Clematis

Thank you! You are right-I loved Mitten and it was painful to lose her. But to think I would never again be able to live with a cat was agonizing...If I learned anything at all from 15 years of pet-deprivation it is to not ever take any of my shared life with a pet for granted. Chances are that I will outlive Lena, but I will cherish her for every day we have together, and I hope there ore thousands of those days. If Lena is followed by another fur ball, I will do the same when he or she comes along. But Lena is only 5, and lots of cats, particularly of her breed (American Shorthair-and a black one), live to be 20 or so...

And here I am, squandering it...

I am so sorry that this has happened to you and your family-it is terrible and a huge loss. It is also really new-grieving ls a long and difficult road and two months is very little time. I think it's really helpful to have a grief counselor all along the way. At different points along the journey, you may need different kinds of help, but I think that at every point you'll need all the support you can get. A grief counselor is really helpful because it's a specialized area; it's not general counseling. This forum is also very helpful to many of us, because even though we aren't professionals we are in our own ways on the same path, and the companionship can be soothing and comforting. For me- and I don't think this is unusual-in the beginning of grieving there were a lot of people around me who were eager to talk and listen and wanted to know how I was, but that sort of thinned out and I still really needed more support and ability to talk about what I was going through than my friends and sisters were willing to tolerate. (We all lost our dad but I was taking care of him and they had been on the other side of the country for the years and had a very different experience than I. Also, although the grief counselor has been extraordinarily helpful, that is only about an hour a week. It is really nice to come on here and find people who are willing and eager to listen and offer any help that we can. I hope you keep coming back here. -Laura

One of the things that has always kept me going has been the next goal--the next adventure--and preparing myself for whatever it was. I think this is something I've had in common with my dad. He said that moving out west after my mother died was his "last big adventure". I have four degrees and have had lots and lots of jobs of all kinds. When I set out to be a school psychologist, I announced to my supervisor-who had gotten to know me and my restless nature rather well-that I was going to just settle into my new job in Sedona and stay there until I retired! He grimaced and said, "I give you five years" ...before moving on to something else. But then my dad came out, the real estate market tanked, my dad's health declined, my position was eliminated, I got very involved in caring for my dad, and when I started doing in my fieldI was so relieved I figured I'd just do it until I was too old to get out of a chair. Taking care of him and then grieving him has taken me away from being the athletic and fit person I have been all my life. Liberal consumption of Lucky Charms, Mac&Cheese, and ice cream for the last four months have done no favors for my figure or my fitness level. I guess I keep thinking I should get a will made because I may not even live long enough to settle my dad's estate. I may not outlive the cat. Why? Because I don't care enough? Who am I and how is it that the me that was so driven all those years just disappeared? I'm thinking that this is a huge adjustment and although I do have this big job ahead of me in consolidating/moving back to my house/estate settling, it's not like I've been doing nothing. I'm painting again, nurturing my flowers, and my response to feeling so mopey and uncreative in ceramics class was to delve into inorganic chemistry and spend the semester experimenting with glaze elements. And I have learned a lot. When the teacher quizzes the class and has some question about chemistry, he looks around the room and his gaze settles on me, and out it comes! But still, I keep thinking I'm going to just go downhill, gain more weight, and so on until I retire, at which time I will-what? follow my dad? But he was 27 years older than I-what am I thinking? Or am I even thinking? Uh-maybe not. Maybe I'm just exhausted from grieving and not actually half-dead, and I am still me. So, I had this big revelation today at the career fair at the school where I am working. There was a guy there from the National Park Service, with his tan uniform and one of those awesome park ranger hats. I've always felt like this was my missed career that I never got to have. I always wished I could be a ranger and wear one of those hats. So he was telling me about how the NPS hires a lot of retired people for seasonal work, which is 4-6 months a year. That would be perfect! I could do maybe five more years at what I am doing and do a step-down-partial retirement and go from working 9 months a year to working 4-6 months a year. It would give me some incentive to really get back into shape again-to be a seasonal ranger. And then I would get to wear one of those hats! That's something to get up in the morning for! This is really starting to sound like my dad. I remember him saying when he was in his 50's that when he was of retirement age he didn't want to retire. He planned to dye his hair and just start a new career. I believe that if it weren't for the Parkinson's slowing him down, he would have. I don't have Parkinson's or anything else except what goes along with gaining weight that you can eliminate if you lose the weight. And I have a perfect background for it--I just have get up and start moving. Well, maybe tomorrow. First I have to get some sleep...

The worst grief I ever felt from the loss of a pet was Mitten, a tuxedo cat with a little white triangle on her cheek-I loved that cat! But my allergies and asthma were betting worse and worse in spite of taking more and more medication, including steroids. I tried everything, including wiping her with Aller-Pet-C to reduce the dander and installing a screen door on my bedroom so that the air could still flow through my apartment, but she couldn't sleep on my bed, at night or during the day. I was faced with either ruining my health and bones or allowing Mitten to go ago another home. Mitten ended up with a family with two little girls; they were all grieving their cat Mittens, who had a very similar look and temperament to Mitten, and they were thrilled to get her. Good for Mitten, but devastating for me. I not only lost her but was sure that I would never again have a pet. I didn't for 15 years! But then I had years of allergy shots, reduction of stress, a move from a very polluted area to a new home with clean air, and here I am with Lena. I still have a tiny bit of allergy, but we've been living comfortably together for 3-1/2 years now. When I had had her long enough to be sure I was going to be able to actually keep her-and be ok-I was so ecstatic I wanted to share her with the world, and so I have-she became a therapy cat and visits people who love cats but can't have one due to where they live. It's cool to be able to share her with some catless cat-lovers.

I was manning the school counselor table at Career Day on the reservation today and a little girl was telling me how sad she was that her cat had just died. I was feeling sad and bracing myself to hear about what horrific thing had happened to this poor kitty. But she said it was old age, and I thought that was wonderful that a cat out there had the opportunity to live so long out there. Nice to hear about a treasured pet in a place where pets seem disposable and easily replaceable. Having a strong bond with a pet is a wonderful thing.

I love this description of the Grand Marquis...wallowing at sea through the swells. I used to go rafting in the Grand Canyon, and those boats I think are like what you describe. Heavy with a lot of weight down in the water/current. Kind of slow to turn, but once you got it going where you wanted, it would really blast through big waves with a lot of power. Maybe that's the way to think about driving it. In a way I love having this old family car, but it drives so differently than my little Corolla. I think I need to adjust to it--maybe drive it more so Bob and I get better acquainted. What do you think?

I have felt this as well in losing my dad. Even though he was obviously leaning/depending on me as well as deferring to me, in my heart he was still that strong guy-my clever dad-the guy who knew everything and could fix anything, and rescue me if I needed it .It's really hard to lose your safety net and your source of strength, even if some of that is more of a memory than a current or recent reality.

We had career day at at the school on the reservation today and I was representing the field of school counselor. Everybody likes it, of course when you give something away but I've always been stumped by this. I don't want to give them some meaningless piece of junk that cost a nickel or something. So this year I printed out the sheets with the classic art therapy exercise Draw a Person, Draw a House, Draw a Tree. I saw a few students after career day was over and drew along with my last student. Sometimes they feel less self-conscious if I draw too. Here is my drawing. The person is my dad, the house is my own house – that I'm not living in – my hearts eye view of it as I hope it will feel to me in the future, and draw a tree – Part of me is still stuck in winter.

On the other hand, when I am looking at things more objectively (and listen to people outside myself who are even more objective observers of me than I am), I can see that things are getting better. A friend pointed out that I seem "more grounded" and that when I work on things, I actually get something done. I am no longer losing things constantly. It has been over two months since my encounter with the guard rail. It is a good thing that I reacted quickly enough to miss the head-on collision, but I think that if that were to happen today I would be more likely to be able to slip my little car in between the approaching car and the guard rail without hitting either. I'm less likely to overreact now. A couple of months ago, I was driving out of town on a curve that is way too curvy for the posted speed; I know it's a dangerous and I always try to be extra cautious going downhill there. I wasn't talking on the phone or going too fast, but I lost focus and the car went barely over onto the shoulder, which is noisy by design. When I heard that sound I jumped and over corrected, and then overcorrected back the other way and was swishing back and forth all over the road.Fortunately, no other cars were close to me. It really scared me because I know that's exactly how it happens that people end up rolling their cars down that hill. I slowed down, straightened it out, and at the first opportunity turned the car around and went home. Whatever I wanted from Home Depot could wait. I think if that were to happen today I wouldn't have reacted like I did a few months ago. I think it's getting better.

I think that "not caring" thing is key. In February I was driving up the switchbacks on the way to work. There had been a storm 2 days before, the next day a lot of it melted and then froze overnight on the road. So suddenly there I was driving up the hill, and a car came sliding down around the corner way too fast-on my side of the road! Fortunately it was a wide spot in the road and so I avoided the head-on collision. The other driver, who was at fault, split. My car skidded a bit and planted herself in the guardrail at one corner of the bumper, I sat there and thought, "My life is over". Then I noticed that the radio was still running and so was the engine. I backed it up (went ok) and drove to the top of the switchbacks, and got out to look it over. Looked ok except for the big ding in the bumper. So I got in and drove to work. I've noticed some creaking noises since then, but have just ignored it. I just didn't care enough to so anything. I pay for collision insurance on this car that would have covered it, but I didn't care enough to do anything. The car has 288,000 miles on it. Maybe that was an ok thing to do, but I don't know. Of course if my dad had been here, I would have asked him. But he's not. I don't care about the car, or if I eat Lucky Charms twice a day, if I get any exercise or...on and on and on. What do I care about? Lena. I care about my cat. Also, I have this little idea in the back of my mind that I may be ok again some day and so I try to keep the rubber side down when I drive, and hopefully things won't go too far afield in the meanwhile...

Sometimes I think it's hard to tell which is worse once a person is at an advanced age, having their minds or bodies go first. My mother died of a train wreck of pneumonia related complications, but she already had more than the very start of an aggressive form of dementia. Had she stayed physically healthy for another five or more years, she would have ended up in some memory unit-it would have been lots worse than what happened. My dad and I thought he did have another five years ahead of him and I am grieved that he didn't get them. People offered me platitudes like "Well, he lived a long life"; in my mind and sometimes out of my mouth my reaction was, "But it wasn't enough! We got ripped off!" Nevertheless, when I am thinking realistically about what was likely to have happened if he had another five years, it doesn't seem good. That end would have been a lot worse than the one he did have. He had "moderate dementia" and some other issues related to the Parkinson's. I kept thinking he could get stronger-maybe that was totally wishful thinking. He really really wanted to live at home until the end-he absolutely did not want to live in assisted living. He got what he wanted, which was to live at home until the end and then die in his sleep in bed. It may be that he had more to do with going out the way he wanted-just like he lived the way he wanted-than any influence I had over it. I believe he gave up when he realized that his days of living at home were numbered, and he didn't last long after that. Also, I think he died shortly after my visiting like he was waiting for me to leave and then just checked out. It's just so awful for us-the survivors. We fervently wish that we had had more time and that it could have been better. It is all hell...and I am so sorry that you are so much in the midst of it.

Marg-I am so sorry to hear all that-it really sounds like you are going through hell...all that with your mom while you are still deep in grief over Billy. I sure wish there was something more I could do. Hang in there, take it easy on yourself and keep us posted, ok? -Laura

I am so sorry to hear of your mom's passing. It's so hard to suddenly go from the activity and anxiety of caregiving into the free fall numbness when they go. I thing my dad waited until I left, and that seems to happen a lot. Please be very careful and take care of yourself. In the very beginning you have to pay close attention to taking care of yourself, especially when you are walking, driving, etc. Make sure to eat and drink and sleep and all of those things. It's so easy in the beginning to fall, lose things, etc. because you may not be paying as much attention as you think. I'm glad you and your dad have each other. Keep us posted and remember we're here for you...

To Marg and Ana and anyone else who cares about mascara, the trick is to not wear black. I'm not sure why, but I've found that if you wear a little blue or green or purple (I use Almay), it works better. When you start crying, the mascara gradually disappears without the "panda" effect. I also found that Burt's Bees Lip Shimmer (I like the Rhubarb) is inexpensive, is almost everywhere, and it, like the mascara, it doesn't make a mess; it just disappears. I keep wearing some makeup-especially at work-because when I wear nothing, people keep asking me things like, "You look different-did you cut your hair?" Me: "No, I'm not wearing makeup" Them: "No, i don't think it's that; it's something else." But I don't want to get into explaining myself or any of this. I'm just trying to get through each day without totally screwing things up. So I've just chosen to wear some stuff that I can count on to not end up all over my face. And then I just put it back on. Sometimes it's still on at the end of the day-hooray! In the Jewish tradition, one covers up all the mirrors in the house of mourning for seven days. I thought about it when my dad died, but didn't do it. No one was coming to sit Shiva with me, and there would be no services within the house. I did, however wish all the mirrors within about a hundred miles could be covered up...Alas, this is not the case...

Marg, I don't thing you've taken over the topic or that you're out of place...it seems to me that we're talking about the commonality we share in our loss of a significant person, regardless who that is. Having that person gone rips an enormous hole in the fabric of our lives and the relationships in our lives. It changes everything when you have a huge loss, including-if not especially-how you fit into the social and familial framework around you.

Oh Joyce, that is a wonderful memory! Dale sounds like he had a great sense of humor. Something about ir makes me think about my dad and how funny he could be; I got all teary when I read your post. I'm not sure he would have worn a red nose-he never lost that "Philadelphia lawyer" look (he did patent law), but had he been in a doctor's office and seen Dale with his red nose, he would have loved it and never stopped talking about it. I think he would have liked Dale. Over the time I cared for my dad he became a huge part of the structure of my life-and also of my life. I feel really lost without him and things that remind me of him make me cry-or nearly so. There have been a few times that some memory has made me feel-wistful more than crushed with grief. Maybe wistful is closer to a smile and is progress. Anyway, I have seen the red noses at Walgreens, and will think of Dale when I see them. Hang in there! -Laura

That's an interesting comment. I really enjoy the company of my cat, and my dad was not really much more demanding than Lena. But he was so important to me-more and more so over the years. He became so much a part of the structure of my life that he actually became part of me-and that was ripped out. I miss his constancy, like a landscape. If you live near the ocean or a mountain, it is always there, night or day. There is a mountain near where I live-just north-if it were gone tomorrow when I got up I can't imagine the devastation. I'm not sure I could stay here and ever recover.

You are probably right.

When my dad was alive (G-d, I hate saying that!), anyway we used to like to go listen to music-the music that was popular when he was growing up and young. I loved it too because I grew up with him listening to it and playing it. So we'd go to a restaurant where a guy played and sang those old songs and then we went on some cruises where there was a guy in one of the bars playing and singing those old songs. We'd sit up close where we had a good view and my dad would sit there and cry and cry and cry. You could see the musician getting a little nervous, and he'd come over and chat with us in between sets...he wanted to know if he was doing something wrong or if he should avoid certain songs. No, no, those were his favorites. So these musicians got to know him and what his favorites were, he'd always play those tunes, and we all just got used to it. The guy would sing, my dad would cry, we would eat or drink or whatever we were doing, and then give the guy a big tip on the way out. Now it's all over but it's kind of a cool memory. He never offered a word in the way of explanation to me about any of it. He just cried and it was ok.

Thank you Karen, that is very sweet! I used to live in Tucson and had friends there. My mother died in 2005 and I graduated from grad school just a few weeks before. I was eager to get out of the big, hot city with all its pollution and crime, and so moved to Sedona. The first year I was learning my new career, was terrified of losing my job, and the small town gossip made me nervous. So I took up the violin, even tho I had minimal lessons. I'd go to the library and check out armloads of songbooks and play them all one after another. I got to be good at sight reading, although not good at the violin, but it kept my mind off worrying after work so I could relax and sleep. Then in 2006 I coaxed my dad out to AZ from PA, and everything was good. Neither of us really had any friends, so it was pretty easy to just fall into doing everything together. I tried to get him to do stuff with people from the Senior Center and the Elks Club, but he wouldn't go unless I went with him. And the more time I spent with him, the less time I had to develop relationships with other people. I play in three musical groups and so I know some people, but we don't really spend time together-people just go hoe to their families after rehearsals, and none of them live in the same town I do-all of them live at least a half an hour away... So, what did you do to adapt to being alone?

Tuna Boats? What does that mean? Same as a big ole boat?

So true-I haven't had anything that bad, but several falls, one of which has really given me problems- I'm seeing an OT. Oh yeah, and I was losing weight, as directed to by my doctor, but all the ice cream, mac&cheese and Lucky Charms I have eaten in the last four months have not done me any favors on that scene, especially combined with the lack of exercise. If I could just get back to taking care of myself...somehow that got lost in the midst of taking care of my dad, know what I mean?

It's been four months since I lost my best friend and constant companion-my dad. He had been going downhill from Parkinson's for more than the ten years that I looked after him and eventually cared for him quite a bit. I have really lost my whole family at this point, and am quite alone. So it's been four months and I am no longer falling, running over stuff with the car, and losing my credit/debit cards/purse/keys constantly. But I am still crying, and having this experience where I'm not sure if I'm crying, having allergies from spring pollen, still crying, or all of the above. I keep mascara in my purse now all the time in case I start leaking again