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I find that "letting it out" does help. Unfortunately for me, just for a while. Having been the sole caregiver to my grandmother, (a job that I am lost without), I feel alone. I too am Catholic and agree that this sucks such big time. My pastor keeps telling me that "tears are a stairway to healing". After seven months I still cry like a baby. I have come to the conclusion that for those who do not like for me to talk about her, or who pull away from me, do not need to be close to me in the first place. Selfish? You bet. This is a very selfish experience I am going through. It is all about me healing, or at least trying to heal after the most devastating loss of my life. I honestly don't give a damn anymore what people think. 29 days, My God, it hasn't even been a month. Just vent, vent, vent. Cry when you need to and laugh when you want to. I hope this helps.

It's been over seven months since my Grandmother died in my arms, but yet it feels like yesterday. I too have thought about joining her. Not really in a "I want to kill myself" aspect, but just be with her again. Why is it that this is so hard? I find after seven months, I hit waves. Periods of when I want to talk about her, and periods when I relive the horrific suffering she went through. I've been seeing a psychiatrist, counselor, and bereavement group, put on med's, but still cannot stop thinking about her constantly. I would give anything to have her back, though I know that is impossible. I too have fought with God, and many other people. My conscience is clear because I was lucky enough to say everything I needed to her, but why do I still feel guilty? I think emptiness is the best word to describe my feelings, or lack thereof. My concentration is lost, I could care less about taking care of myself, or what I eat. Sometimes I just start to cry like a baby and cannot stop, yet I feel as though I am not healing. This is the worst pain I have ever known.

Thank you Marty for that wonderful statement. Peace is what I seem to be endlessly searching for. Emotions, emotions. Good days, bad days. Happy days, (shame on me), then sad days for being happy. Grave visits, covered in dirt planting pointsettias instead of giving Grandma one. Wanting to curl up in a ball in front of her tombstone and wish her back with all my might. Powerlessness, not a good thing to have to suck up to when grieving. My one wish this time of year is that more people would reply to our posts. Just open up. I think we are all in the same boat. I know it makes me feel better to write down how I feel and know that if not anywhere else, here I will not be criticized, told to get over it, don't cry, you're nuts, whatever. May the holidays remind us that we are just one closer to being with our loved one, eternally.

I can realte with my own husband. Just yesterday I packed his bags and sent him to my mother's because they are all in the same "get over it, move on, she's dead" boat. My therapist was proud of me. NO ONE can tell you how to feel, when to feel or why to feel. It just happens. The misunderstanding, and down right cruelness of people baffles me, it truly does. Are you going nuts? No. I thought I was too. Was even hospitalized because I told my psychiatrist I "wanted to be with my grandmother"............10 minutes later an ambulance was there to take me away. Even doctors don't get it. Some days are better than others. Forgetfulness is an understatement. Headaches, nausea, overeating one day, no eating the other. Even a lack of interest in my own child, housework, you name it. I went to a local store today, picked out some small gifts and am having them wrap them. WE as grievers have got to try somehow to not let others tell us how to feel, or not. Damn it, however long it takes, it takes..............we have earned that right. Grief is an emotion that must not be stifled by any means. I refuse to apologize anymore for crying, praying, or not being "holly jolly" for the holidays. If I want to stay in bed under the covers all day on Christmas, I will. What's funny to me is no one questions people's emotions when they are getting divorced. AT LEAST THE EX IS STILL ALIVE!!!!!! If I sound angry, it is because I am. The sheer ignorance of others is appalling. God Bless you, and to heck with what others think about how YOU should act.................go buy that book!!!!!

I took care of my grandmother,solely for 18 months. She became my grandma, my mother, and eventually my child. In February of 2004 she was diagnosed with colon cancer. They reassured me they got it all out and that she would live well into her 90's. (She was 87). After 3 months of chronic, explosive 15-20 bowel movements a day, hospitalization after hospitalization, and a weight of 72 pounds, our primary told me there was nothing more they could do. She kept getting one infection after another. I had to spoon feed her, change her diapers, and steam clean my rugs every day............yet I didn't mind. When the hospital she was in deemed her as "non hospice" for that hospital, I decided to take her home. Untied Home Hospice came every day. Each day she dramatically downslided. Each day was scarier than the one prior. I carried her to her commode (sounds crazy, but that was her wish, some dignity). She arrived home on Monday, by Friday her respirations were 90 a minute......with the palliative med's. She SHOULD have died Friday, but lingered until Monday, June 21st. I am empty, sad, lonely, misunderstood, and alone in my grief. I am sickened at the phrases of "get over it". "Let it go". "What would she be doing in heaven watching you". These are all questions asked by people who did not truly understand the type of angel she was. The more they stab me with these words, the more I want to crawl into a hole. She was my world, as a child, and an adult. I am sick of justifying or apologizing for my feelings. The thought of the holidays nauseates me, but I am trying, as darned hard as I can. It's just so darned lonely. Can anyone relate? I looked death right in it's face in all of it's ugliness and it is a thought that haunts me every day.