Clematis

Marty, that totally makes sense to me. As you know, I am new to the site. When I posted my earlier comment I had not even realized that there was instant messaging available, and that is a really nice feature. I think what Mitch was getting at, and I see his point, is that it might be nice at times to be able to get hold of someone when you have one of those moments when you suddenly feel like the floor has totally dropped out from under you. But maybe there is a way to do that...some way to tell who is online that you could reach out to, maybe someone that you have had contact with before...? Maybe there is and I just haven't figured it out yet. Anyway, I think your site is marvelously well done, and I am certain that it is due to your monitoring. I was talking to my grief counselor (from hospice) and was telling him that I had found your site. He was interested-because he is always looking for resources for people, but dubious-because it is well known how things can spin out of control online and end up hurting people. I told him that it was monitored by a certified professional grief counselor, and that from what I could see, the monitoring was being very well done. I think you're doing a great job, and it's a wonderful resource.

One go the good things about school is that you have a break coming up, and that will be helpful. I work in the schools and so I have the same thing. As a school Psychologist I have two reports I need to complete and they need to be done right. It is REALLY hard to focus. I am working on them at the times I feel like I can be productive, and I have asked a colleague/friend to proof-read these two before I submit them, which I have never done. You may need to fine/use resources, tools, and accommodations at your school that you don't usually need. People understand and will help you...

That's good that you're staying in school, although it's totally understandable that it's been difficult and has triggered a lot. Sometimes one just has to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and sometimes I think it's helpful to stay busy. I work as a school counselor and school psychologist, and so I am continually surrounded by other people's grief, losses, and other trauma. My dad died early on a Wednesday morning and I was supposed to lead a meeting that afternoon that had been really hard to schedule. It was an hour from where I live and I was more than a little scattered. I certainly thought about skipping it, and when I apologized for being five minutes late and what happened, the teachers, parent, and administrator said, more or less in unison, "Why are you even here?" I explained that I thought it best to be busy, and also that it would be hard to reschedule the meeting again. I had some trouble keeping things straight and the special ed teacher several times helped me with little bits, but it was ok. Not my bees-lead meeting ever, but people understood. I'm sure the same is true for you as well-that the people at your school understand that you are struggling and that they give you a lot of credit for doing your best to stay on track. I think it inspires others to see someone move courageously when things are hard. Hang in there-you probably have more support than you would ever even imagine!

I work as a school counselor at a reservation school. Because the tribe is so small and intermingled, they like having counselors who are outsiders (white) because confidentiality seems more likely. I am and feel very much like an outsider, much as I love the community, children and staff. I am moved by the multiple traumas many of these children-and adults-have been through and I strive to do my best and give the most of myself and everything I have to offer to them all every day. Nevertheless, it is clear that I am an outsider, and that can be difficult. It makes my being alone in my personal life more so because of the professional isolation. Every day I work at this school, I haul my cello on my back, carry at least two ukuleles, my lunch and snacks, and a heavy duty luggage cart full of art materials and other things that might be helpful, and struggle through the heavy doors into she school. The automatic (handicap) buttons seldom work) It is like an athletic event to get it all through the heavy doors without letting the doors hit (and possibly damage the cello on my back. They watch me struggle and do nothing- men, women, and lines of children going from here to there. Sometimes someone even just lets the door close in my face and walks away. Personally I feel that anyone who is more able should hold the door for anyone who is struggling, regardless of gender or age, but that is my own belief and II don't want to cause problems; I am an outsider, and so I just struggle with the doors. My dad died three months ago and my beloved aunt followed him a month ago. I live alone with my cat, and my sisters across the country have been really icky to me during this. They were not attached to my dad, and I am the executor. They would like me to hurry it up without spending too much money so they can get as much as possible as soon as possible. I have been staggering under this load alone, and it is impossible for me to look like everything is ok, partly because I am a straightforward, honest, open and direct person. It's just who I am. Sometimes it's not good, but generally people appreciate that they can see me for who I am and trust me. So, here I am at work, with the dogmas of mental health workers and workers in general hanging over my head. "You're not supposed to bring your problems to work-leave them at home" and " don't talk to clients about your personal issues". But I am me. I told lots of the staff about my dad and then my aunt. I talked to the students with whom I work about it, and used it to encourage them to talk about their losses. It has been remarkable how much the children I work with have opened up, and also the adults who have talked to me about their own losses and what they had been through. And then...gradually I've found that people have started running over to open the door for me!

That sounds like a good idea to me...

Hello Daughter, I am so sorry to hear about your losing your mom and the anguish that has followed in the past months. I lost my dad about three months ago and my path has been similar to what you describe. For the first month I was paralyzed and did little, aside from the things I had to do that were right in front of my face. For the next two months, I have been like you-on a roller coaster ride of emotion that frequently catches me by surprise. I am about twice your age and am really impressed by your insight and self-awareness. It seems to me that you are handling things very well, even though I'm sure that to you things probably seem very much out of control. From what you say, it sounds like you are very much like your mom and share many of her qualities and passions in life. Another way of saying that is that she does and will continue to live on in you, just by your being you and living your life. People will know her, even if they don't know it, by knowing you. The same is true with me and my dad; I am so much like him and he was my strength and hero. He does live on in me, but I am not at a point where I can really appreciate that. I, like you, am too busy swimming in the river of grief to think that's really great. I feel like I want to tantrum like a small child, kick my feet and scream, "I don't want him inside me and living through me-I want him outside me and alive where I can talk to him!" But the daily agony is that he is not coming back...it's tough...

Thank you, George, and Shalom to you too! I was totally not expecting that losing my role as caregiver would have any impact on my identity or how I saw my purpose and function in life. Looking back on it, I wonder how I could possibly have had so little insight because almost everyone I knew would greet me, "Hi! How's your dad?" I knew I would miss him, but I had no idea how much I would miss him or the multi-facetedness of the loss. Not only did I care for him in the end, I really identified with him throughout my life. He was my hero and the person I drew inspiration and strength from, without even realizing it. This last, in the end was probably mutual-the drawing strength and inspiration. I have lost a huge piece of myself . I feel exhausted and flattened much of the time and I was not expecting that. I actually thought that I would have more time and energy-not less. Grief is exhausting, and I'm not even sure why. I guess it's because there is always a huge undercurrent of emotion and thoughts running beneath everything one is doing...

I know what you mean-my dad also withheld a lot from me about his health and how he was doing. Early on, when I coaxed him from PA to AZ in 2006, my sisters knew that he had Parkinsons Disease (and was an alcoholic); I think that's part of why they were so happy I wanted to take him on. He had to have known as well, but acted (a little) surprised when I took him to a neurologist who gave him the diagnosis (again) in 2007. My sisters told me that they knew this all along, when they came out for his memorial a month ago. But it's not my fault-they all knew and kept it from me. It's not your fault that you were missing a lot of information about your dad. I think a lot of men are good at toughing it out and trying to look strong--especially for their daughters. As my dad went downhill there were a lot of things he never told me; I figured out a lot of things after he died, now that I am living in his house going through his things and affairs. A lot of these things I could helped him with, but he never told me. For example, he had people selling him supplements and drawing a lot of money out his account every month. I found a huge pile of these bottles. He couldn't swallow the pills, but couldn't figure out how to get it stopped. I used to really push my dad-to exercise, move around more, get out of the house, eat more, eat something other than pudding. I would tell him that people were always telling me that I should "leave him alone-let him rest-he's an old man". This went on for ten years, and I would wonder if maybe they were right. So I would ask him if I was being mean to him to push him and want him to believe my belief that he could get stronger. He always had the same answer, "No, keep pushing me-it's the only thing that keeps me going!" My sisters on the other hand, weren't having any qualms about what was right or wrong or too much. They weren't around. They didn't make mistakes or have regrets because they didn't do anything. And although he never said anything about it, how could he not know? He knew that I loved him whether I was begging, beseeching, yelling at him, or threatening him with what the consequences would be if he didn't do...whatever. But he was going downhill and couldn't tell me. I think it was just more than he could do-to tell me that he was barely hanging on. I think, like you, that he had to have known more than he said at the end. I didn't know and he didn't want me to know. I felt badly that I wasn't with him when he died, but I think that's what he wanted, since he died shortly after I left, and never spoke a word with anyone after I left that last day. I felt badly at first that I didn't say goodbye to him, but then realized that I was really saying goodbye for the ten years that I took care of him. Sharirouse, had you not loved your dad, you wouldn't have been there trying whatever you could think of...and he had to have known that you cared.

Hello Marty, It's good to see you back and I hope your connection difficulties are over soon. It is very nice of your sister to help you, and by helping you to help all of us. I am new to the site during your absence and am very impressed with the compassion and thoughtfulness I have seen all throughout the site. It is a credit to you as well as the members.

I lost a close friend when I was 24; he was hit on his bicycle and died immediately, while the driver fled. I felt ripped apart and couldn't stop crying. I remember my mother saying, "I know it sounds trite, but time really does help". She was right, but how much time? I think it varies so much. That pain was more intense and brief. Also, I lived with a boyfriend and was surrounded with a group of friends; we all lost him and grieved together. Losing my dad much later in life when I am alone is much different. I have talked to a lot of people since my dad died who really seem to understand what I am going through. But I have had people tell me that they lost their dad (or mom) ten years ago, and that they still miss him every day. But I think it changes over time. These people who lost a parent ten years ago don't seem to be staggering around in a fog unable to cope. I had three weeks of dreaming all night every night of things I could do to help my dad, only to wake up to the devastation that it was too late. One day that stopped. I lost credit cards, my keys, and everything else constantly for about two months. I also fell a lot, but now the falling and losing stuff is better. I still wake up every day and don't want to get out of bed, but I imagine that will get better eventually, even though I can't imagine how. I have a grief counselor through Hospice and he has been very helpful.

I wish I did have some ideas. I really do feel lost. This morning I awoke from a dream that he came back and I was so glad I was still here and everything was still the same for him at his house. I started sleeping in the daybed in his second bedroom and haven't left. When my mother died 11 years ago, he used to say that he couldn't understand how it could be that she was gone and he was still here. He would say that he couldn't stay among the living with no purpose and that was gone. He said he needed to find a new purpose in loving. One day he said he had found his new purpose and it was me-his new purpose in living would be to be there for me. Over the years, without my realizing it I think my purpose became being there for him and keeping him alive and happy. So, here I am and he is gone. And where is my strength and purpose? I have no idea. On days I have to go to work I just go do it, but on other days it's hard to get out of bed and make myself do anything. Lena, my cat, helps. She keeps telling me that if I would just feed the cat everything would be better. She makes me remember that I have to brush her more since it's spring and she's losing her winter coat. I can do that-take care of Lena, but it's so hard to do anything that's not right in my face making me do it. I think it is a lot harder being alone. I was at orchestra rehearsal last night (I play cello) and a bass player friend told me I should do four things every day that were to make me feel good. I really can't think of any, other than spending time with Lena. It's too bad this friend and I can't find a way to be there for each other, but she lives an hour away, is really busy, and her situation is that her life partner is going downhill with Alzheimer's. I think exercise is helpful and is known to be as powerful as an antidepressant. In the beginning I continued to go to my water aerobics class that I used to love, but when my aunt died a week after my dad's memorial service, I stopped going. A friend from Tucson told me I should be going out on the trails in Sedona, because it is so beautiful here, but I don't seem to be able to do it. How are you managing to get through your days?

KayC, thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful response to my post. Yes, I'll have ten weeks off in the summer and I have found some people (not my sisters) who can help me. During the last years of my father's life I spent more and more time with him and was mostly running in and out of my own house - and sleeping there. Both of our houses came to resemble train wrecks, mine because I was taking care of him and his because he was too weak to take care of his house. He had also brought tons of stuff out west that he never even went through. At some point, I boxed him into getting a housekeeper and about half of his house became very livable (and the other part a big mess). My house is mostly a big mess. So I am living in his condo and am working on getting mine cleared out. He had nice things and nice furniture, and my furniture is nothing great, so I want to move back into my house and bring his things with me. Meanwhile, I feel closer to him in his house. But I really need to clean out both condos; the prospect is overwhelming, My mother was in early dementia when she died-I think she had PICS; she would have been a nightmare had she been the one who lived longer. Taking care of my father was hard on me in some ways. I spent my time with him rather than developing a social network where I now live, cleaning my house, and a lot of other things. But I never regretted a second of it. I felt like it was like a fairytale ending for both of us to have such a good relationship at the end of his life. People who knew us would tell him he was a lucky man and he would get all choked up and say, "Oh, she's wonderful!" It was wonderful for me to have such a supporter and friend. But now he's gone, and feel like I'm not sure who I even am. I feel like I've lost what gave me my strength. I really do feel lost and floundering. I'm tired all the time, and I used to seldom feel tired no matter what I did. But I think truthfully I was exhausted by the time he died and then the hard stuff really started. Good thing I have Lena, my cat! She is really amazing. She and I visit a retirement home, and now also a SNF where hospice sent him for five days respite (for me). Daddy always used to say to Lena when we'd leave his house after dinner, "Take care of my girl", and she has. She takes care of me and all those other people. I've kept up my volunteer work with Lena during all of this, because I think those people would really miss her if I napped on Sunday afternoons instead...

I think when you have two losses close together, it really compounds things. My aunt died two months after my father, and it made everything worse. She was my mother's sister and always so kind and loving to us. At some point in grieving my dad, I had a revelation one day that my sweet aunt was still alive even though my parents were both gone and I suddenly felt a burst of relief. But then, all of a sudden, my aunt was gone as well. Multiple losses are really tough...

My dad died three months ago and I miss him terribly. I feel lost and alone most of the time and it’s hard to believe that I’ll ever get through this. I have two sisters and when we were growing up, my parents were both pretty awful. My mother was very narcissistic and my dad was like a silent satellite around her, while she pitted my sisters and I against each other. My sisters lived about an hour away from my parents, while I moved out west to get away from the craziness and was doing ok. I had good support and time to recover and sort things out between visits. Eleven years ago my mother died-at 75- and I moved from Tucson to a small town, coincidentally the same year (away from my friends). I was astonished at the change in my father. He started really talking and I saw that without her he was a really nice guy. I wanted to have the chance to get to know him better and so I started trying to coax him to move out west. He really had to leave the split-level house where he had lived with my mother, due to Parkinson’s Disease, drinking, and falling on all those stairs. I had no competition from my sisters; I told him he would have a lot more fun in Arizona with me, and my sisters told him that if he moved near them he would still see very little of them and his five grandchildren. So he bought a condo very near mine, and both resolved to put the past behind us with a clean slate. We became the best of friends over the next ten years, and I was proud to have family near me and be able to finally introduce my friends to my dad, who all said, “Oh I love your dad-he’s such a sweet man!” In the beginning he was slow but able to be rather active, and we did have tons of fun together, but he gradually declined in spite of all of our efforts. Since I had coaxed him away from his home I vowed to do absolutely anything I could for him as long as he lived, no matter how bad it got. He was adamant about living at home, and I backed him up. I gradually got him more services so he could stay there. I could get in my car and be at his house in a minute and a half, so I was able to see him a lot-usually at least once a day. But now he is gone, and I feel flattened most of the time. I feel like I have lost my entire family because my sisters have become rather nasty to me. We were closer while my dad was alive, probably in some part because I would push him to send them money when they were having problems. But I think the person they lost is not the same father they lost. I am grief-stricken and they seem mystified as to why I am in such distress. I work, and they really don’t. I have this gargantuan task of combining my father’s and my possessions into one condo-and probably selling his, and I won’t really have much time until summer break when I’m not working. I have been chipping away at it when I can. They think I should hurry it up and get on with it faster because that would get them more money in the end, but there is a limit to how much I can push myself.