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Shari, if you plan on having children someday, then it is especially important not to settle. I am so happy for you that you are so close to graduation. I really admire how you were able to persevere through such difficult circumstances. I am currently reading a book called "Healing the Adult Child's Grieving Heart: 100 Practical Ideas After Your Parent Dies" (Healing Your Grieving Heart series) Kindle Edition by Alan D. Wolfelt PhD (Author). It is very easy to read, maybe a little too simple for some people, but I think the ideas are helpful.

Thank you for the tip, Kay. I have downloaded the book on Amazon and look forward to reading it. Just today my partner said he's going to try harder to learn English and how to use a computer, which is encouraging. In return, I will put more effort into organizing our living space. I've been storing things that belonged to both my parents, my grandmother and my great uncle, and it's overwhelming at times to sort through everything, but we are helping each other.

Shari, I agree with Kay, you are too young and beautiful to settle. I recently settled, because I am no longer young, but that doesn't mean I would ever settle for someone who didn't love or respect me. We haven't married yet. We are taking it one day at a time. I took a huge chance letting a man move in with me after only dating for six weeks. It hasn't been easy living with someone I didn't know that well. We've had our share of arguments, but now we don't argue so much anymore. We are so different -- he's a morning person and I'm a night owl. He likes to be bossy, and I'm not used to being bossed around. He's smart, but not very educated, so there are a lot of things I can't share with him that I shared with my father, but gradually we are starting to appreciate each other's interests and personality. We are facing life's problems together which is a great comfort to me. Before my father died, I never in a million years thought I would end up being with this man but grief makes strange bedfellows. One thing going for us is that I never had a steady boyfriend before, so it's all new to me and there's no one else with whom to compare him. He can never compare with my father, but it was a different kind of relationship. He's been divorced for 15 years, but he doesn't carry a torch for his ex-wife, because she put him through hell. He appreciates me because I'm a lot kinder than she was. I've been away from the forum for a long time, but I've been thinking of you and wish you the best. After my father's death, I was living alone for the first time in my life and felt terribly lonely, until last August when my former gardener started dating me. He showed up on my doorstep one day with the intention of visiting my father. He was very saddened when I told him he had died two days after Christmas in 2014. He said he wanted to pay his respects at the cemetery and offered to take me there. I had just bought some flowers for my dad's home altar, so I said what about right now? That's how it started. He moved in with me so soon, because he needed a place to stay after the property where he was renting was sold to a new owner. He would have had to move far away, because rents are too high here. I enjoyed his company too much to risk losing him. I knew him for a couple of years as my gardener/handyman, and had always liked him, but never felt attracted to him. That changed after we started going out together. He looks great in a tuxedo -- we recently went to my brother's 60th birthday party which was held at a masquerade ball and I honestly thought he was the best looking man there. I guess love does that to a person. He is not the type of man my father would have approved of, but I'm sure he would rather that I have someone to protect me and keep me company. My boyfriend is a badass so I feel safe when he's around, but he is also a compassionate person with a good sense of humor. I was getting hundreds of responses on the dating sites, but it's so much safer to date someone I already know. I ended up dating only one person online who I mentioned in an earlier post, but he wanted to live on a yacht (I didn't). My partner and I have been living together now for six months. He's from Mexico and doesn't speak English that well, but being half Mexican myself, I know Spanish well enough. We are not each other's ideal mate, but we are both lonely and have suffered through grief, so we understand each other. He's not as romantic as I would like him to be, but he shows his love by doing things around the house for me. He's also a great cook, since he used to be a professional chef. Recently, my partner's friend brought over a mechanic to fix his car and truck. From the very start the mechanic was very friendly towards me and tried to woo me away from my boyfriend. At first, I was thrilled by all the things we had in common. He was way more romantic and said the things I've always wanted a man to say to me. He's educated, well read, and speaks English fluently, but I found out soon enough that he's not very honest, so he made me appreciate my partner all the more. And since nothing perks a man's interest more than a rival, my partner also seems to appreciate me more these days. I still miss my dad terribly, but thanks to my partner, I am able to watch movies and tv again without feeling so depressed and anxious. When I was alone, I went for eight months rarely turning on the television, because I missed watching movies with my dad. I am now sleeping better. I'm no longer dependent on any sleep medications. I still cry at times, mostly when I'm alone, but my partner comforts me when he's around. I probably will never be as happy as I was when my father was alive, but I'm no longer as unhappy as I was when I was all alone. i know that many people choose to live alone rather than settle for someone who isn't right for them. That is very wise, but I'm too used to living with someone. I realize that no partner is going to be 100 percent perfect, so I try to appreciate him for what he has to offer, rather than what he doesn't have. If we break up it's going to be very hard to be alone again, but I am in a better place emotionally than I was six months ago, thanks in no small part to him. I think for as long as we need each other, we will be motivated to make it work. We both feel like God put us in each other's path. I remember one night I cried myself to sleep asking God to send someone to ease my loneliness. The following day I got a date from a lawyer on the dating site. He was nice but not the man for me, so a few weeks later I again cried out to God to send me a good friend, and the following day my gardener showed up on my doorstep. He had been in the hospital himself, recovering from an injury, so I hadn't heard from him in almost a year. I am not making this up. I hope you will soon find someone who can appreciate you and help ease the loneliness. If it could happen to me, someone who doesn't get out much, it could happen to anyone. I had to settle for a relatively poor man but money isn't everything. I like the fact that there aren't any golddiggers after him. Best of luck with your studies!

I also feel like my real life finished when my dad died. I will pray for your mother, James. She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt how much you loved her. “Now there is one thing I can tell you: you will enjoy certain pleasures you would not fathom now. When you still had your mother you often thought of the days when you would have her no longer. Now you will often think of days past when you had her. When you are used to this horrible thing that they will forever be cast into the past, then you will gently feel her revive, returning to take her place, her entire place, beside you. At the present time, this is not yet possible. Let yourself be inert, wait till the incomprehensible power ... that has broken you restores you a little, I say a little, for henceforth you will always keep something broken about you. Tell yourself this, too, for it is a kind of pleasure to know that you will never love less, that you will never be consoled, that you will constantly remember more and more.” ― Marcel Proust

Thank you, James, for sharing the photo of your mother. She has such a kind face. She must have been a wonderful mother for you to miss her so. I miss my father with all my heart, so I know how it feels to miss a beloved parent. Sunday was my dad's birthday. He would have been 87. I went to the cemetery by cab, because there was no one to drive me there. Luckily, I got a cabbie who was willing to wait for me while I bought the roses. Then he waited for me again while I placed the flowers on my dad's grave. The cabbie prayed with me, even though he's a Pakistani Muslim and didn't know the Christian prayers. He also helped me dispose of the old flowers and wrappings. Thank God for good people. I told the cabbie, "This is where I'll be buried; there's room for four." The cabbie asked, "Who's going in the fourth spot?" I answered, "My future husband." The cabbie laughed and said, "You can put that on your dating ad -- free burial plot included." We laughed. It was a bit of levity on an otherwise sad day, six months since my wonderful father passed away.

Dear Kayc, I am thinking of you as you pass this sad milestone. You have provided so much comfort and compassion to others, I hope that you can feel the caring and gratitude of myself and others on this site. God bless you always.

Thank you for sharing your very moving story, Suzanne. I think I mentioned this on another thread, but early one morning almost fifty years ago, my aunt who suffered from advanced scleroderma experienced a heavenly vision on the wall of her bedroom. She tried to waken her husband so he could see it. He was normally a light sleeper, but he would not stir. The vision was meant for her eyes only. When he awoke, she asked her husband to take her to church and shortly afterward she passed away.

I understand how you feel, KayC. Well, I met the attorney for lunch yesterday. He talked me into it -- he's a good lawyer! He wants to see me again in a couple of weeks when he comes to the Bay Area to shop for a yacht. We're just platonic friends at this point, but he seems like a very nice man. I'm not saying anything more will come of this, but he's the most interesting person I have met since my father died and that's something. He's thinking of moving to the SF Bay Area, so maybe I'll get to see him more often. He could be the answer to my prayers. The other night I was praying harder than usual. I was crying when I asked God to send me a good friend. I cried myself to sleep. The next day the lawyer invited me for a cup of coffee. I'm not making this up. He's the first man who actually gave me an invitation as to where and when, instead of just sayiing, "I want to meet you." I told him I had cold feed, because I've never met a stranger in this manner before. Then he invited me to lunch and reassured me that he's just looking for a friend. Playing hard to get really works, even though I wasn't doing it on purpose. I was nervous at first, because I was afraid he might be arrogant. He wasn't at all. The waiter was more snooty than him! I had a nice time. Lawyers are good talkers, of course. I think the faith based dating sites are safer though there are scammers everywhere. From his first name, his photos and his location, I was able to find out that he is a reputable lawyer, a former deputy district attorney. That's what convinced me to meet him. He even took me to the courthouse with him, so it was a learning experience. On the way home, I felt kind of sad that it's not easy to find friends who share my interests -- he's not that much into old movies or vintage music as I am, but I now know more about boats and the legal system than I did before. He's certainly the nicest lawyer I've ever met. I can't believe I did this and it turned out so well. I just got a text from him and he said he's my friend. As I was walking down Market Street a young good looking man handing out free samples for a beauty shop chatted me up a bit. He asked me, "Are you married or happy?" I replied, "Happy."

Thank you for your good advice, Kay. Not being much of a drinker before my grief experience, drunk driving is not an issue I've ever had to deal with personally before. Shari, I agree with Kay that you are very wise for your years. Sometimes I think I was wiser when I was younger. Loneliness has made me do some foolish things, such as drink too much, spend too much and join various dating sites. I told the gentleman on the dating site that I was getting cold feet about meeting him. He told me to take my time. Turns out he's both a lawyer and a realtor.

Hi, Shari, I hope things are going well for you. Thank you for wishing me a happy belated birthday. I now know what you mean about baby sitting adults when it comes to alcohol. I met a very nice older widow at the grief support meeting at church. She offered me a ride home and I invited her to dinner. We had a very nice time, except I got worried because she drank three cocktails before driving home. I did, too, but I don't have a driver's license since I've never owned a car. She seemed fine, and she got me home ok, but I still was worried about her. Luckily, she only lives 2 miles away. Now I don't know what to do the next time we dine together. Do I have to stop her from drinking more than one cocktail per hour? I just met her, so I don't want to offend her. She's old enough to know better and she may have more tolerance (the cocktails weren't that big). No matter what it is in life, there's always complications. I've been crying almost every day now. I miss my dad so much. Hanging out with friends and relatives just isn't the same as spending time with my dad was. I had a chance to date a lawyer on Monday but I turned him down, because I'm so afraid of scammers. I met him on a dating site. I don't know who is for real out there! Even if he is a lawyer that's kind of scary in itself. My cousin was married to a realtor who put their three houses in her name only and embezzled his life savings! Take care and be safe.

My heart goes out to you, MissingMom. I am going through many of the same thoughts and feelings after I lost my dad five months ago. I also feel like the hospital let him die, even before he was put into Comfort Care. I did the research, but they wouldn't listen to the things I suggested -- they made mistakes that seem deliberate. They kept pushing hospice even before he got worse. I wish so much that I had gotten a second opinion before it was too late. It's so much the luck of the draw. Sometimes you get dedicated, even heroic, doctors and nurses, but more often you get ones that just don't seem to care about anything except the money. Since my dad wouldn't have a heart operation, they figured he wasn't profitable enough. One doctor said he might as well be a DNR and an ICU nurse said she didn't believe in prolonging life artificially on account of her religious beliefs. A hospitalist said he's been hospitalized for the same problem multiple times, he might as well go to hospice. I told her his quality of life was good between hospitalizations and he was getting better in some ways. He had beaten diabetes and peripheral arterial disease -- they need to try a different diuretic, but they wouldn't do it or switch him to a hospital that offers aquapheresis, a light form of dialysis. Then they had a "mixup" at the lab where they didn't give him a sputum culture but they kept giving him powerful last resort antibiotics that damaged his kidneys even further. They also gave him two pneumonia vaccines which probably overwhelmed his already stressed immune system. He had a massive heart attack a few hours later. A lady in the waiting room told me they tried to discharge her father with a perforated bowel! Something is terribly wrong with our health care system. I cry every day now for my father. It's not just the guilt now, but the realization that I have lost the best friend I ever had and who I probably ever will have. I have been trying to make new friends and go out with relatives and old friends but it just emphasizes how much more happy I was with my dad than with anyone else. My fourth therapist tells me that I shouldn't feel guilty, because in the wheel of life our parents are only supposed to be one spoke, not the whole wheel, like my dad was to me. Well, he was like 90 percent of my life, which makes me feel as if I died with him. We were like one mind in two bodies, because he raised me to like everything he liked. In the last 14 years we were together almost 24/7. I am very grateful I had such a wonderful father, but the future ahead looks so bleak and colorless. I have been drinking more, something my father always frowned upon. I hardly ever went to bars while he was alive. I finally stopped drinking pisco sours, but now I like a cocktail called the Porch Light. I took a nice widow I met at the grief support group to the restaurant where they serve them and she had three of them like me! I was so worried, because she had to drive home. She seemed fine. She probably could drink me under the table, but now I feel like I'm a bad influence. How can I tell someone I hardly know not to drink another delicious cocktail without offending her? Especially when all she's trying to do is have a little happiness. She is devastated after she lost her husband of 30 years three years ago. She said the first year and a half were the worst and the grief support group helped her. She came back because some dear friends of hers passed away so she needed help again. I don't have any advice that you haven't already received. A cab driver told me the other day (as Suitearia also suggested): "Get out and walk as much as you can, join a gym if you have to. Go and walk at a park, get close to nature." He used to be a personal trainer at a gym. This was the second time I talked with him. I also talked to a cab driver on the way home who said after he lost his house and his girlfriend (she's still alive), he cried every day for a whole year. Grief is the hardest thing in life. I read that the hardest thing about grief is actually allowing yourself to do it. The article I read is here: http://everydayfeminism.com/2013/08/the-hardest-part-of-grieving/ As James said, grief is a private hell but we have to take it one day at a time or even 1 hour at a time sometimes. I wish you the very best.

I cried when I watched this very touching commercial by Teleflora, Ryan's unforgettable Mother's Day delivery to Mom: https://youtu.be/j2zhVs1cUgU It may be too intense for those who recently lost their mother, but the sentiments can apply to anyone raised by a single parent.

Way to go, Shari! I wish you all the success in the world, and I won't hate you when you get it, like some people do. I know my dad wanted to live for my sake and for his own. As he was dying, the hardest part was when his brow became furrowed, like he was trying to wake up, but he couldn't. These moments didn't last long, but I felt like he was being killed by the morphine and there was nothing I could do. I think it was his own body's toxins that were killing him, because of the kidney failure. I cried before and after he died, but only in short bursts. I was numb for a couple of months. I did not cry at his funeral, which disturbed me and my relatives. I was very sad but could not find release. However, in the last two months, I've been crying more often and more intensely than before. I'm glad I'm going to see my counselor tomorrow, because I have no one to talk to here, and my relatives don't have much time for me. The whole ordeal of watching my dad die seemed unreal. As I looked out the hospital window watching day turn into night, I felt like the world was foreign to me -- like I wasn't connected to it anymore. I had the same feeling when I went to the de Young museum last month. The observation tower is new, so I had never seen the view from up there before. I know that my father would have loved it. There's a 360 degree view of Golden Gate Park and the rest of San Francisco. As I looked down, I saw the familiar places I visited as a child, the Spreckels Temple of Music, the grove of trees on the concourse, USF where I went to school and Lone Mountain College where my mother attended, the spires of St. Ignatius Church....I was filled with a sense of weary nostalgia for my youth which didn't seem so long ago -- life is too short. I also observed the sphinx sculptures and the Pool of Enchantment. I imagined my little grandmother (she was 4' 11") sitting next to the left sphinx as she did in an old photo I have. What normally would have been an exciting view made me feel detached, like I was already dead. Is this how spirits see the world from above? I bought a mug with a view of the Panama Pacific International Exposition of 1915 on it. Why couldn't I have found this mug when my father was alive? He would have liked it -- we were both big fans of the Exposition. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at the books and photos of the fair with the same pleasure now that he's gone. I know it will get better, but it will never be the same. A high school classmate got in touch with me on Facebook. She said she had the sudden urge to contact me (for the first time in 38 years), and she thinks maybe it was my father getting in touch with her. We had dinner together yesterday at my favorite Peruvian restaurant. I never tire of that place. She told me that after her mother died, she went to a spiritualist church and she wants me to go with her at their next meeting (tomorrow evening). She said when the clairvoyant selected her from the audience, suddenly everything went black and she saw rain -- inside the building. She said the clairvoyant told her a message from her mother and she really believes it was her mother's spirit communicating through the medium. Naturally, I'm skeptical, but also curious about this spiritualist church. I don't know what to believe, but I worry about some strange spirit following me home. My friend Ray has a brother with psychic ability who can see spirits. One day their other brother walked into a room and the psychic brother said to him, "Where have you been? You've brought a lot of spirits with you." He had just been in an antique shop looking at antiques that had spirits attached to them or some such thing.

Shari, The resentment you felt toward your dad was natural and not your fault. As nice as my dad was, and even though he was always right here with me, I used to resent that he didn't want to go out and do more fun things with me. He did go some fun places with me, for my sake, such as a trip to Mexico and a couple of times to the Dickens Christmas Fair. He ended up enjoying himself, and looking back on those experiences with pleasure. If we had gone out more, before he got too sick, there would have been many more good memories to cherish. He was always happiest at home watching movies or sports. I turned 56 on Friday. I felt so alone on my first birthday without my father, I cried, even though people called and emailed me with good wishes. Fortunately, my half brother, his wife and my niece took me to dinner at my favorite Peruvian restaurant. I had a very nice time. My pisco sour had a smiley face on it, made out of angostura bitters. On the way home we were laughing about the Star Wars movies. I mentioned I used to have a crush on Boba Fett! That cracked them up. Then the following day I had dinner with my cousin Vivian who is a gourmet cook -- she prepared an entire Peruvian feast for me, complete with Pisco Sour cocktails! It blew me away that she would do that for me, especially since she had never tasted Peruvian food before. I only recently discovered Peruvian food and pisco sours. It's the only food and cocktail I really like now, because it's very tasty and something not associated with my father since he never tried it. I would not recommend drinking alone -- you are wise not to do that, but I understand the temptation. I only had two pisco sours with food, so I was relaxed but not even tipsy. I also had two glasses of champagne with dessert but much later. One thing I probably shouldn't admit is that I smoked my first joint ever on Saturday night. My cousins make such a big deal about marijuana, I was tempted to see if it would make me feel happy or help me sleep. It didn't have much effect on me. I laughed because I was doing something out of character, not because it was so great (not for me, anyway). My cousin Randy called me in the morning to check up on me. He said he was worried about me being all alone in "the house on haunted hill" after my first joint. I told him I didn't have any bad reaction, but it didn't really help me either. Lots of drugs and sleep remedies don't help me like they're supposed to. Like your dad, my dad would not want me drinking alcohol, except for a little red wine with dinner. My dad also didn't want me smoking anything -- he didn't even like me to burn candles or incense. I think he would understand that I tried the marijuana only to see if it would have a medicinal effect -- so many people were urging me to try it for my insomnia. A few years ago, a friend gave me a hookah pipe with a whole box of assorted tobaccos, but I never used it, out of respect for my father and for my own health. You are certainly under a lot more peer pressure than I am to drink and smoke. I laud your self control. Under no circumstances would I ever drink to the point where I wasn't in control of myself or aware of my surroundings. I just get pleasantly tipsy. I've never been drunk or sick from drinking too much. Alcohol can make you depressed the next day. Please be careful. If you do drink, don't ever leave your drink unattended. If you leave a drink alone, don't drink it. You are too young and beautiful to take any chances. Do you have room to create a small shrine for your dad in your bedroom? On a table near my front door I have a small metal shrine niche that looks like this: http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Tjd6PCABL.jpg I bought it on Amazon from Design Toscano. I have a small framed picture of my dad in front of the statue of the Blessed Mother along with battery-operated votive candles which I keep burning day and night. Maybe you could put an urn containing your dad's ashes inside a niche like this. I also put other smaller statues of saints in front. I'm Catholic, but somewhat agnostic. My dad used to be an altar boy. For Easter I put two Easter lilies on either side of the niche. Now I have the birthday bouquet my brother gave me next to it. Buying flowers for the cemetery is going to bankrupt me, because I have too many dead relatives now, so I will have to stop going so often at some point. Maybe when you will feel recovered enough, you could scatter your dad's ashes from a hot air balloon. Or a less expensive ritual might be to light sky lanterns, which are candle-powered hot air balloons that you could release into the night sky. They have them on Amazon, a 14 pack for $13.79 in assorted colors. I would love to do this for my dad on his birthday. I should have done it when he was alive, but without a car, it was too hard to get to a safe location to release the lanterns -- there are strict fire ordinances in San Francisco. My half brother didn't have time to visit my dad on his birthdays in the last three years. One of my uncle's ashes are kept at a niche in a church in Mexico. Lots of cemeteries have above ground columbariums for urns. The stuffed grapefruit thing sounds so cute!

Dear Lori, my sincere sympathy for your loss. I'm not the most qualified to advise you, because I've never been married, never had children, I've never even been in love (just infatuated), but I know what the pain of loneliness is, now that I'm alone for the first time in my life. I also can relate to wanting to have a normal life, something I've never experienced. I've never had the love of my mother, but your children are lucky to have you. Big Brothers of America www.bbbs.org might be helpful in providing a male role model for your children. A Stephen Minister might be helpful for your faith crisis and just as someone to talk to: https://www.stephenministries.org/ In the following video Joyce Meyers tells us that what happened to your husband was between him and God, and not that God wasn't listening to your prayers: How To Overcome the Pain of Losing a Loved One https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_RoRpmD8eE I'm at a point where I can finally recommend counseling. I tried three therapists who were not a good fit for me, but I now have a counselor who seems very promising. She specializes in emotional intelligence and cognitive behavioral therapy. I can even relate to your guilt about shopping. As a longtime caregiver, I became a compulsive online shopper as a way to cope with the deprivation of my lifestyle. Now I've switched from buying stuff to eating out at restaurants once a week with relatives and friends, because it eases the loneliness. You are still young and there must be men who would be thrilled to have a ready made family to love and protect. Most men are natural born problem solvers (when they're not the problem themselves). I wish you and your family comfort and peace.

My friend Ray just called and suggested I watch the film "Jack" (1996) with Robin Williams. I haven't watched it yet, but he said that there's a eulogy at the end that might help me cope with what I'm going through re the loss of my father. Thought I'd mention it, in case it might be helpful to anyone else on here.

Shari, I also worried about whether my dad was really gone. After 36 hours of listening to his labored breathing, counting his respirations alone in the dark, so many times I thought he had taken his last breath, but another breath would arrive after a long pause. I finally fell asleep in the chair when a nurse told me my father had passed and she saw him take his last breath. It was as if he had waited for me to fall asleep before leaving this world. My friend Ray, the Chinese engineer, said that the spirit takes a while to leave the body and lingers in the room watching their own body impassively. Your dad knows that you loved him. Don't let your heart be troubled. I should take my own advice.

Shari, I feel your pain. I miss my dad so much, I can't even describe it. When he was dying, I wanted to tell my dad that I would be ok, but all I could get out was that everything was ok at home. I thanked him for being a wonderful father. I asked him to forgive me for whenever I wasn't a good daughter. He nodded -- he knew about my guilt complex. I regret every critical word I ever said to him. I always apologized right away, but I took his forgiveness for granted and I feel terrible about that Having a good memory, I remember every sad thing that ever happened to him, even things that weren't my fault or his. I practically sacrificed my life for him, but it's not enough to take away the guilt I feel for not being there when he was suffering. I also regret all the times I spent on my own hobbies which I could have spent with him, even though I was only in the next room. I spent quality time with him every day, but it isn't enough to make me feel I did enough for him. Now that he's gone, I feel like I took him for granted. I just found a photo album from his younger days that I wish we had looked through together recently, so I could have expressed my admiration for him one last time. I thought he still had a few years left. This morning on the spur of the moment, I asked my cousin to rent a car and drive us to the cemetery so that I could place flowers on my beloved dad's grave. Then we drove to Half Moon Bay. It was the first time I had been out amidst nature since Valentine's Day when my other cousin drove me to the beach. I was too depressed to enjoy the sunset then, but this time I enjoyed the scenery better. I still thought about my dad almost the whole time. On the way home, I saw the spot where my dad used to stand when he waited for me to come home from school when I was a little girl. We would walk home up the hill together. The world is a lot sadder than those happy, carefree years with my darling daddy. I waved to my invisible dad as we drove past. I don't see many fathers walking their children home anymore. I don't see many free-range kids either. Right now I'm eating popcorn with champagne. I don't normally drink alone, but it helps numb the pain. I had two margaritas at lunch, but they tasted like Hawaiian punch with no punch, if you know what I mean.

I'm keeping my head up, Shari. It was wonderful how we were loved and appreciated by our fathers. We'll never experience the unconditional love of a father again, but we might find our soul mates. It can happen when you least expect it. The Urban Dictionary states: "Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness and happiness when you are around them." It's best not to get hung up on finding the perfect soul mate, because he might not show up, but if he does, it's like hitting the jackpot! This evening I was talking with an engineer friend for several hours and I asked him what he thought about your situation and he said to tell you to stay in school. Let your studies distract you from your grief. He also knows someone who after ten years is still paying off her $140,000 student loan. Life is tough, but most of his relatives and friends own apartment buildings and enjoy a great quality of life, thanks to their college degrees. He remembers when he was a kid living in Chinatown, his family was so poor that on his birthday his mother would give him a chicken drumstick and divide it five ways to share with his brothers. His mother raised five boys by herself, but she had relatives in China who loaned her money to buy a small grocery store. After much scrimping and saving, she eventually bought an apartment building. Now in memory of his late mother, on her birthday he is going to cook a chicken drumstick and divide it five ways with his brothers, all successful men now, to remind them of their mother's sacrifices for them. The Chinese believe that honoring the dead brings them prosperity. On Easter Sunday was the traditional Chinese festival called Tomb-Sweeping Day. He and his friend were in charge of lighting the fireworks in the cemetery. Some of the streamers fell onto a tree and the wind blew them onto my friend. He said that that was an auspicious sign of blessings for the coming year. My friend was thinking back to when my father was praying for God's mercy in the hospital. He thinks he was praying for ME, because I'm the one who will need God's mercy now that I'm alone. It's an interesting concept but I think he was praying like a mantra to ease his anxiety from the respiratory distress. I think he was asking God for forgiveness and for an easy death. His prayers were answered -- my father's final moments of consciousness were peaceful, thank God. I told my friend how I feel regret because there were a lot of things I didn't do for my father that I had wanted to do, such as take him to Las Vegas. He said I'm thinking that way because I'm not thinking of all the good things that I did for him.

I'm the last person to advise you about college, because I dropped out in my third year to take care of my grandmother, but I'll put in my two cents. One thing that made the decision to drop out of college easier was because I was feeling a lack of motivation about my studies. I had graduated first in my class in high school, but college was tougher, especially since I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I was starting to feel a lack of motivation even in my senior year of high school, but I went to university, only because I qualified for a full scholarship and it was the sensible thing to do. I was crestfallen when I got the first "C" of my life in an economics course. I never was good with money. I'll bet other people with my small inheritance would be billionaires by now, but I never trusted the stock market, after my friend lost everything in the 1987 crash, even though she had an MS in Finance. I think my friend's mistake was not to invest in real estate. She used to be a millionaire and was flying off to Paris once a month just to eat fancy food when she should have bought a house. Anyway, as ctwilki said, your dad would be proud of you, whether you finish your education or not. He wanted to motivate you, because he wanted what was best for you, not just for bragging rights. Some of the best success stories often begin with failure. As Anne said, this could be just a temporary slump. Grief and now the foreclosure of your dad's house are a double whammy which would sway even the toughest people (if they have a heart). Grief and loss are difficult even under the best of circumstances. I've had to sell off parts of my yard, because it's extremely expensive to live in San Francisco, and my father and i couldn't survive on just his retirement income, even with me selling stuff on eBay. It was difficult, because some of my happiest childhood memories were in the garden, but I'm very glad I don't have to pay property taxes on that land anymore. I still dream about the garden from time to time, the way it used to be. Now it is literally a garden of dreams that never needs watering. Before I sold it, I took a long hard look at everything to imprint it on my memory, plus I took a lot of photos. The wealthy neighbor who bought it has spent a small fortune turning it into a beautiful outdoor living space. It took three whole months to transform it. He tore out every living thing on the lot, which I think was a big mistake, because now it looks too stark, but over time the new plants and trees will grow and it should look spectacular in a few years, but it won't ever have the charm of my garden of dreams. When I hear the neighbors having their patio parties I am reminded of my loss, but the money helped me repair my house and make the remaining garden space look nicer. There is still much to do, because life is always a struggle in some way. My dream is to win the lottery and buy the land back, now that he's done all the work. But that is just a pipe dream. If I won the lottery, I probably wouldn't want to stay here. If you stay in school, then one day you may be able to buy a much better home than your father's. It's the people who make a home, not the structure. Having a large yard was not the same after my beloved great aunts and uncles passed on. They were more fun than the relatives I have left, because they were down to earth and not so preoccupied with material things like the younger generations. They had survived a revolution and the Great Depression -- they were happy to be alive. But times have changed, and many people believe it's necessary to have some kind of degree to compete with more people vying for fewer jobs. On the other hand, students are graduating more indebted than ever before, and a bachelor’s degree won't guarantee economic prosperity. Some successful people recommend the best thing to do is to find your passion and then motivation will come from that. But it's hard to feel passionate about anything when you're in grief, so you have to give yourself time. Even successful people suffer a lack of motivation at times. Grief devastated Queen Victoria, and she had a lot of help. What you have done on your own is astonishing. You should blow your own horn! I can't even play a flute -- I tried years ago -- then I sold the flute on eBay. "It is never too late to be what you might have been." -- George Eliot

Many thanks, jame57. Hugs to you, too. I truly understand how you feel and I wish you the best as you go through the ordeal of grief. It's also going to take me a very long time to adjust to the loss of my father. The bond between us, a single parent and an only child, was especially strong. Even my godparents divorced, so my father was the only constant source of love and affirmation in my life. He never put me down but he didn't spoil me with too much praise either. He was a kind, decent, down to earth man who worried about my safety and who did the best he knew how to raise me. He had never finished high school, but he valued education enough to buy me lots of books as a child from the encyclopedia salesman. I was so proud of him. He was the coolest dad -- strong yet gentle, handsome, brave, humble, shy but friendly, good-humored, easy-going, and fun to be with. Looking back, I can't believe how lucky I was to have such a wonderful father. He wasn't perfect but who is? Sometimes I took him for granted, and I think sometimes he took me for granted, but that was only because we trusted each other completely. I loved him with all my heart. I wish I had complained less about the frustrations of life and just been happy that he was with me. He hardly complained about anything, and when he did, I felt so powerless to help him sometimes, but I did do a lot for him. With my help, he overcame one problem after another. I was overly optimistic. I thought his will to live would see him through. He was too considerate of other people. All the nurses loved him, because he didn't make demands, but only because they complained about having too much work to do. He should have been more demanding, even with me. He was so patient and charming. Even the good doctor said she wanted to see him smile again. I also wish I never had to join a grief support group, but I find it very helpful to write about my loss and to know that others understand my pain. I'm very glad that the counselling session helped you. I'm still waiting to be assigned a new therapist. All I want is a little empathy and kindness, not cold, clinical analysis.

It is so hard to lose a parent, whether the relationship was good or difficult. Since I didn't see my mother that often and hardly at all growing up, I tend to focus more on my grief for my father, because my father and I were close my entire life. I miss my mother, but I knew she was well cared for and didn't need me the way my father did. I received a free gift from the mortuary of a sterling silver pendant with my father's thumbprint on it. I like it because it reminds me of my dad's unique personality and how he touched my life as no one else ever will. He shared the traditional values of the Silent Generation, but he was also unlike anyone I've ever met. I'm deeply grateful to have had such a special father. Among his greatest gifts to me were that he made me feel safe, loved and respected. There were so many things I had hoped we'd be able to enjoy together, but we ran out of time. Almost every day I come across things that he would have liked and it's so depressing. I'll give life a chance. I'll even give love a chance. To borrow a line from Grumpy Cat: "There are only two things I don't like: change and the way things are."

Hi, Shari: I'm sure my mother being estranged from both her parents affected her ability to love others. I don't think she knew how to love anyone except her dogs. Mental illness makes people behave strangely, and they don't even realize it. I hope someday you'll get back into playing the trumpet and I'll be able to play the piano without it hurting so much. Like you, I am trying to take each day as it comes. Life IS so hard! I never realized just how hard it is until now that I'm alone. Time is on your side, but I feel like I have one foot in the grave and the other foot on a banana peel. Not that I have serious health problems that I know of, but grief makes me feel like I'm going crazy. My father kept me sane. The only good thing is that for the past week I have been sleeping without the Ativan. I still don't sleep as well as I did before my dad died. For the last two days I have woken up thinking there was someone I had promised to contact, but I couldn't think who it is. It must be a recurring stress dream. I still occasionally get those anxious dreams where I have to take a test at school, even though I haven't taken a class in 30 years. I read that a dreadful Test or Exam dream can result from the following issues that people face in life: *Procrastinating at something that needs to be done *Afraid to advance to the next step *A fear of being left behind *Feeling alone and scared *You feel stupid *Not being prepared *Self-esteem issues * A lack of motivation * You are feeling examined by people or examining yourself too hard * Don’t want to be stuck or left behind *Failure to conform I think I have all these issues, especially feeling alone and scared. I'm afraid of not being as happy as I used to be with my father. It's like that Peggy Lee song, "Is That All There Is?" You're too young to be familiar with that one, but it's on YouTube. I'm not really jaded, because I've hardly lived, compared to most people, but I can relate to the lyrics. As a caregiver most of my life I've seen too much suffering. I told my cousin I don't even want to live anymore, but I'm too scared to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge -- I might survive. I actually knew someone who did jump off the famous bridge. He didn't survive. He was a real estate agent who left behind a lovely wife and family. My cousin told me, "Give life a chance." Keep your head up, Shari!

Dear Katdoo and Flaky: I can certainly relate to what both of you are going through. My heartfelt condolences to you both and to all the others here who mourn their loved ones.. When my father was put into Comfort Care on the day after Christmas, I also felt like I had let him die. It seemed like the morphine hastened his death, but the doctor said it was his pneumonia, CHF, kidney disease and massive silent heart attack which caused his demise. I was alarmed that his pulse was still strong until the end. His oxygen saturation was good the last times they had checked it though they stopped monitoring everything to maximize his comfort. I thought how could a dying man have such a strong pulse and good oxygen saturation? He could not communicate for the last day and a half of his life. His breathing was labored and I had seen him go through respiratory distress in the ICU with no one around ot help him. I know he wanted to live for my sake and his own. We were looking forward to the return of spring which is now in full bloom. It's sad that illness so often prevents us from fully enjoying the fruits of our labor. I still regret the fact that he knew he was dying. I wish I hadn't told him he needed an operation, and to have it he would have had to go back on the ventilator. He didn't want to do that and so he knew he was doomed. I think it would have been more merciful not to tell him anything, but I needed to know his wishes. It's good he didn't choose the operation, because he might have suffered more, if he survived at all, so I shouldn't have even told him about it. When he asked me if he was dying, he caught me off guard. I should have said, "no one knows these things." Later I told him where there is life there is hope. He seemed like his usual calm self once the morphine started to kick in. I am so grateful for those last moments of seeing him comfortable. Was he really at peace or was he being brave for my sake? I'll never know. People tell me he must have known he was dying. If he knew, then why did he ask me? My poor sweet father always depended on me to know the medical information and the best course to take. I had helped save his life more than once before. I feel so guilty that I wasn't there when the hospital gave him two pneumonia vaccines . Why give vaccines to a patient who already had pneumonia? He had the heart attack later that evening. If I had been there maybe I would have asked them to wait until he recovers from his current pneumonia. They talked him into it -- it seems like they're always wanting to give vaccines! I thought he would be discharged soon like he had on previous hospitalizations. After his heart attack the doctor told me that his heart's ejection fraction of 15 percent could barely sustain life, but later I read that some people do survive it going that low and recover. I thought watching him die was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but now I realize that living without him is the hardest thing ever. My father lived with me for 55 years. He was 86, and I'm grateful for the time we had together, but I wish we had had more time, because it seems like the years just flew by. Watching him die only lasted 36 hours, but living without him will last the rest of my life. My cousins and aunts try to be supportive with phone calls when they have a chance. I realize that no one is going to miss him as much as I will, because I lived with him so long. Being his caregiver made me love him even more, because he needed me as much as I needed him. But it was heartbreaking to see my once strong and healthy father gradually decline. I know he wasn't happy that he couldn't do the things he used to do around the house. He liked to be useful and he always helped me in some way. It was sad that he couldn't enjoy his favorite foods anymore, because of the sodium restrictions. But we still had music, movies, books and conversation to enjoy together. Now I hardly get to enjoy these things anymore, because they remind me of my loss. People call me, and I'm grateful, but it's not as fun talking to them as it was talking with my father. I wish these same relatives had shown as much concern when my father was alive. I'm sorry to be so gloomy. I only mention these things to show that you are not alone in your feelings of guilt, regret and longing. But as others have said, there is no guilt where there is no intention. We would never have willingly harmed our loved ones. Fortunately, human beings are resilient and within us still burns the spark of life passed to us by our dear parents. Life is for the living, and joy will return, so I've been told. I'm still waiting. Some days are better than others.

Hi, Jame57, Thank you so much for your kind message. I'm sorry that you are going through some of the same difficulties. I don't think I've lost interest in my hobbies either. What depresses me is their association with happier times that are no more. Eventually, I should be able to go back to seeing the glass half full, instead of half empty, but it takes time. I'm almost afraid to do anything fun, because I'll regret that my dad won't be able to share my happiness with me. Yesterday I was looking at the beautiful roses blooming in the garden and thought how my dad would have loved seeing them. Even if he's viewing the most wondrous heavenly roses, I can't see him enjoy them. The therapists tell me I need to find happiness within myself. If that were possble, then solitary confinement would not be a punishment. I always felt that I could tolerate house arrest much better than most people, as long as my dad were with me. I kind of hope my dad is not with me, because I don't want him to see me crying so much. I have to cry, because it makes me feel better when it's over. If he can share my happiness, then he must share my sorrow, too. Since there is no grief, tears, or unhappiness in heaven (Revelation 21:4), then I suppose he can see how sad I am, but he knows that in the end we'll be together again, so everything is going to be ok. I can only hope. It's easier for me to believe that he is happy in heaven than for me to believe I'll be happy again on earth, mainly because society is going to hell in a handbasket.