Novi

Hi Kenzie, I'm sorry for the loss of your grandpa. I know it was a while since you posted but I hope that you've had at least some time to process the loss. Cancer is a horrible thing that no one should have to experience. And by that I also mean the people who have to watch their loved ones go through the sickness. I never got to know any of my extended family due to something that happened before I was born so I can't really relate to your loss, but I do sometimes grieve what I never had a chance to have. I think that you should talk to your mom about it, it might help you both.

Hi Elizabeth, I hope you see this post, I know you posted your story quite a while ago. I wanted to say that I'm sorry for the loss of your two cats. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it, whether it is a senior cat or a nine week old kitten. Life can just be cruel sometimes. Please don't blame yourself for his death, he wouldn't want you to grieve him that way. Anger is a part of grieving but don't be stuck there for too long, it's unfair to you. I also wanted to say that I was afraid to get another cat too after mine died - for two reasons. What if I was just trying to replace him and ended up regretting getting another? What if I can't handle the loss this time when the time does inevitably come? I can assure you I do not regret it, you can't just replace a loved one, and I know now that I did it to help me grieve and to help another animal who needed to be loved. As for the second thing... it's the cost of love but I know it will be worth it.

I'm sorry for the loss of your Molly. I would be devastated too if one of my precious babies disappeared. Once, I left the patio door open and two of mine snuck out. It was middle of the night so I was trying to be quiet as I chased them around the front lawn of my apartment building - I must have look like a crazy person. I caught my youngest right away, he didn't try very hard to get away. But my oldest (he was 17 at the time) wasn't in the greatest of health and he got very confused because it was dark, I was chasing him and his vision wasn't that great due to cataracts so he was running away thinking I was a threat! I panicked and as I flailed around in the dark I grabbed him but caught his face and I hurt him. When I took him inside there was blood on my fingers. I was absolutely horrified. His canine tooth was bleeding. So off to the emerg clinic I went and there was nothing they could do to save his tooth (lesson to me, keep an eye on dental, especially as they grow older!!!) So I was sent home with pain meds. He was fine after that, and I must've apologized 1000 times. I know he forgave me, animals are pure and I'm sure he knows I hadn't meant to hurt him. He passed away 5 months later of cancer. I'm not a very religious person, even though the Rainbow Bridge theory makes me bawl every time I read it. But that poem gives me hope that I will see my Beck again. Molly was your cat, and not the cat of whomever has decided to take her. She will be waiting for you at the meadows when her time comes, and the two of you will cross that bridge together.

I adopted him from the animal shelter on March 20th, 2003. It was love at first sight. He was my constant companion and the love of my life. He was by my side for so many things, the biggest being my mother's illness and subsequent death. When Beck's health began to deteriorate in November of 2018, we made numerous visits to the vet. I spent a lot of money trying to make him feel better, get better. I was willing to spend what it took because this wasn't about money. It was about helping my little love. The entire time I felt that I was grieving for my mom too. It seemed that I was going through the same motions over again as a caregiver to a sick loved one. It was very draining both physically and mentally. Then January came around. This month has always been very difficult for me since I lost my dad to suicide in 1998. It seemed that Beck's health plateaued, almost as though he knew I needed him still... on February 1st I came home from work and overnight his health had completely deteriorated. I spent the day with him, comforting him as he slept. He would wake up periodically and cry until he heard my voice. "I'm here baby, and I'm not going anywhere." He would then dose off again, and this went on all day. Later I snuck away as he seemed to be sleeping profoundly, and made a quick visit to the vet's for a stronger pain med. Then I came back home and made a phone call to a business called Vets To Go. Even though I didn't want to, and I could barely dial the number through my tears, I booked an at home euthanasia for Beck. Car rides had begun to stress him out to the point of getting physically sick since everytime he got in a car, it was tests and needles.. I wanted him to be stress free and at home in my arms when he took his final breath. I feel that he knew I was ready to let him know because he died not even four hours after I made that call. And he died in my arms, I will be forever grateful for that. Beck graced my life for a little shy of 16 years, leaving me on February 2nd, 2019. He's a little thief that took a piece of my heart with him, but I plan to fill that hole with the many wonderful memories he left me. Thanks for reading, ~Novi

I haven't been here in a very long time. I joined in November of 2011, the day before my mom succumbed to cancer. I suffer from depression (actually was finally diagnosed for Bipolar disorder in 2016) and I'm currently going through a medication change so I've been feeling a little less than mentally sound lately. Much like the last time I just searched the internet for grief support, and I found myself here again. It was really emotional to read my posts from 8 years ago. Grief does things to you. When you lose someone you change and you are never the same person again. My depression/bipolar came from my father's side, he passed away from suicide in January of 1998. Needless to say, December and it's holidays are the rotten meat in between the mouldy bread slices called November and January. In the last eight years things have been very challenging. Other events happened that I know have prevented me from grieving the death of my mother properly. In 2012 I took a chance and moved to a new province, I wanted a fresh start. I even kept my job as they had an office in the city I was moving to. I really thought things would get better, but then in 2013 I met a man and he destroyed my trust and my ability to have any healthy relationships. (I haven't dated since). Shortly before he showed his true colours, I had managed to find a very good grief counselor, which is rare in my opinion - not because of skill, but because you have to "click" with any therapist. It was through a hospice and the therapy was even free of charge. Only catch is that it was only 5 sessions. I spent those 5 sessions talking about the emotionally destroyed situation that "man" had left me in. I still need help with that situation because I still suffer emotionally. I hate to admit it but I'm stuck in frozen grief over what happened. Of all the things I've been through and that is what broke me. I moved back home in late 2014 and was laid off from my job in January of 2016. My friend Beck (who I will talk about in the pet loss section) passed away from cancer in February of this year. He was my constant for 16 years and the pain of losing him was on par with losing my mom. I'm hoping that 2020 and a brand new decade will bring me some good news. I could really use a break. I guess this is my way of saying hello (again) to everyone here. I hope you all have pleasant holidays despite the pain you are all dealing with. ~Novi

Maybe I'm just angry as I post this, maybe I'm just legitimately distraught. But It doesn't really matter either way. Grief is measured shallowly on so many levels. On the order of things. On popularity. And It's disgusting. Pain is measured by weight the of ignorance. By how you express yourself. By how many people like you. By how much attention you are able to gather with your sob story. We all have them, these sob stories. We all feel the pain, whether it be the loss of a child, the loss of a sibling, the loss of a parent or grandparent, even the loss of a friend both human and pet. But they're just sob stories until we are noticed. And not everyone can be noticed with the same equivalence. It's like being the wealthy kid in school with the brand-name clothing. It's a popularity contest. And it's pathetic. Pain has no weight. It has no priority. It just is. So why do some people get to express themselves and get so much encouraging feedback, while some do the same and get next to no feedback at all? Because it's all about the weight of pain. How we are able to express ourselves. Good for all of you extroverts! Your pain is validated and you win this invisible contest of popularity, while those of us that have experienced rejection our entire lives get to experience this thing called grief - the exact same way our lives have been. Alone. The Weight of Pain What is grief if I may, and just what does it weigh? I feel pain everyday - should grow easy, they say. Yet I face it alone, with no one to hold me. It scars to the bone - no one to console me. I am strong this is true, but so far from okay. What is grief may I ask, and how long should it last? I drink from this flask, and reflect on my past... I am weak, I admit and I'm so full of sh!t My life is a skit, it's not real - not one bit I am wrong, I am blue. Just what DOES my pain weigh?

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Beautiful poem. I love how it is written from the mother's point of view. <3

Thank-you for reading my poem and for sharing the lovely poem your friend shared with you. It brought tears to my eyes as I read it. Poetry is so under appreciated, and most don't realize how therapeutic it is to write it when you have a broken heart, or how healing it is to have someone read and appreciate what you've had the courage to share. I'm touched that you thought of me, and I can see why. But my smile of disguise was revealed a lie yesterday, and I was sent home from work and put on leave for the next little while. You can only be strong on your own for so long... I'll be okay, actively seeking help with this time off I've been given. I hope you are well too, ShanN. Know that I still have you and Leo in my thoughts. (Gentle Hugs) ~ Novi

Letter From Earth Dearly departed: I know you still hear You know how I feel, you see every tear I shed them for you and I shed them for me Dearly departed: I know you still see Please be the Angel, the guardian ghost Watch over those that love you the most You'll never be forgotten, this I ensure Though angry inside, forgiveness is pure I wish you were here but for all that it's worth All I can do is send this letter from earth... Originally written for a loved one that had succumbed to suicide, but dedicated to everyone who has suffered a loss. Thank-you for reading ~ Novi

(gentle hugs back) Hi ShanN, Hope you're feeling better! Am sending as much positive energy for your husband as I can <3 Thanks for reading my post and sharing how you relate. It's nice to know I'm not alone, even if it is unfortunate for both of us having to deal with this sort of pain. A sudden death is such a weird thing to have to absorb, not to mention eventually accept as part of life. Not that it's easier when it's anticipated with sickness, but at least you can brace yourself for that blow. I could go on forever, but I know you understand. Thanks for your suggestion of writing a letter, and quite frankly I've thought about that a lot lately. The last letter I wrote was to my mom and she was still in palliative care at the time. I wrote everything down, things I wished, things I regretted, things I was sorry for, things I was thankful for... and things I promised to her. One of those promises was to live my life to the fullest. I don't want to break my promise. I haven't had the courage to read that letter again, but I know I will have to soon in order to get myself back in order. Along with that letter I gave to her a poem that I had written for her shortly after we were told she was going to die, but I never gave it to her until she was hospitalized, for some reason. I think I refused to believe she was going on a 'long vacation', as she herself put it. My brother had that very poem tattooed to his chest before her funeral. Both that letter and the poem were buried with her ashes after I read it at the ceremony. The letter is rather personal, but this is the poem if anyone would like to read it. KayC Thanks for reading my post and complimenting my writing. It means a lot more than you know. It's funny you should ask... I've already started writing a story, although it doesn't include the loss of my dad... My mom knew I loved to write, and without my knowledge she started to write down changes that were happening with her, also doctor's appointment and stuff like that. She did it for as long as she could. She had this notebook, and you can distinctly see when her penmanship became too shaky. It was at this point she told me about it, and suggested that maybe I should continue with the notes - a day to day journal of her experience with her journey into death. So I told her I would and I did. I have around fifty pages of raw notes... Now I just need to find the courage to construct it into a 'phenomenology'. It sounds weird, I know. But I think that many could learn from the sheer honesty of it...

Sorry for this delayed post - I'm sort of new here too... I posted here a few times after my mom's death in 2011 and haven't really been back since. For whatever reason, I seemed alright until after the one year mark, and lately I feel like I'm starting to grieve for her (all over again?)... anyways, I regret not being more active, because I'm just now starting to respond to other people's posts. Support is helpful both given and received... I was very sad to read about what happened to you. You've endured so many types of grieving, I'm sorry you went through so much. You've pretty much endured pain and loss your entire life. I have a friend that lives in the city I just moved from, and when he was 12 he was involved in a car accident. His dad died while saving his life. When his dad was killed he was the same age as me, 32. My friend is a few years older than me, and I remember the months leading up to his 32nd birthday, he was convinced that as punishment for killing his dad (which is not true to begin with) he would die before he turned 32. Do you ever think like that? I ask because you wrote in one of your responses to one of my threads: "Why did he take her life when I was a child. It wasn't her fault. It was mine". I hope you didn't mean that, because this was not at all your fault. And I hope that your stepdad is being punished for the crimes he committed to you and your mother. I'm very happy that you managed to find a therapist that you trust. At least you're getting a bit of a break in life, especially now that your husband is in the hospital. Get some rest and feel better so you can be there with him!

Blondie, I'm so sorry to read about the loss of your daughter... Although there are no words that will ease the pain you are in right now, please know that you are in my thoughts. Please take care of yourself. ~ Novi

"My thoughts are very tangled, it's quite a mess up there... I'm feeling trapped and strangled, this is too much to bear! Although my thoughts are tied in knots, There's a start and I know where..." The date is Saturday, January 24th, 1998. I woke up suddenly to the sound of my sister's blood curdling scream. I sat up startled and as soon as I did I could smell the overwhelming fumes in my room. That's when I knew he was dead. I rushed out of my room, ran into the garage and saw my sister standing there. I went down the three steps leading to the car, and I remember thinking that this was just a dream. I was lethargic - much too calm as I walked over to my dad's car. My sister followed, and without exchanging a word to each other, she started to breathe for him as I started the chest compressions. We tried in vain to bring him back. I knew in my heart he was gone, but I just kept wishing he would come back. Wishing he wasn't dead. Fast forward now, to November 9th, 2011. It was a Wednesday, and it was around 4:30 in the morning when the phone rang. "It happened", my brother said. After I hung up the phone, I got up and managed to walk around to the front of the bed before I dropped to my knees and broke down. It's not like I didn't know this was coming, but hearing the news that mom is dead just brought the wave of reality crashing down, and I felt like I was drowning under its weight. For months my brother and I cared for her, watched her deteriorate. Watched her suffer... wishing for her pain to end. Wishing for her to die.

Sorry you aren't feeling well. Sick as a dog yup, that's the saying and that was me last week. I hadn't been that sick in years. I think it's normal for everything to be amplified when you're feeling under the weather, even old injuries flare up for me, so I believe the same thing happens with grief and depression. They're wounds too. Drink lots of water and take care of yourself, wish I was there to make you chicken soup! I hate being alone too, especially when you need someone to take care of you. Feel better soon! (hugs) ~Novi

Thanks everyone for your replies. I didn't mean to make any of you worry, but re-reading my post from last night I guess it goes without saying that there is cause for concern. I'm at work today, it took a lot out of me just to get out of bed, and I got here 20 minutes late... I'm finding that this is becoming habit. I think part of my problem is that I need some real rest - I only took a week off after my mom died, and that was over a year ago now. I spent over 3 months caring for her, averaging an hour of sleep and still making it to work every day. I have no idea how I did it, and if I had to do it again... well, I don't even want to think about that. I would sometimes doze off at red lights during my commute to work. Needless to say, I'm still very exhausted, and a good night's sleep isn't gonna fix this. I do already take anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. I've been on Prozac since I was eight and was prescribed Ativan shortly before mom died. I tried therapy last summer but I didn't like the counselor. She said things I didn't agree with, an example of this - She insisted I was angry with my mom for dying. I was never and will never be angry at my mom. I told her this and she argued! I told her I used to be angry with my dad for taking his life and that this is where I wanted to start with the therapy, but she wouldn't discuss that. She was working backwards in my opinion. I quit therapy after only a month. As much as I don't like the idea of trying it again, I agree with you all that it might be in my best interest. I took the 4 minute depression test, and I scored 65. Anyting over 54 is considered severe depression. Thanks Marty for all the links for resources, I will definately be taking advantage of them. I also wanted to let all of you know that my work offers an assistance program called LifeWorks, they're the same group that I called last summer who eventually assigned me that counselor I didn't like. I think I will call them again, and since I'm in a new city I know I won't be assigned to the same counselor again. It's a starting point at least, because I don't even have a doctor in this city yet. I'll have to find one soon, before I run out of anti-depressants (but I made sure to get a large prescription from my old doctor before I moved away).

Thanks for sharing your story. I'm really not sure what to say, because I'm not in a great state of mind myself. I'm also grieving terribly for my mom. She died of stage for renal cell cancer last year. Please don't let your sister in law control how you grieve being the controlling type. This pain is yours and yours only, no one can tell you how fast to heal. I'm not sure about the afterlife either, and this scares me. I was raised roman catholic, but the belief is that if you take your life, you go to hell. I refuse to believe that my dad is suffering now. He died from a disease, just like my mom did. I believe that I will one day be with them again. I'm not sure in what form, but this simple belief is enough to keep me going for now. I like your interpretation of the lifesaver. Your mom is watching out for you!

I thought I was doing okay, but I'm not. I think I've been in denial. I get it, people tell me all the time... It's natural to lose your parents. But is it natural to be orphaned at 31 years old? My dad died by suicide when I was 17. My sister and I found him. I was never referred to any form of grief counseling. Kids at school didn't think I cared, since he chose his fate. How could they think that?? I was destroyed by it. I was angry for so long!! I remember being in my late twenties when I finally faced the reality of it. My anger was gone and all that was left was sadness. I miss my dad so much. Then a couple of years later, my mom was diagnosed with renal cell cancer, stage four. She was told she had about a year to live, she only lived another 3 months. I'm thankful that she died that fast, it was a blessing. I've never seen someone suffer so much. This is where I struggle. Yes, everyone, parents are supposed to die before their kids. It's not her death that haunts me, it's the suffering she endured. I saw it all, and I can't get the memories to go away. Is it normal to be driving your mom to the cancer hospital to get another round of radiation, while she coughs blood? Is it natural for your mom's eyes to turn blue because the cancer has moved to her brain?? No, I don't think so. She's been gone a year and a month now. I'm so lost... I'm the second born of three children. The black sheep of the family. I was the only one of three that got the luxury to see both parents dead. It's not fair and I'm starting to fall apart. I work, I function in society. I've recently moved cities to try and get away from my pain, but after 3 months of living this new life, I realize that I can't run away from myself. I'm feeling really suicidal lately and I'm scared. My father took his life January 24th in 1998.. and this year I'm not ready to face January 24th. I don't want to do anything stupid, but I'm lost and lonely in a new giant city. I guess I just need someone to hear me and tell me things will be alright. They usually turn out ok, I made it this far in life....

She's been dead for a little shy of 6 months. Unlike my father, mom was buried right here in town. She did that specifically for us kids because she saw how hard it was for us to not be able to visit dad. But I can't bring myself to visit her. I think part of the problem is that we (my brother and I) are fighting with the monument place for her tombstone, which we paid for in full back in November. They have all these excuses as to why they aren't calling back and why the product was never delivered etc etc. I can't visit a decapitated grave. But I can't help wonder if this is the only problem? I think I'm using that as an excuse and I'm not sure why... Why don't I want to go see mom? What am I really afraid of? In 14 years I only went to visit my dad once. I don't feel any guilt because of it. But all week I've felt this overwhelming guilt for not visiting mom. I'm struggling with the 6 month mark and the fact that mother's day is approaching. I wish I could hear the sound of her humming, she never even noticed she was doing that half the time. I miss her so much. I wish I could hug you one last time mum, I love you so much!

@ Raindrop - I hope you find someone to share Christmas with, no one should spend that day alone. For me, the closer we get to Christmas, the more I feel as though I am losing my grasp on reality.... On September 28th, my mom and I went to see the doctor to get 'Sutent', a medication that will prolong her life expectancy. Instead she received news that there was nothing more the doctors could do for her, and now it was just a matter of keeping her comfortable until death took her. After this long battle. I've never held and cried so hard with someone in my life. The next day, September 29th is my birthday. In mid-October my mom became paralyzed and had to be rushed to the hospital. She was admitted into palliative care that day. Hallowe'en used to be my favorite holiday. Now I'm not so sure. Then comes my sister's birthday, November 4th, and my mom's death, November 9th. I will always have something a bit more personal to remember on Remembrance Day now. Then there's today, December 12th and it's my brother's 26th un-birthday. He wants nothing to do with it. And then Christmas. If I can get through my first parent-less Christmas without going insane I will be so relieved. This will leave only January left to struggle through, the month my dad chose to take his life - January 24th, 1998. Every year January is extremely hard for me. February may get a little bit easier, but only once the 15th has come and gone. My mom would have turned 60. I want to get a tattoo that day, in memory of my mother's life, if I make it till then with a sound mind. I like the poem MartyT posted here: http://hovforum.ipbhost.com/index.php?showtopic=7062&view=findpost&p=57357 but I can't say that it applies to me... the ending is all wrong. ~Novi

I went to my work's Holiday Gala on Friday. I thought it would be nice to get out after the horrible ordeal I had experienced, watching my mother die slowly, painfully... coughing up blood and gasping for air, not to mention the trauma done to her spine by this cancer. The injury she sustained was something the body would experience as the result of a catastrophic car crash - three compressed vertebrae, permanent paralyses from the chest down - and yet all she did was sit at home and cough up blood. I took care of her until she was transferred to her short stay in palliative care. And even there I stayed by her side as she remained bed ridden and back in diapers at only 59 years old. Day and night, I sat beside my trapped, energetic mother. Repressed memories came back to her - of being molested by her uncle. The abuse began when she was still in diapers. She told me this while at the hospital, and it broke my heart. All these years I've wondered why the lack of affection from her, and with this new knowledge it explains everything. I wish I hadn't been so mad at her growing up now for being so cold because I now understand the why. I'll never know if it was the cancer that got to her brain, or if it was her past that had come back to haunt her, but after she told me the story of her uncle, her lucidity slowly faded away. All that remained was the broken shell of a small child. Babbling things that made no sense. But back to the Holiday Gala. I had a horrible time, and for such a stupid reason. The little rubber snowflake decals spread over the table reminded me of the little snowflakes on the hospital gown my mom wore during those last few weeks of her life. I had a panic attack and a friend drove me home. I haven't been right since. How can I be all messed up over snowflakes? Last night I had a dream that I had a nervous breakdown and had to be institutionalized. I'm scared that this was a premonition and not a dream. Please someone tell me something that will make me feel better because I don't want to end up like my dad. ~ Novi

I can't delete this post - but I no longer want to share this poem. Thanks, Novi

Because that is the question that will 'get' you in the end. If I stopped to ask why I found my dad dead in the garage when I was seventeen, it would drive me mad. If I stopped to ask why my dad had chosen to take his own life, it would make me want to take mine. Through experience I've learned that life is full of disappointments, and because of it have also learned that it's sometimes best to never ask why. Just leave it at unfair. It is unfair that my mom died less than three weeks ago. It is unfair that she suffered so much in the last three months of her life. It is unfair that the time we should have had together was cruelly taken from us. It is unfair that at thirty-one I no longer have parents to turn to for advice, or for a hug... I am grateful that my dad no longer suffers from this terrible disease called depression that plagued him for so long. I am grateful that my mom no longer suffers from this terrible disease called cancer that plagued her so suddenly. She was a fighter but was never given a fair chance. I hope that I am coping well, because I can't say that I am not afraid right now. ~ Novi

Yes, actually I do. I've recently witnessed my mom die of cancer, it was a short but painful journey. Watching her was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I love horror movies, but have not watched one in quite some time now. I can't bear the thought of watching someone die right now... it brings me back to places I'm not willing to face.

I hope you are okay and still hanging in there. it's been hard for me too with my mom and all, but I've thought of you. Give us news when you have a moment...