Lost My Best Friend, My Dad.

[DebFromLodi]

The first time my mom had a complete knee replacement everything went well and easy. 2 weeks of PT and back home she went, better than ever. This time the doctors all approved her other knee to be done, she went to rehab, where they kept her drugged constantly. Then they kicked her out saying she was rehabilitated enough to leave. My brother took her to his house to do the walking thing that they never completed at the hospital. We finally had to put her into a convalescent hospital, where they too kept her drugged all the time. She never was able to get up and walk. The first surgery and PT went so well, how were we to know that this one would kill her? And it did kill her. I think since she was not able to move around, the fluids surrounded her heart and killed her. Her body just shut down. But there was no real reason to believe the second surgery would not have turned out like the first. Had any of us known, we would have stopped her from having it and I would have reported that rehab hospital for not doing their job.

My point is, we cannot predict the future and cannot continue to punish ourselves for things we have no control over. It was just my mom's time to go and nothing I could have done would have prevented it. Yes, I should have gone to see her and stayed hours longer than I did, but I can't change that now. I can continue to punish myself as long as I want, but there comes a time in life when you can't take the self punishment. That is where I am now, I am trying hard to remember the good things and the way she loved me so perfectly.

You will get there, Em...I promise. Just going to take alot of time. Please be kind to yourself.

[mlg]

Em

Maybe your dad living another year wasn't a punishment for you, maybe it was so he could go back to his homeland. There was something unfinished that God wanted him to do.

Like Deb has said, we all tend to punish and second guess ourselves but the truth is we have NO control over when someone dies. We do the best we can with the knowledge we have. I am a nurse and had I known how much the last medication was going to take out of him and still have the same result I would have encouraged him not to take it. Maybe his quality of life would have been better, but we were grasping at straws trying to do anything we could to get him to be able to live longer.

We can blame ourselves or others but what good does it do? Our loved ones would not want us to totally give up our lives. The only time I left Tom the last 3 weeks was to go get something to eat, take a shower, go to church and quickly run to a visitation. He was so upset.

Posting here is great, but maybe one on one with just your circumstances involved would do you some good too. The most important thing is, it all takes time and it hasn't been that long. You also have the holidays which add a whole new dimension.Please quit beating yourself up. It is OK to gireve, but not to make yourself a human punching bag.

[Chai]

Oh, emptyinside. I am so sorry for your pain. Your heart is broken. But you can repair it. Your father would want you to. He wants you to keep going. I think he can see you, even if he is a different place, he lives on in your memories and in your heart. He is a part of you. I think one of the bestest gifts you can give is your dad is to take care of yourself. I know it is hard to think of anything, hard to not just lie there and think of the memories and the guilt. But you must take care of yourself, and as others have suggested, I think counseling one-on-one could be helpful.

I too carry around some feelings of guilt, of, if I had known the time was so short - two months, instead of a year! - I would have taken a leave from school too and been with him. After I visited him - it ended up being the last time I saw my dad - I was crying and crying. I wanted to abandon all my duties and be by his side every day, talking to him, laughing with him, telling him in person "I love you" and "thank you."

But life is not under our control. It hurts, and it seems unfair, that it is not under our control, that we can do nothing to prevent what God has ordained. Even so, I don't think anger at God is called for. God loves us, and He loves your dad, and He loves you. Your dad is with God now, and there is some feeling of, why can't you be with him at the same time as God? Why does God's personal time with your dad now have to be exclusive? Again though, I think others who have posted here are right - God has summoned your dad to be in your dad's original place, the place where his soul can get fulfillment, the place where he can fulfill his duties and potential. He is your dad, and also the eternal child of God. God takes care of His children, and loves us all very much.

I don't think it is a problem at all, Buddhism, Catholicism, the religion. I think there are more similarities between the religions than people realize. So many religions emphasize love, and your dad was a very loving person. He is going to be fine, with God. I think he is watching you, and your dreams are telling you that your dad is content. He is not worrying, and he feels like he is in the right place. But he would want you to take care of yourself.

What I mean by 'take care of yourself' is, do whatever you can that feels right. Write more letters to your dad. Go see a counselor one-on-one, maybe. Journal. Write down all those special memories! Listen to all that music! And please, go to the doctor to see what can be done about the anxiety attacks. That is normal, but we want you to be okay too, emptyinside.

Love and blessings,

Chai

[emptyinside]

Sometimes (always) I get hit with these desperate urges to talk to my dad. I try to write down these things in a letter to him, but it's not the same. Not the same at all. I miss our banters. God, this is so difficult.

[AnnieO]

Emptyinside,

This might sound strange, but my therapist had me put a picture of my dad, in a chair and I "talked" to him. It was quicker than writing down all the things I had to say. She also told me to set aside time to grieve each day...I know we grieve all day, but she had me set aside time where I could light a candle, be alone and cry, weep, sob , yell , what-ever I had to do. If I remember, many members here have done this too. Might be worth a try.

[leeann]

((((((Em)))))) Big Hugs for you.

It's as simple as they have said..... just talk to him then.

Tell him everything! That's fine to do.. I know many of us have done it. I talk to my parents all of the time. I tell them everything from the great news going on in our lives to the absolutely mundane. If I feel the need to talk to them..I go with that feeling & I simply do talk to them.

You can too. Why not try it and see if it helps you.

leeann

[mlg]

I lost my husband the most recently but I talk to him and my dad all the time. I ask them questions even though I know I won't get a reply. I know they were both laughing at my grandson in a basketball game because when he tried to bounce the ball out of bounds off the other player it hit so hard it landed right back up in his arms and he had the funniest look on his face. It's nice to think of them laughing too. I ask Tom to put his arms around me when I'm really upset and sometimes I feel this warmth on my upper arms and I really feel he is holding me. Just talk to your dad and he may whisper back in some way.

[emptyinside]

AnnieO, thanks for the suggestion. I do have a framed portrait of him that I talk to. I will set side a time to grief alone. Thanks also to leeann and mlg.

[leeann]

My former self was very put-together and on track, so my becoming unhinged like this is very different

Em... This isn't becoming unhinged.. this is just grief. This is how it hurts. This is how it feels. There is nothing abnormal about your response to the loss of your Dad. And I have learned it doesn't help me if I judge it to be "crazy" or any other negative word or adjective. The more I read here that what I felt was "normal".......the less time I spent being anxious about my feelings or my responses to my losses...and the more time I had to spend on expressing those feelings... which.. did indeed help me to heal.

]"I still feel all alone in the way I'm feeling." I can't even say I want to get better. I just want him back. I don't have the ambition or desire to get better with this horrific version of life. I want the old version back, and I hang onto that very immaturely, I know, but I can't help it. This was the one thing that could ever turn me from my former mature self to a blubbering and childish basket case.

You are definitely not alone in your grief. Our individual grief journeys are yes.. unique. However.... we ALL understand the pain. We all have felt it. It would be impossible for all of us to feel the same exact pain at the same exact moments. But please.. understand... all of us right here know exactly the pain you are in. We have been and in some cases are in that pain right now. And yes we all possess that desire to have our loved ones back. That's only natural and human.

You are still your mature self.... just a newer version. A better version. It's just that society may look at tears and breaking down as weakness... but anyone here will tell you... going through a grief journey after a significant loss only makes one stronger. You see, we have loved and been loved and now... we have lost the presence of that love in our lives as we knew it. And we are still walking life's journey... anyway.

ANYone who experiences this.... grows inside. It is a totally new experience for many of us. The ground on which we walked.. exists no more.

So.. we are on totally NEW ground and learning to navigate it out of sheer necessity. Not because we want to... we have no choice. We have to.

And that experience only lends itself to a different perspective on life itself & on love. We see the world differently.. because.. our world has changed... completely. Our vision isn't what it once was.... it's keener.

So we walk that new ground that others, who haven't experienced this kind of loss, have no idea of. We are in new places.. seeing, feeling and touching things within us we have never seen, felt or touched before.

Our knowledge of life and love has literally changed and it has painfully grown. And as our journey continues... so will this knowledge. It's not a fun place to be. It's a hard place to be.... very hard. That's why it is such a blessing to be typing to you and reading from all our other wonderful members. It is a comfort... a release...

It is looking at the scuffed up and worn hiking boots on mlg's or AnnieO's, or any other member's here, feet and knowing how they feel because my feet are in the same boots. It's the familiar pain.... that draws me here. Your pain.. yes.. it is newer... but don't forget.. at one time.. ALL of us were in that new pain... and for some it wasn't that long ago.

Em, just because you feel alone on your journey... doesn't mean you are alone.

Hon.. you are not.

We all are grabbing each other's cyber hands here and hanging on for dear life... walking on this new ground in beat up boots.

So here...lace yours up and grab on>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(((((((EM))))))))

leeann

[kath]

Em,

Everyone has said some really good things and I just want to add to them. I'm 19 months out from when my husband died and missing our talks and banter is just one of the things I want so deparately to hold onto. No one understood me better than he did. No one got the inside jokes and no one ever will. So, when I think of them, sometimes I cry because he is not here to share them with, and sometimes I laugh because he would have laughed with me. It is very difficult in the beginning, and this is still your beginning.

I have to figure out insurance and legal stuff for myself and my kids. I was never great at making major decisions, and I wander around wishing Bob were here to help me. The sad reality is he is not. That doesn't mean he isn't near and he no longer cares. It just means I have to evaluate the facts and make my own decision or else reach out to several others and gain their insight. Both processes are new to me. I draw on my experience and try to think what Bob would have done. It takes more work, but I have to learn to trust myself and this is just part of that learning process.

These are just some of the things I have done this past year that I would have thought were impossible. I've taken apart a vaccuum cleaner and repaired it. I replaced a light fixture. I've had two flat tires repaired. I built shelves and exhibited at craft shows. I've driven many miles with the kids so they can experience the same things they would have if their dad were here to drive them. I've made numerous financial decisions. All of this is new. And I did it myself.

You will find your new self in the midst of all you are going through. It will amaze you and make you proud knowing it would make your dad proud. He spent his life preparing you for this. All his insight, his sharing and listening, he was teaching you how to live. And I must say, he sounds better than most dad's out there.

Take good care,

Kath

[emptyinside]

I feel guilty about keeping this one thread so long and cluttering the board, but I'm having another bad day. My dad and I loved gadgets. I was just on a news page and it flashed something about a new gadget. I panicked again. My dad and I always talked about the latest technological things. We'd read through tech magazines together, cut out articles for each other to read, etc. What the hell is going to happen to that? I'm already freaking out that they're going to come out with newer inventions that my dad and I won't be able to talk about. I want the world to pause. I'm sorry. I know I can still talk to his picture, I know he is "with" me, but I don't want things to be different. I want him here like he was before. I really don't think I'm going to make it. I don't want to make it, either. Yesterday I saw a guy from the back who looked so much like my dad that I almost drove into a pillar. I knew it wasn't him because he was wearing clothes dad would never wear, but it was so striking that I felt like someone just kicked me in the chest. All of my friends have their parents. My friend was talking about having dinner with her dad. I was so jealous. In addition to talking to his photo, I'm also writing letters, but it's just not the same. It just isn't, and I know I'm supposed to gradually get used to it, it's a fact of life, etc., but I'm so stubbornly yearning for the past that it's to the point that I don't care for reality anymore. Something like talking to my dad about new electronics was so precious to me that I cannot stand not having it anymore.

[DebFromLodi]

You have to realize that it is never going to be the same again. I keep praying for a sign from my mom, but never get one. We just have to go on from here and learn to accept the fact that they are gone. Nothing we can do will change that. Just thank God for the memories you carry and pray that someday we will see them again, not in this lifetime, but in the next. Feb. 2 will be a year since she left me. I never realized before how quickly time passes, a whole year!

Praying for all who visit this site is the best we can do. I am praying for you.

[Chai]

emptyinside,

I am so sorry that you are having such a tough time. It is definitely tough. There will definitely be things that we encounter that jarr us, because they remind us of what we cannot share anymore with our dads. I myself have encountered a few things in magazines that made me sad, too. And every time I hike without my dad now, it will be...I don't even know. Devastating. The first time I hike without him, I don't know what's giong to happen.

In the urge to turn back or stop time, you are not alone. I want to go back, to bring him back or something, so that he can be there for so many things. Graduation. To meet grandchildren. Oh, so many things he won't be there for now. It's heartbreaking to thing of the opportunities and sharings lost to us now.

Keep on talking to his photos and writing those letters. It isn't the same, but at least it is something. It is some way to keep connected and feel like he is still there with you. Of course, it isn't the same as seeing him walk in the door. And it's scary and sad, to think of never seeing him walk through the door again. And isn't it weird, how the littlest things - like you and the gadget page - can send us off again into this terrifying realization that they're gone. I hate it. I visited my grandmother recently, and there were a million little things like that. His shirts are still in the closet! But he isn't around to wear them anymore...

I can't really say anything comforting to you, emptyinside, except that I'm sorry, and I am also hurting.

That friend of yours who was talking about having dinner with her dad...I think, and maybe this is harsh, but I think she should have known better. Come on! Seriously. People should be more gentle.

[emptyinside]

This just isn't something I can live with. I want to see him more than anything in the world. I can't even go near the words "closure" or "accept." It's hard even typing these words. Chai, thanks for commiserating. I always appreciate it. Whenever my friends talk about their parents, I make no mention of it to them. I end up in a ball on the floor, crying. Why do they get their dads?

My friend, who never lost anyone, even a pet, in her life, told me in a matter-of-fact cheery voice, "You gotta get over it, right? Pick yourself up. Go out and live life. Your dad would have wanted you to be out there, I bet." I almost hung up on her. I know she meant well, but I was so upset by that. My own reaction surprised me and I felt awful (but I never mentioned it to her...I knew she meant well). What? Force myself to live? Force myself to go dancing, socialize? I'm lucky I can stand and walk around the house. She has no idea how painful the images of him are in my mind, his suffering, his sad eyes, the little noises he made.

I'm really thinking I'm a lost cause. This isn't something I can live with. Every second I'm fading. I have a huge aversion to any thought of moving on, healing, closure, acceptance, acknowledgment, etc. All I know is this pain, and my insides feel so uncomfortable in this body now. I feel physically ill. I don't even want to be here anymore.

[MartyT]

My dear Em,

You are not alone in feeling “a huge aversion to any thought of moving on, healing, closure, acceptance, acknowledgement, etc.” Most of us mourners have trouble with words like “acceptance,” because in truth the death of our loved ones will never, ever be “acceptable” to us. If these particular words bother you, try substituting words like “reconciliation” and “integration,” and understand that it takes a lot of time and a lot of hard work to get to that point in your own grief journey.

As you are discovering, there are no shortcuts through the minefield of grief work. We must experience the heartbreak of grief, lean into it, and embrace it fully before it begins to loosen its grip and the pain begins to ease. If you’ve read any of the earlier posts written by members who’ve been on this grief journey for any length of time, you know that they have worked very, very hard to get to the place where they are now, and just like you, they sometimes felt as if they would drown and not make it to shore. Many of them are further along than you are now, so their perspective has changed over time ~ but I hope their voices of experience will give you hope and faith as you continue on your own grief journey: the kind of hope that says, “If they can make it through this, so can I” and the kind of faith that says “I believe I can survive this loss, and I will find a way to heal.” Trust that, with the understanding, compassion, and support you’ll find here and elsewhere, you will heal, but in a way and in a time frame that are unique to you. Always keep in mind that this is an individual journey. Others are here to listen, to help, to guide, to suggest, to share what worked for us. But we are not you, and comparing yourself with others or judging your journey against anyone else’s will not help you heal. Grief is universal, but the way we handle it is unique to each of us, and there is no right or wrong way to go down this road.

You say that this just isn’t something you can live with. Take comfort in knowing that whatever it is that you are feeling now, this, too, will pass. Difficult as they are to endure, the feelings you describe so vividly (impatience with your friends; yearning for your father; wishing you could be together again; feeling as if you can make it one moment, only to be drowning in sorrow and desperation the next) are all normal.

You say you feel physically ill, uncomfortable in your own skin, unwilling to go on. Even as you keep telling yourself that your father is away on a long trip and he will come back to you , you cannot stop the pain of missing him, because a part of you knows the brutal truth. Even though you know in your head that your father’s death is real, your heart does not want it to be so. Everything in you is begging for a different ending to this tragic story. That is the internal struggle we all face as we come to terms with the reality of loss. Nessa Rapoport describes it perfectly in this poignant poem that appears on the Comfort for Grieving Hearts page of my Grief Healing Web site:

Undo it, take it back,

make every day the previous one

until I am returned to the day

before the one that made you gone.

Or set me on an airplane traveling west,

crossing the date line again and again,

losing this day, then that,

until the day of loss still lies ahead,

and you are here instead of sorrow.

— Nessa Rapoport, in A Woman's Book of Grieving

Your development as a person is forever changed as a result of your father’s death, Em. Working to assimilate this loss into your life (for the rest of your life) is what we refer to as “the hard work of grief,” as you continue to find your way through the mourning process. Your goal ~ the goal of everyone here ~ is to find an appropriate place in your own inner, emotional world for your loved one who has died, so that you can take the legacies he has left with you into your own future. When you lose someone you love, you will never be the same as you were before. But within every sorrowful situation, growth is possible. This has been true since the dawn of human history. Over time you learn that although a part of you has died, another part is being reborn, making you stronger and more capable. If you can find growth from this loss, your life will be richer for having known your father, for having experienced his death, and for finding your way through this most difficult of life’s hard lessons.

Even as you continue to mourn the loss of your father’s physical presence, Em, remember that his essence has not disappeared, and you can still find ways to maintain your loving connection with him. As others have suggested, you can hold onto possessions he treasured, share stories about him, feel his presence, talk with him, and carry out rituals that you and your mother associate with him. And do whatever you can to preserve your memories of him. In his lovely book, Love Lives On: Learning from the Extraordinary Encounters of the Bereaved, Louis LaGrand offers the following suggestions for imprinting and maintaining powerful memories:

Good memories can be powerful sources of comfort and joy. They can also be very real points of connection to deceased loved ones, because the significance, insight, and identity of the deceased grow through remembrance. In that way, remembrance practices can become an integral part of family life from generation to generation.

Take an inventory of your inner self and recall the happy memories of love and belonging from your past, especially those involving your deceased loved one, and think of the wisdom and encouragement you gained. When you are ready, revisit special places, reread old letters, look over collected mementos, pictures, or scrapbooks, read something your loved one used to read, play some of your old favorite songs, think of a movie you watched together, or seek out friends and relatives who are willing to talk about memories of your loved one. Write down your most pleasing recollections, and then decide on a word or phrase that will bring those specific events into your consciousness whenever you need them. Start the habit of invoking those specific memories when you’re feeling low. Remember, reminiscing is healthy – not a way of living in the past, but rather a way of appreciating all you have experienced and accomplished.

How do you take short-term memories and make them a permanent part of your long-term memory? The answer is repetition (which actually causes structural changes in the brain). We have a tendency to remember what we keep thinking about. Rely on memory aids: a picture, a glass, a golf ball, a special book. Almost anything can be a cue for remembering a person, a trip you enjoyed, a special gift you received, something that was left to you, or something you learned that will be forever cherished (p. 168-169).

I also encourage you to read the following article: How Grief Relates to Work of the Soul

[AnnieO]

EM

As always Marty has so many powerful things to say. Marty has given me strength and courage so many times when I was right where you are. And I was right where you are...many of us have been there. I know that doesn't make you feel better, but I promise you, you can do this. I remember the days that were so dark and painful, I didn't think I could go on or didn't know if I wanted too...but I did go on and you will too. I found an inner strength I never imagined I had. Some days it was all I could do to shower. This is such hard work and you rarely get a break from it , at the beginning. Please believe me it does get easier, I know you don't think that is possible, but there are so many of us here that can tell you that it does. When I say easier, it doesn't mean you miss them any less, not at all....for me it just means I work hard at filling my heart with happy memories and I find comfort in knowing how proud my parents are of me for getting to the place I am now. Your family needs you and your dad is watching over you and is with you thru this painful journey. I hope you find some peace tonight and can rest.