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Grief Healing Discussion Groups

Hema

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Previous Fields

  • Your relationship to the individual who died
    daughter
  • Date of Death
    11/01/15
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:
    NA

Profile Information

  • Your gender
    Female
  • Location (city, state)
    Windsor Heights, IA
  1. I’ve encountered death two times in my life… The first one was my father-in-law (not by law, but may as well been). I’ve been with L for almost 9 years, and from the beginning his family accepted me as one of their own – treating me more like family than my own family normally does. We would go semi-frequently to stay at L’s childhood home in his hometown on the weekends. He was very close to both his parents. One November, four years ago, L was napping as I got ready for work. His cell phone rang, and, singing it was his brother, I woke him up and handed it to him. L’s dad had had a heart attack at work, but was still alive. We immediately drove to meet his family in the city where they’d life-flighted him to. Turns out he’d had the heart attack, and no one knew how long it was before someone found him. Long story short, they did what they could for him, but he was mentally gone and the plug was pulled. We all watched as he passed before our eyes, but he was already gone… And shortly before he was supposed to retire and travel the country on motorcycle with his wife, L’s mother. L was wrecked by this, and I wasn’t much better. I’d never encountered death up close before, so I had no learned ways to cope. I spiraled into a depression that I can’t even describe. There was… a lot of crying. I can’t even describe it, like I said. And then there’s the second encounter. L and I went to Indianapolis for Halloween, and for him to play some Magic: the Gathering. It was Sunday the 1st, and we were at the event hall as he sold some cards. My phone rang, and I saw it was my brother. “…Are you at work?” I felt my stomach drop, but asked “No. What’s up?” “Dad’s dead.” He sobbed this out. My father was 53 years old. He wasn’t supposed to die for a while yet! I haven’t even turned 30. Apparently, sometime between 1AM and the following morning, his heart had stopped. There’d been a history of drug abuse in his past, but he was relatively sober these days – especially compared to the past. He also had suffered the last few years from emphysema. He was always saying I never knew how long he’d been around. I didn’t know it until after, but apparently he had found out a year or so ago that he had Congestive Heart Failure. The doctor had wanted him to get surgery, but he said no. Truth be told, my father’s death was sad, but it wasn’t tragic… Growing up, I didn’t really see him. I was always taught by my mom that he was a horrible person – basically a monster. According to her, he had been an alcoholic who abused her. The alcoholic part – that was true. But what I found out years later, from multiple sources, was that my mother and him had abused each other. Doesn’t make it right, but it was a two-way thing. When I was around 21, he and I were able to reconcile and, over time, develop a bit of a relationship. For a long time, I didn’t say “I love you”… this man was a stranger, and I wasn’t going to say it til I genuinely felt it, and felt right saying it. He also wasn’t happy that I didn’t called him “Dad”, but I had my reasons for that which had nothing to do with him. But he was my father, and I loved him. He made no excuses for his past, wanted to make up for it as best he could, and was the best person he could be. The fact that he made no excuses… it meant so much to me. In the last few years, his mother (my grandma), his sister (my aunt), his nephew (my cousin) had all died. His brother had previously died, too. His dad was dead. He’d faced a lot of sadness, and he was at peace. He told a family member a month ago that he was ready to go. The thing that had meant most to him, especially since he came down with emphysema, was fixing the relationship with his kids. The only thing he really had left was seeing me get married… my biggest regret is that he won’t be there to walk me down the aisle. He was endlessly proud of me, of how I turned out, and I’m just heartbroken that he left so soon. The week after I found out, I took three bereavement days, came into work on Thursday, and took a sick day Friday. At work, I was barely functioning. It hurt so much to be there, and I couldn’t distract myself my normal ways since – you know – work. I’m a designer, building online ads. That Thursday, I went to my boss and told her I wouldn’t be doing more than 5 mandatory overtime hours a week (for context, my department has been on mandatory overtime, working anywhere from 5-15 mandatory overtime hours a week… this week was 16 hours mandatory with 8 of it having to be this weekend… yeah…). I’ve sobbed a few times in the bathroom stall. My productivity is way down. My supervisor hasn’t asked me once how I’m doing, or even discussed it with me at all beyond me telling her the overtime thing. Very little in way of support at work, and it hurts like hell to be here. The stupidest things make me cry right now… sometimes even nothing at all. And an intense apathy with a feeling of deep, almost numbed anger under it has set in. I last saw him on Memorial Day (he lived over two hours away, and with how much I work… you know). L and I were leaving for Vegas the next day, and needed to finish our preparations. Still, I thought it would be nice to spend it with my brother and dad… in fact, I think that’s the only time since I was tiny that the three of us had been together on any holiday. We hung out, my brother grilled, L and I introduced them to a couple of fine beer types they’d never had – a lambic and a sour. We had fun. We played Wii Sports and my father got cranky when my brother beat him. I had L take a photo of the three of us, as I thought it would be nice – that’s the only time since I was little that the three of us had been in a photo together. He was disappointed when it was time for us to go, but like I said, we had to finish preparations for a weeklong trip. I feel so guilty now about that, but I know I shouldn’t. I can’t believe he’ll never text or call me again. He’ll never hug me again. He’ll never walk me down the aisle. We’ll never eat Thanksgiving together. There’s so many “never agains” and “never wills” that I tear up just thinking about it. And my brother, he’s worse off. All he can think of is death lately, and he doesn’t want to talk. My brother and I –neither of us are religious. I’m a science-minded agnostic, but I like to say “I may not have faith, but I have hope.” Both of us just hope he didn’t disappear. If he’s still there, I hope/wish he’d just give one or both of us some sign to let us know he’s ok. Imagining that you disappear… it just makes every bit of life that’s not happy feel futile. I sometime miss when I was a religious little kid, “knowing” It hurts so much. The sadness. The disbelief. The apathy. All of it. I can’t bring myself to care about much else other than L and my brother right now. When at home, I’m normally playing two games at once while Netflixing with L to distract myself. I’m terrified of once these three weeks are up, since I know I have to go back to the standard overtime schedule and I’m already exhausted. …I know it’ll get better. But it just isn’t fair. It hurts. Sorry for the long read. PS: Anniversaries of L’s dad’s death and my father’s death are only a week apart. November sucks. TLDR; my dad died suddenly at 53 this month and I’m barely coping. I’ve lost all father figures in my life.
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