict topic, that comes up occasionally, between my mother and I. Basically, there's this religious festival I go to every year, and she doesn't like the festival leader, and I do. It's a huge point of contention. I was talking to her about this year's festival (which is far away), and her mood was so disapproving that it upset me. Because, I feel attending this festival will really help me in my grief, to get spiritual encouragement. But just because she disapproves of the festival leader, her mood whenever the topic comes up is very stern. All I want is some extra support; I thought, talking to her about how much I like it, will convince her to be happier about it, since I need things that will strengthen me right now. But no, I got the same mood from her that I've gotten over the last few years. Usually, I would call up my dad to express my frustrations to him. But now he's not here to call. And I could talk to my stepdad, but he doesn't understand my feelings on the topic the same way my dad did. I miss my dad a lot! There are so many things he did for me, and ways we interacted together, that no one else can do/be the same. A couple things did make me happy over spring break, though. I remembered the kaleidoscope my dad got me as a kid (it's in my room at home)...and bought a new stone for my collection (my dad started me on collecting).

"In Memory Of" by Chai In Memory of Is a difficult thing To wrap one's head around How do you sum up a life? How do you say, He was this, or that, When each of us are many things And at many different times? I could tell you of a man Who never gave up Who gave out wisdom like cookies And then laughed like a child Who was free, and at peace I could say all the ways (though I could never really say all) In which he made my life more complete And all the parts of him I loved most Or what I 'will always remember.' But memory is fickle And words, not always enough So I will suffice to say Just a few things. My father was a good man. He never meant harm. He wanted to heal the world And give his heart to everyone. When he loved, he loved fully, No ifs, ands, or buts And he could always look you in the eye And tell you the Truth. There are always more things to say, To do, to think of, to plan But my father understood how To appreciate life's intricacies The little things are sometimes The most memorable and sweet.

"Hope in a Boy" by Chai A child moved his head in sleep And Father Sleep tugged him out of bed Down a thorny path towards A doorway of light They stepped into a room, the pair Dark and heavy was the air Within the glass room, a dozen eyes And open mouths, and painful cries "See the girl," said old man Sleep And pointed into the circle's deep She stood within, centermost Sad face, cup raised to toast Then the vision changed, and now The boy saw the girl and how Her one dark face was now bright A man beside her, and a room of light "This is her past," Sleep said "The man by her, her father is dead." "What will she do?" asked the boy, Looking at the girl, absorbed in joy "That is up to her," said the Sleep Man "If she wants to remember, then she can. Memories will help, and friends, too One of them, I hope, will be you." When the boy awoke from his bed He didn't think it was all in his head In the afternoon, he saw the girl walking He called out, and they began talking. "I saw you," he said, "your dad, too. In a vision of joy and love were you, Side by side and holding hands He wanted to tell you, 'do what you can, But be gentle with yourself. And love,' he said, 'is your greatest wealth.' He remembers your smile, And when you stayed a while, And he says, 'for your wrongs, I forgive you. But they were nothing. Be true to your heart, my child.'" The happy news made the girl's face bright And the boy was happy, to have given her light He determined to be her friend And that was the start, born from an end.

Courtney, Thank you so much for sharing those beautiful songs! I really feel that Annie Lennox's "Into the West" especially stirs my heart. I think the ideas you bolded are very important, too. - Chai

Dear Courtney, You're so sweet. I feel like you are a very tender, gentle person. Thank you so much for your post. I find the correlations between those dates, just...wow! It really does seem like something special is going on. I haven't been giving myself to grieve a lot lately, and I want to take care to give attention to it, so I'm really glad to see your post. It encourages me to open up more. Feel free to message me, of course. I'm glad to hear your friends are supportive and helping out as much as they can. That's good. I still have AMF on my mind, although doubts keep popping up, but I think in the long run I should do it. You, too! I think...I think it would help us both, the physical support. Thank you for being open, for posting... I really think it's amazing, the more I think about it, how our birth dates, and the days our dads passed away, correlates like that...! ... I've been trying to put less "should"s to myself...it's hard. I keep doing it! My counselor spots it. Just gotta keep trying. - Chai

Dear Laura, I'm so sorry about the loss of your mother. That this site is helping you, that is wonderful, I am happy it can be so. We are in this dreary boat together, and we are here to put our arms around you. I am happy for you that you were able to discover a plan for what to with your mother's belongings. That is so important. I feel especially that keeping some extra personal, special items as you are doing, is a good step. The robot phase can last for a while. I can relate to how you call it "robot phase"! I was in that for a few months, feeling like you - just moving through the motions, not telling others so much the meaning behind certain moments. It's tough to resist the urge to judge yourself and ask, "Why am I being this way?" But it sounds to me like you are understanding that this is just part of the process, the "robot phase." Maybe poetry would be a good floodgate-opener when you are feeling like you want to open that gate. take care, Chai

"Web" by Chai There is a man across the street He will not tell us his name We stand on the dingy crowded walk Overflowing trash bins damp cigarettes Spindly nature death around us Only the blue sky can breathe. We stand on the dingy crowded walk Three hunched figures wilted umbrellas The man binds hearts together Stitches hands to hands and hearts Into giant rhythm pulses of love Into harmony and peace, a House of Love My father lived in a House of Love Coaxed heart to beat and beat with others' Taught by the man who speaks With words that float out And touch every part of the Universe He will not tell us his name My father repeats the magic words Only the blue sky can breathe The stitched together hearts bound by light Sit in a wicker basket faded But still beating and initiating Miracles and an orchestra Down the lane is the House of Hearts There is a man across the street The House of Love contains in itself My father's memory and Love through which he can go on And touch every part of the Universe.

"Except" by Chai Except for the way She walks alone No one can see inside of her A broken heart It's there in the turn of Her head down left Grey sidewalk friend Gravel grind underneath her Dragging feet Why can't they feel the Heavy load in her smile? They don't stay a while. Except for the way Her eyes wander to the wall You can't tell at all How much she's hurting Maybe if you touch her She will open.

What a wonderful poem! So uplifting, at the end there. Thank you for sharing!