Jump to content
Grief Healing Discussion Groups

Gfdez

Members
  • Posts

    4
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Previous Fields

  • Your relationship to the individual who died
    Son
  • Date of Death
    25 of may 2016
  • Name/Location of Hospice if they were involved:
    Caracas Venezuela

Profile Information

  • Your gender
    Male
  • Location (city, state)
    GLASGOW

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. I was just brushing my teeth getting ready to go to bed when I had this memory of when I was 6 years old. I managed to remember my dad's landline and I used to phone him randomly whenever I used to want to speak to him. It sent me in a spiral of negativity because well, I can't do that anymore. I feel like I have a bit of a panic attack but I am handling it, I just miss him a lot, so much it hurts my chest and my arms tingle. I scrolled through his Facebook to remember him and read the nice things that people said about him after his dead, some of them I think are quite insensitive, some of them are actually quite nice and soothing and it's great to see that there are people who saw beauty in my dad. I wanted to talk to my mum, or my brother but they weren't online, so I decided to get on this and post something to rant a little even though now I'm struggling with things to say. I'm just going to leave you with the start of a poem I'm working on, it is quite sad and dark, but I guess it should be. - My dad died drowning in a hospital bed My dad killed himself but he wanted to live My dad was born when I was twelve My dad died when I was fourteen My dad died drowning in a hospital bed He didn't shed blood except in my dreams He rode through the red carpet only to trip My dad died drowning in a hospital bed
  2. So I posted on this about 4 months ago, I am just updating on my emotional state and what has been happening in my life after my dad's death. Since he died I feel like I have grown a lot as a person, I have been gigging with my new band and I feel we are doing really well. I used to tell my dad that I was going to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame kind of as a joke. He had faith in me and my music career and had help me write a lot of my songs and short stories/poems. I wish he was around to see my band play, he never experienced me gigging. I also started running my own music night at the Gallery of Modern Art (which is a massive accomplishment for me, even if I don't get payed). I have joined a group of young artists to work on events and projects. I joined a poetry class and I keep getting good grades (even though my attendance isn't great due to feeling sad in the mornings, and sometimes I miss my deadlines). I feel like I am doing all this stuff that I never had the guts to do before, as if my dad's death drives me to do better, to do what I wanted him to see. On the other hand, I am drinking too much. I get drunk at least twice a week (properly drunk) but probably drink more than that. When I get home I start crying, or on the walk home, just missing my dad madly. I stopped smoking as much. But still smoke too much weed as well. My addiction levels I feel are getting higher, I feel like reality becomes a bit much sometimes. If I'm in the classroom, or busy filming or doing something active, I often catch myself drifting into sadness and start staring at the wall, thinking about some moment I'd spent with my dad. Being in his flat, watching movies together, listening to music together, reading books together, working on school projects. Since I hadn't spent that much time with him after I moved from my country, I feel like I have been robbed from a lot of memories I wanted to create. I feel like I lost so much time that I could have spent with him. For all this time away, as useful as it might have been, means nothing now that I cannot share my achievements with him. I miss my dad so much. His birthday went by, I made him an offering. A little paper boat filled with flowers that I set to float away on the river. I cried so much. I went to a restaurant after that. I laid all his stuff that I had at the other side of the table. His glasses, kindle, and drew an automatic drawing of him as well as I could remember him. I ordered food and pint and I pretended that I had this moment so spend with him on his birthday. Eating food he would have loved. I am dreading his death anniversary. I feel that my family are too far away and I have to go through this alone and I am really struggling. I am always sad. I am unfulfilled. My life feels empty no matter what I do, and only when I am drunk and dancing I feel a little bit better. I love him so much and it kills me not being able to speak to him again. He's dead. He's my dad and he's dead and I know this happens to everyone and I just have to get used to it. I just miss him and love him and wish that my dreams weren't the only method of communication I share with him. Here are some poems I wrote for him. Hopefully someone can find some comfort in them (the last one is my favourite). -- I want to go back to a time when you were around Sixties Rock and Roll. The Beatles, Rolling stones, “in my life I love you more” Bob Dylan Janis Joplin, Sabina in bed “It hurts so” you are “going, going, gone.” I want to go back to a time when you were around One room and two of us. A screen, a cinema. A shower, a Jacuzzi. A dining table, a lounge. One room and two of us. Wooden board; work of art One room and two of us. Wooden board; drums, guitar I want to go back to a time when you were around Again, Hung on The Cloud. My psychologist, My number one fan. Cynical but loving, dirty and proud. Again, Hung on The Cloud. I want to be in a time when you are around. I want to be in a time when you are around. Summer is ending dad. It’s getting colder. Who is distracting me from this grief? Friends? Family? I see them all dying: young ones, mother. Lover. I feel guilty when I look at my girlfriends' eyes. I feel she is getting tired. Because of how much she tries and how little it affects me. Her 'happy-go-lucky'; my sunglasses on a rainy day. Dad, I am wearing black and everyone stares. The dreams I used to share with you are now a necessity I want to sing 'Came So Far From Beauty' to an audience but my voice cracks. I am out of tune. My ambition cannot be stopped. I am tripping on the red carpet dad. I wish you could see how ridiculous it is. "Hold me" - I said. We walked along the field. It was hot; I got tired. I was young and he held me while I slept on his arms. My giant, hero of the holidays. Guided me through the tall grass. Scared the bees away. Put me back on my feet and I've been walking on my own ever since.
  3. Hey Kay, Thank you for your kind words. I'm okay for money just now, I'm studying and soon will get a different job but I think I need a bit of time because working as a chef can be super stressful. I will get a counsellor. Seems that they're the only people that can really know how to handle this. I write to my dad all the time, I send him messages through Facebook and keep him updated on everything I'm doing. I guess this is all been too soon, and it's going to affect me for longer than I think, three months feels like years though. I just need someone to talk to and once I get a counsellor things might look up. Thanks again.
  4. I guess I'm writing this to vent to people that have experienced similar things, as I feel everyone I talk to (including my mum) says inappropriate, insensitive clichés such as 'dont be sad', 'it's time to move on' and so on. I can see why people don't realise why these are not great things to say to someone who's grieving. I don't blame them; it is simply impossible for anyone to understand this sort of pain. It is a lonely process that I'll have to learn to deal with, but I will always feel sad about it. My dad died three months ago at the age of 57. I moved from Venezuela over to Scotland 8 years ago, it had been 5 years since I seen him. He had cancer, of which he didn't tell me about as a way to protect me, so as it might have not been unexpected for everyone, it was unexpected to me. He was my hero, my giant. The person I phoned at 3 am when I was drunk and sad and had no one to talk to, he never judged me for being an addict. I admired his analytical mind so much that he basically became my editor. Each of my projects was his work too, because nothing was finished until I thought he was pleased with it. Nothing I can write can really describe how much I love him and I could write a book about it. So needless to say, I've been unbelievable sad about his dead. I went back home for a month a day after he died and I saw his illness. It was very real. I saw all the medical gear that a terminal cancer patient has, photos of him skinny as he's never been -I remember I always told him that he needed to watch his weight, he was fat. I thought he could have had a heart attack. I wanted him to be healthy-, I read an essay he wrote about his disease where he explained that he couldn't even go to the toilet by himself. Before that I pictured my dad to be OK, not healthy, but not in the edge of dying. He always said that he was OK, every now.and then he mentioned his stomach was 'a little bit in pain', and that was it. I have no one I can talk about my projects, no one to calm me down like he used to. I'm scared I forget his voice, am I going to forget his voice? I don't have any recordings. I've been crying everyday for hours at the time. Me and my girlfriend are both worried about my mental health, I've quit my job (which I don't think it's a big deal but I did quit because I was too sad to work). My relationship with my dad was unique, he was my best friend, and now he's gone and I don't really know what to do. I keep myself busy writing, mostly about him, and doing what I love. But my daily life is gone to s***, I don't know what to do.
×
×
  • Create New...