Chai

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.

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?

Lately when I am feeling sad at nights, thinking about my dad, I find myself leaping out of bed to grab a pen and paper. And I end up writing poems...they really, really help me to feel better. "Pattern" by Chai Thrashing crashing branches on the glass The ancient thrum of a tired motor White sycamore lines sentinel To The washed up river snake A cantankerous bridge The scribbling inanity of a pen Scratching in darkness with one bony hand Trepidation on the steering wheel No hot fire burn whiplash down under No screech fast melody of us on automatic We slip slide swerve into black night fog Over wilderness and under star symmetry Warm laugh pen chewing company My father and I on a trip together To nowhere and Everywhere. ~end _____________ This sprouted out of a conversation I had with my counselor on Monday about driving around with my dad. Some of my most favorites times with him, were all the times we were driving and talking, on the way to somewhere together. It was a lot of fun, and very personal just me and him time. And he would write while he drove sometimes...

Thank you. I'm glad that my poem can speak to others.

Oh, this poem makes me cry. It's so sweet and tender. So loving. So special. I really love to read it, and think of this, though. Might just have to print this one out.

Very sweet, tender poem! Very well written, too!

Did you write this?? I love the concept! Very uplifting and interesting! I think like Bdzak, I'm going to print this out and post it somewhere. Great story, great moral. Love how it makes me think...I wonder which one I am?...

This is a poem I wrote, trying to focus on a particular moment or time with my dad. So far what I had written in poems was more..abstract, feelings. I decided I wanted to try a different approach. --------------------- "The Last Time" by Chai The last time she saw him The door was open wide The last she saw him His smile opened her up inside. She sat down by the bed Wanted to say, dad I love you so But she put on a brave face And tried to prepare to let him go. His blue eyes were glowing His laughter filled the air She wanted to cry, don't leave me Let her tears fall in his hair Instead she was joyful by his side They talked into the night She wanted him to be strong And fill his heart with light The last time she saw him She didn't say goodbye But she can tell his spirit now 'I'll meet you in the sky.'

Oh, wow. These songs everyone is sharing are so beautiful and amazing! So very touching. ;_; I love them. Ah, they are so special. Wow. Karen MH, I love how happy you are when you talk about music. It makes me happy. Thank you for the excellent tips! I love the image of your Sid and my dad sitting up there smiling down on us... rugbyboy7, those are special moments when we can feel like our dads are with us. I love all these songs you are all sharing. Thank you thank you.

Dear Carole, These feelings of regret are definitely normal. The thing I have learned though, is that, everyone feels them. Even the people who were there for every second, who were there when their loved one passed away, who held their hand...even those people feel some regret, some guilt. I think it's just normal. It is definitely hard to deal with, though. After my dad passed away, I felt terribly guilty for not having taken more time off of school - or just ditched the semester altogether - to be by his bedside. My father passed away in the hospital with friends, with his only child, his daughter, miles and miles away from him. I wish I could have spoken to him one last time and told him thank you. He knew I loved him, and he knew I appreciated him, but I still feel I could have expressed it more, especially during his illness. But what happened and how it happened, happened. And I think our loved ones would rather we try to accept how it went, rather than feeling terrible over it. Of course, it is tough, when the sad regretful thoughts come into our minds... My heart is with you. take care, Chai

Dear Dawn, My heart and prayers are with you. Your mother has a beautiful, joyful radiance to her in that picture you shared with us. Just lovely. Also, I think it is so sweet and special that you got go out and buy that quilt material with her. Now your child can have a quilt made with patterns picked out by his/her beloved grandmother. Cancer is a terrifying thing...I can't believe how quickly it can damage the body. My poor dad lost the use of his hands for the most part, too, and it was so scary to see this guy who I used to watch write in a notebook all the time, unable to even turn a page... I'm not someone who has children yet, but I agree with the sentiment of wishing for the impossible, that my father could have met any future children I may have. So the sadness that is in your post in that regard, it stirs me. take care, Chai

Marty and Leeann, (((((((HUGS)))))), thank you so much! I love what you said! It makes me smile. When you put, well, the way you both put it, I can see why it was good to tell my supervisor I was okay, and to take the pain of grief in small doses. My mother visited me this weekend and we had some good communication, I got to talk to my her a lot about my feelings and she helped me with some more guilt stuff (my brain keeps coming up with this junk!). So now I am more determined to share with certain people when I want to talk. I just have to go out there and do it! It's so nice to have found people to share with, too, and I'm loving this site more and more as I find people to message and read everyone's loving messages done for Valentine's. I really appreciate the reminder, Marty, to spend some time with my grief every day. I think I may have forgotten that one a little bit. But that is so important.

Dear Karen, I'm sorry for taking long to reply. I've been out of the loop, didn't realize this was here. I pretty much am surrounded only by people in my age group. I live with them, all around me. On the weekends, they're it. The only adults are teacher, faculty, staff, people who work at the library with me. I have my mother to talk to, but...I don't know. She's so worried about my being happy, I think she tries too much to put a spiritual perspective on things, and then I feel like I should say "Yeah, okay," and act fine, to make her happy. So, not sure if she is the right person who is older to talk to. I've been thinking of sending an email out to my professors telling them. I just haven't mustered the guts to do it yet. But I really need to. I have a couple classes with friends who could help me keep track of things in classes. The times that I'm really worried about, are the 17ths, because I've been counting off the anniversaries of my dad's passing away on November 17th, and I tend to get very affected on the 17th. Who knows what will happen this time. So, going to classses on that day, the 17th...is even tougher. I am hoping to have a couple friends to talk to, if I reall yneed to talk, on the week days. Otherwise, I don't know...because, I really love being able to just talk to my counselor, and get advice. I don't required advice from my friends, but just having a listening ear... I am in a poetry class, and I have found myself writing poems relating to what I am going through. It really helps. I don't mean to seem like I waved what you had to say away. I do wish I had more to talk to, and a physical grief support group would help me get a lot of emotions onto the table, I think. I hope I can find the support I need. Thank you so much for your kind and caring response. blessings and take care, Chai

Whew! I finally had some luck in this arena! Sunday was terrible, and I ran out of kleenex when I really needed it. So I forced myself to get up and knock on a friend's door (not one of the 3 who I spoke to before) to ask for Kleenex. Immediately she invited me in and sat down, and really listened as I just...talked. About how disappointed I was i nthe other 3 friends' reactions, about wanting hugs, about not feeling like I could share, etc. It was really great. She listened, and she said she was sorry to hear that I felt like I couldn't share, and to just go ahead and share (to summarize). It was really wonderful to find another person here at school (I've got one other friend) who is willing to listen to me in my grief talk. It feels good. On another note... I was realizing today something...that I don't express, even to myself, the reality of all this. I realized it because, at work I was telling my supervisor, "Yeah, I'm doing okay, sleeping better [true for the past couple nights, so tired I just conked], my mom's visiting this weekend [also true]." And I sounded fine. But later, when I was alone, I realized...that was sortof, not true. I mean, I can't very well call myself 'okay,' just cause I had a couple decent nights of sleep. And here I was doing a lonely part of work [i work in a library, so I was checking book stuff amidst the shelves], and I was thinking of...a picture at the memorial. Right before the cremation, my religion has this ceremony of mantras thing, and puts a flower garland on the body. So, at the memorial there was a picture of my dad...deceased. His face, with the flowers around it. I did look at it, because my mom said it didn't look bad. But for a while after, I totally shunned that picture, and didn't like seeing it. I forced my eyes to the pictures of my dad alive. So here I was at work earlier today, and this picture of him popped into my head...the people who said, 'He looks like he's sleeping," um...no. No. I don't think so. It made me sad to think of that picture, because although he does look peaceful, well...it's just, not right, to me, to see him like that. For some reason, I feel so much worse when I am alone, and sometimes okay when around other people, but only because there is this pressure to be. If I could just get OUT of my head the ideas I have about making other people comfortable, I think my grief process would be more...something. My counselor was noting, how I tend to cater to others' needs. I think a lot about "what other people will think." argh! Need to stop! So after work I was thinking how, what I had said to my supervisor, while externally correct, first of all, I didn't even really answer the question, 'How are you feeling?" I didn't include any feelings in my answer. And secondly, I'm obviously not doing well, really, when alone, the feelings are so much there, so to put on the "ok" face is a lie. I don't want to lie. I fear though, that I am lying even to myself. I think even when I write in my journal, or think, sometimes I am not admitting all the pain, letting it all flow into me. Maybe I'm just too scared? I don't know. I feel very confused about myself. If I can't know my own thoughts and feelings, how do I...I don't know, how do I do anything? How do I grieve if I can't at least be honest with myself (what to speak of with other people)?? Any tips??

In Need of An Angel, the poems you post are absolutely amazing! I really love them! This one has a very interesting concept, about us being God's flowers, and we are all a part of His garden. Thank you for sharing!

Thank you both for your helpful responses and links. Marty, I think a physical support group would help me a lot. It would help me feel a lot less lonely, and I could get hugs...my counselor has talked about support groups, but not on-campus, I would prefer on-campus because I don't drive. I think really trying to start a AMF on-campus would be the key thing to make a support group happen. Also, leeann, thank you, those links are great, I sent one of them to my friends, so I think that will help make the situation a bit less awkward perhaps... Still kinda mad at their reaction. Not sure if I can texpect a lot of support this semester from my friends at school. It hurts. I did say, when I spoke to them, some thing about how, I imagine it's difficult to know what to say, and I don't want to put them in an awkward position. But when their response was just to sit there, I felt very let-down. I hope sending them that link will help... With Marty's suggestion though, either way (whether my school friends are supportive or whatever), hopefully I can find people on-campus who can relate. (Of course, I wish my school friends could be more sensitive, but...ah well). Lastly I wanted to address Kath. Kath, thank you for your comforting words. It is tough to think of these friends not being, well...I don't know, not being able to handle me, when I really need friends, and when they are the only ones I have at school that I see a lot, etc. But I think you have a point - some people are the ones to talk to about it, and some aren't, and I will meet some new people that can talk to me about it (or listen), hopefully. Your post is very encouraging. All of yours. thank you.

Leann, Mary Linda...thank you. I still haven't taken the opportunity yet, but, I did speak to my counselor and decided to get my group of friends together to talk about, well, about how I don't feel normal, need extra support this semester, and would enjoy the opportunity to share memories or whatever about my dad. I know that I shouldn't expect too much...and in their situation, I wouldn't know what to do or say. Honestly, their reaction was sortof what I had feared would happen: they all just sortof sat there, looking at me. Thanks, guys. Can't anyone give me a hug? These are 3 friends of mine who don't like hugs. Two of them were brought up with not so great relations with their parents. Me, I was borught up in a very affectionate environment. But right then, talking to them, I really needed a hug. And no one gave me one. I feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed in these 3 friends of mine now. Part of me wants to be understanding, but...I need a lot of nurture right now, and the fact that they couldn't give me a hug when I'm sitting there sad, well...what does that say, for how these 3 friends will support and listen to me this semester? Will they? I have 2 other friends I haven't talked to yet, but...I just...I'm disappointed in this initial reaction I got to sharing my "I need your support" thing with them... I do still prefer, though, to try and communicate, instead of keeping it all to myself. So, I'll keep trying, and hopefully they can learn to feel okay with listening and not have to feel awkward, like they have to say anything in particular. These are my 5 good friends at school. my other friends, ones I've known since childhood, were brought up in the same affectionate environment as me, and some of them knew my dad. I don't mean to sound very selfish, and I don't want to insult or condescend people who were not borught up in the same environment. That wouldn't be fair. But...I just, I feel sad, and I don't expect them to understand, and I know it's weird for them to suddenly have someone in the group who needs extra nurture, but...couldn't I have gotten one little hug??

Oh, this poem... It embodies everything that I want to do with my grief. I want to teach what my father taught me. I want to feel him around me each day, I want his help in deciding things. This poem really, really touches my heart. It makes me cry, but it makes me want to come back to read it, again and again. Thank you for posting. take care, Chai

I really enjoyed this poem. What a beautiful tribute and thought and love for your mother by putting this on her monument! I love this idea, of our loved ones being brought in by angels...to a dawn, a beginning...

InNeedOfAnAngel, Thank you for posting this sweet, sweet poem. I feel I really need it right now. Thank you. Chai

Thank you very much, kath.

Dear Em, Do keep that list. That list is a piece of your dad that you can hang onto. Keep it, and don't feel bad about having to look at it sometimes. I look at a letter my dad wrote early last year, making plans for his healing center (which never happened). It hurts to see his dreams, and know he didn't complete them, didn't do the healing center. I still know, at least though, that he healed many people. That was very evident at the memorial! I can relate to this pain you are feeling. I am wondering, too, how I am going to go certain places. How can I hike at certain spots that my dad and I cherished? How can I have a picnic without him there? A one-man picnic. Great. It sounds ridiculous. How can I walk through the redwood forests without him? And plans, oh...me and my dad were going to go to England one day, to Glastonbury, to look for Avalon. And we wanted to visit Scotland together, too, because that's where his family ancestry comes from. I imagined my dad sitting down and reading my stories...but, stupidly, I decided to "not share until they're done or less rough-drafty," and what do I get? Now, my dad never got to read a particular story of mine I would have loved for him to read...he would have loved it, too...and laughed at all the right parts, and cried, and smiled... I feel similarly to you and kath - angry with myself. I should have taken the semester off as soon as my dad fell ill. Or at least, I should have gone to visit him every weekend! Forget school, school's not important when your dad is bedridden and can't even walk! For some reason, I thought I'd wait till he was out of the hospital and settled at home...and then I didn't visit more, because of school. Now I so wish, in retrospect, that I had just faced my fear, faced the very worst possibility - my dad passing away - and decided to DO something about it, and take time for it. Instead though I got scared and thought, "He'll have time, he'll have time..." All that, the dreams, shattered in one day. I think though, Leann has good points. It's just hard. ((((HUGS,)))) Chai

Dear Karen, I love to hear how you find music healing in your grief process, but for you, you are creating music. That is wonderful! You can choose a song according to how you are feeling, or whatever song you are learning to play can helpyou feel better. "The Fugitive Cowboy" sounds very uplifting, fun and sortof like an adrenaline rush! Also, I must congratulate you on being able to stick to a practice like that for 57 years; it takes time and patience and energy. I used to play piano, but I quit when I was 12, silly me, because I didn't like to practice. I wanted to skip "The Entertainer" and go straight to Beethoven! I do ocassionally piddle around on the piano downstairs in the lobby room, though, and there is something very peaceful about it. It forces me to focus on one thing, and really get into the music. When I'm done with school I hope to go back to piano and really re-learn the basics so that I can move, in order, and eventually be able to play some of the famous composers' songs. Thank you for sharing! I just was listening to Enya yet again, and this song at first made me sad, because my dad will never be "home" again. But then I thought, well, what if home is in the spiritual realm? Then, my dad is home. And as for the "wish" made in moonlight, I would like to think our loved ones are wishing for our happiness, and blessing us. Or, alternately, the "wish" made is the idea that our loved ones, though away from us, are happy where they are and have attained their dreams. So, I see these lyrics from the point of view of our loved ones, not us: "On My Way Home" by Enya I have been given one moment from heaven as I am walking surrounded by night, Stars high above me make a wish under moonlight. On my way home I remember only good days. On my way home I remember all the best days. I'm on my way home I can remember every new day. I move in silence with each step taken, snow falling round me like angels in flight, Far in the distance is my wish under moonlight. Chai

emptyinside, I'm sorry you're feeling so terrible. I think Leann has a very good suggestion. Talk to your dad, and talk to him about his death. Just the other day, I sat down, and said to my dad what I would have said to him, had I known to call him on his very last day, had I been there when he passed. I sat myself down on my computer chair in front of my dad's framed picture on the wall, and I told him how much I loved him, and thanked him, and etc. It made me cry, but it felt really good to get it out. I would really recommend trying it out and talking to your dad about whatever you want to. Again, I have to agree with Leann. No matter what any book might say, we are not in control. I think that the idea of not having any control, of the control belonging to a Higher Being, can help us. It's not about what we did or did not do. (((Hugs,))) Chai