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)))

Do you need mom's help in paying for the trip? If not and you have found it helped you in the past then I say go for it. As a mom I would have told my kids what I thought and if they had the means to do it anyway then so be it. But I will add that if it didn't go well, I'd probably be happy inside that I was right, but it sounds like this has helped you before so there shouldn't be any reason it wouldn't this time. I hope whatever decision you make that in the end you are happy with it. Just explain to your mom that you respect her thoughts but it has helped in the past and that you feel you REALLY need it this year and you aren't doing it just to upset her.

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!

I think the best thing to do, when people try to force you to feel better, is be honest. Tell them the truth, that you are not feeling like forcing yourself to be happy is the right move for you right now. I think it would be okay to say, that you need time to live within your grief, and it is far too soon to be expecting you to be happy right now, and you could say, "Thank you for caring so much for my happiness, but I am still moving through my grief process. I'd really appreciate a hug." Then they can give you one, and that way they can be more understanding of the space you are in, and more respectful of it.

I can understand that driving force of wanting to find out all the details. While you are on that quest, please remember to give yourself breathers and be gentle. But it is important. I hope you find the information you want.

As far as the relatives go, I think you are doing good, you are not allowing their mindsets to make you feel weird. This is your way of processing grief and you have a right to do it your way and defend your way.

The one who you want to stop telling you "smile," why not just tell him? You can say to him, "Please don't ask me to feel this way, because I am in a space right now where I need to reside within my grief and give time to myself. I am not ready to be like that yet, but thank you for caring about my welfare." And hopefully he won't keep being pushy.

I'm sorry their that you are so upset. I would be mad, too. They just don't know what it's like.

Today I saw a father walking hand-in-hand with his little daughter, dressed in pink and holding a drawing, taking her home from school. They looked A LOT like me and my dad once upon a time. I started crying and making uncontrollable whimpering noises. I'm jealous of a six-year-old.

I've apparently swapped my brain for a kid's. I'm a little kid in an adult's body who just wants her daddy back.

(Man, it SUCKS to lose someone who's just not a dad but your best friend in the whole world).

Of course you want your dad back. I can understand. Even those whose fathers passed away in old age, still miss their dads. And I think it's okay to cry and miss being a little girl, because being a young person, it wasn't so long ago that you were a little girl.

Those of us who have lost our parents at young ages, who are in our early 20s, it feels very strange to have lost our daddies, because we thought, naturally, we'd have more time with them.

I don't think it's pathetic, I think it's only normal. Now that our dads are gone, we wish we had them here with us, to comfort us, to be our friends and our dads.

I'm sorry you're feeling so low. My thoughts are with you,

Chai

I find myself comparing my parental figures - my mom, my stepdad, other adults I look up and revere - to my dad.

I try not to, because he was different than them, and they can't be him, and I can't expect them to take his place. That's impossible. But more and more, I am feeling his absence. He was such a unique person, my father. I have never met anybody like him.

Sometimes, these comparisons come into my mind, and only end in my being very sad.

For instance, I am working on a novel-length story right now. It's almost done. I write very slowly, so I am very happy to have something near the finishing point in my writing. I told my mother, and she was happy for me. But all I got was a cheerful, "That must feel really good."

I'm happy that she can be happy for me like this, but...in comparison to what my dad would have said, her response becomes disappointing. I can't help thinking what my dad would have said. He would be very excited and overjoyed for me, loudly happy and so jubilant. Or, even if he was in a quieter mood, I can just hear his voice saying to me very tenderly and genuinely, "That is wonderful." With a sweet, boyish smile.

The support my father gave in my writing - in my pursuing my dream - was amazing. I think this is because, he could relate to being a dreamer. We were like kindred spirits, he and I. I feel so bereft, to not have him around anymore. I can't expect my mother to feel the same as my dad did. My dad shared my joys as if they were a part of him, too. He saw me pouring myself into my writing, and was so happy for it. We were able to apply lessons we learned to each other's experiences. It was very much a sharing thing, with my dad.

And when I told my mother, and her reaction was, in comparison to what my dad would have said, so dull and disappointing...I got swept up in this wave of sadness. It was terrible (this was after the phonecall to her). And I know I'm going to do it again, involuntarily, this comparing. Everyone will come up short in some ways, in comparison to my dad. I know I should be grateful and loving towards these parental figures for their own special qualities, but instead I find myself missing so very much, my dad's special qualities, his presence and encouragement.

I miss him so much!

Does anyone have any helpful tips for this comparing ones around us to ones we've lost? Or similar experiences?