Why Does Each Day Seem To Get Harder Not Easier?

[Guest Dayna]

On Tuesday January 10 (this week), it will be one month since my father has died. I am completely and totally lost. I am a teacher and most days work is really hard. I have to put on this fake happy face for my students and the people around me. I am only 23 years old (with a birthday coming up next month). My father just turned 52 years old. He was an alcoholic for many, many years of his life. He was a functioning alcoholic, meaning that he worked everyday and seemed to enjoy his work. Most people ask me how I am doing and they tell me they are sorry for my loss. Then they ask me what my father died from and when I say liver cancer due to alcoholism they give me a funny look. Like I am not supposed to be sad or that he got what he deserved because he drank most of his life. I truly believe that it is a disease and for most alcoholics it is a way of life and that they don’t know how to change their ways. Growing up there were bad times, some really bad times but there were also good times. I know it sounds weird but I was Daddy’s girl from the beginning even though he wasn’t always very nice to me when I was a kid. We still had a very close relationship. Besides my husband, he was probably my best friend. He knew he did things in life that weren’t right, but I guess he did the best he could at the time. As I got older, we became really close and always had great talks. He could talk for hours on any subject. I frequently met people that he knew, that already knew me because he bragged about me all the time. It was nice to have some one that was so proud of me and my accomplishments. I miss him terribly and I don’t know how to cope. I feel like I have no one to be proud of me anymore and I feel like I am nobody’s little girl anymore. Most days I feel like I am running in circles trying to catch my tail. Christmas was really hard for me. Last Christmas my dad and I had a really stupid argument and we didn’t talk for a few months and I wanted him to live through Christmas this year because I thought I could make it right by spending the day with him this year. As it turns out it didn’t happen that way. We found out he had liver cancer a week before he died and the doctors gave him a couple months, I had hope but I knew it wouldn’t work out that way. I cry everyday and I just wonder if it will ever get better like everyone says. The worst part is that my husband and I finally decided to start trying for a family a few months ago, although nothing has happened yet. My dad had been asking for a couple years when we were going to have kids and when we decide the time is right he passes. It’s not fair. I want him to be here and see my kids. I want him to sit on the living room floor, play with my kids, and help them open presents on Christmas day and now all that has been taken away. Its really not fair. Why do these things happen like this? I am a beliver in that everything happens for a reason, but I can’t figure out why this has happened this way. If anybody has any advice or a similar situation that wants to share that would be so helpful right because I don’t even know which way is up anymore.

Dayna

[Maylissa]

Hi Dayna,

I'm so very sorry you lost your dad, both in this fashion and at such an early age ( for both of you ). While the details differ, I share the experience of growing up with one, officially diagnosed alcoholic, and one not diagnosed alcoholic ( or "problem drinker" ) in my family. My Mother, who was the one who died was diagnosed years ago, while my father was the one not diagnosed, but was the worst problem person in our family. He's still alive ( barely ) but in a home now, with late-stage dementia.

Many of your feelings are common to me, too, except they apply to my Mom, not my father. I'm familiar with the 'looks' one gets when freely stating that someone was alcoholic, and have even had several conversations with 2 of my Mom's sisters about her affliction ( and my father's ). Most people don't seem to want to understand what it's all about, but prefer to remain simply judgemental about someone whose addiction happens to be alcohol...even if they, on the other hand, smoke or use prescription drugs, or what-have-you as their own form of escape/addiction. While my Mom didn't actually die directly from her cirrhosis, it certainly helped her get, and stay, ill, until she finally died from a stroke ( after a few smaller ones first ). It doesn't matter, really. The fact that they're gone and we're hurting is what really matters in the long run.

However, having this kind of background certainly makes our grieving more complicated, as issues from the past arise, resulting in a return of the so-called "crazy-making" emotional reactions we suffered as children, all while we're trying to mourn their loss at the same time. It doesn't even seem to matter ( at least not with me ) whether one understands those past dynamics or not ~ it just makes grieving longer and more difficult to deal with than with others who didn't have such issues in the first place. My Mom, too, could be awful, to me and others, and yet she was also quite a wonderful person in many ways. I, and many others who really knew her, always saw her as having a good heart and core, that simply got wrecked from both the drinking, and in her/my case, mostly my father's abuse. I've looked at her life thousands of times, and thought that, had I been her, I would have turned out even worse, so even if alcoholism isn't a disease, I can't in any way blame her for turning to it. However, it did run in her family as well, so it's not surprising to me that it affected her as it did.

I was also my Mom's only daughter, and she fought to NOT have me aborted, as my father had wanted, so we shared even more bonds than most mothers and daughters have, on several levels.....yes, depsite any bad times that there were, and there were many. But in the last 14 years, we re-established a better relationship with each other ( more workable, for me ) and so now I'm left with an extreme pining for not only the improved relationship, but especially the regrets that it couldn't have been this way, or better, for a much longer time during our lives together. Most times now it darn-near kills me to have to give up that lifelong dream, the one that never really coalesced for us. She's just gone, and there are no more chances, no more attempts I can make, to be even closer to her. The dream is over, and I don't want it to be.

I AM nobody's little girl anymore ( despite the fact that I'm nowhere near a little girl anyway! - I'm 48 already - gak!...but don't feel like I am ), as my father wouldn't allow me to have my Mother's things, then my oldest brother died suddenly, 2 months after our Mom, and my middle brother ( who is like our father ) stole everything else that remained of our parents' 'estate', despite the fact that our father isn't dead yet. The family home was also suddenly sold, so I lost that, too. So I became, in one, swift move, no one's daughter and no one's sister, either, so feel I've lost my entire past life as well. I was in essence, ignored out of existence by my own family. Extended relatives have been almost as bad, with no one caring to understand my position or my pain, and pretty much all contact has been severed. I lost everyone. I have a husband and our remaining furbaby ( cat ) and that's IT. Understand, too, that both my Mother's and my father's families were HUGE, yet I only talk to one, lone aunt now, and she's from my father's side, so I never grew up with her around. All more immediate connections to my Mom, who was my only real parent, emotionally, have been taken away from me. The effects of the alcoholism in the family obviously extends beyond my own, immediate family, further complicating my mourning. And my Mom's siblings are all getting quite elderly as well, so in a few short years, they won't even be here, either, whether we're speaking or not.

I also know what you mean about not having a parent around to be proud of you anymore. That was me and my Mom, too. It took me a few months, but I finally realized just how often in a day, when she was still alive, I'd be doing even the simplest, little thing, and would be thinking about how the task was connected to me and my Mom, and how she'd like this or that, or be proud of how I did something, if she knew. These thoughts were so subtle that I'd never even really noticed them much...until she wasn't there. It wasn't healthy, but I now realize how many things I did, how many values I held, that were more about my Mom than about me ( even thought I've integrated them for myself ), and that's what makes it so hard to go on now. I've lost that impetus inside - strange, though, because she never even knew about most of these things I was doing,as we lived in different places. Yet it's hard to feel any drive to do them now.

And yes, I understand, too, the many regrets and feeling that things are so unfair. Heck, never mind the BIG stuff, even buying a sweater or something that I know my Mom would have liked, the stupidist, little things that can't be shared at all now, seems to reek of unfairness....even THOUGH my Mom was 84, not in her 50's. If they're too young, it's not fair that you didn't get to witness each other's lives. If they were older, there are just that many more years of memories to be missing. It's not fun, no matter how old or how young anyone was. Death isn't fair and it never will be, from the perspective of losing someone you love. If it helps you, I never DID give my Mom any grandchildren, something she wanted more than almost anything else in life....a granddaughter from her only daughter. But it wasn't what I wanted for myself. Do I have regrets about that? Sure! But I'm also glad I followed my own heart in other respects around that. Even I can't say which choice was better, for me, in the long run, I also know I shouldn't beat myself up for not living my life according to someone else's hopes and dreams and on their timetable. Every milestone, every change, whether big or small, will hurt some now and that's just the way it is when we lose someone we love...the details don't matter as much as the over-riding pain of not being able to share in that physical life with someone anymore. Even now, 2 years later, whenever I see a landscape that I would have wanted to show my Mom, or just tell her about, my heart just aches with longing. Now I have to try and find my way back to being able to enjoy these kinds of things strictly for myself. I have no answer as to how to do this yet, though. I'm still struggling daily with this, with so many things. As children of alcoholics, we take on many responsibilities that we never should have, like living too much FOR someone else and THEIR happiness. This is just one of the complications added to our grief. Even if we learned how to go beyond those unhealthy patterns before we lost our parent, sometimes they surface again after our loss. Even in those without such backgrounds, regrets abound. So what I'm really getting to is: feel as much compassion for yourself as you possibly can, for as long as your grief lasts, which may be a very long time. You owe this to yourself now.

As for reasons WHY?....too many times, it takes so long to be able to see the big picture, to give it enough time to unfold so that one can see some reasoning behind an event that occurred much earlier. I'm sure most of us are still waiting for that day, although I've heard of some who see it pretty soon after. I've had it happen in my own life, two times with big events...two of which were really serendipitous in nature and which I believe helped save my sanity in one case, with the other providing me with so much good and love that I can't even count it all, as it hasn't even ended yet. Usually, I think it mostly has to do with our own personal growth, which doesn't often happen overnight, unfortunately. And some people also believe, as I tend to, that when someone has accomplished what they set out to learn on this physical plane, they leave, or CAN leave if they choose, all of this done w/o us remembering our original, spiritual goals, that is. I don't KNOW if this is true or not, but it makes some logical sense to me, so for now, that's what I choose to believe. It makes it easier for me to accept a loved one's passage into a different form of life....as much as that can be 'accepted.'

Whatever issues you face, I'm willing to discuss them, as despite our age difference, when you lose a parent, you're suddenly 3 years old again inside and need all the help you can get. It often helps me to help others, especially when I'm familiar with similar aspects, so feel free to take advantage. Wherever and with whomever you can find help, more power to you.

Being able to talk about anything and everything that comes up is a real boon while mourning, and if I can ever help, it gives me a part of that absolutely-crucial meaning and purpose in my life now...to help fill up that same hole.

[Bebekat]

Dayna,

I'm sorry for the pain you're feeling right now. First, I want to say that nobody "deserves what they get". I believe that addiction is truly an illness, no matter what the addiction is to. People don't have any right to judge...but they do. I've gotten the same look from people when I mention that my husband had hepatitis C.

The fact remains that he was your father and you loved him. You still love him, that will never change. We all have our problems. Be cautious of the people that appear to be perfect. They are just better at hiding their issues.

You're dad was too young to die and like him, my husband will never meet his grandchildren, or play with them. It's just not fair and it hurts, a lot. I hope you will be able to find some comfort in your good memories.

[Guest Marti]

Dear Dayna

I lost my dad on Nov. 17, 2005. Like you, I hardly know which end is up any more. I have been a spoiled rotten daddy's girl since I was born. I am 38 years old and lost my mother to breast cancer when I was 17....so I already knew what it is to lose someone. But this is almost more than I can bear. I was his everything...he loved me more than life, and I guess I took that for granted. Now, living without that love just hurts, all the time. He was 86 years young. He was very active. He golfed every day in the summer and he drank 2-3 times a week (which wasn't necessarily a good thing--the point is, he had fun), he took care of his 4-acre yard out in the country and every Saturday he came into town and stopped at my house. I relied on him for everything: guidance, support and money (more times than I care to admit). He was just always there for me no matter what. He didn't judge me and he usually had good advice for me. Don't get me wrong, he was no saint. He always said what was on his mind whether you wanted to hear it or not. Sometimes he could just be a hard pill to swallow. I kept telling myself that he was going to live forever and I think I actually believed it. He went in to the hospital on Sunday Nov. 13 with back pain and when they did an x-ray, they discovered he had a leaking anuerysm in his aorta. I couldn't believe it....I sometimes still can't. He lived for three days after that, and I thought he was even going to come home. The hospital was an hour away and he died at 12:30am and I wasn't there. I had been up there for two days and came home for just one, and now I could just kick myself for not being there. Now, my stepmother isn't speaking to me because my dad left me some money and we are suppose to split the house proceeds. She has been my stepmom for 19 years, and I really don't want there to be any anomosity between us because I really do care about her. There are so many big decisions to make and I don't feel like I'm in any kind of emotional state to make them. I should be in bed sleeping right now, but can't sleep because I'm crying.....I'm scared. I'm scared of living without him being here for me. I feel like I'm 10 years old again. I know that in time this will get better, but it's probably going to be quite awhile. I was truly blessed to have him for a father and I guess that's what I have to remember. Sometimes life just isn't fair, but I guess what we have to hold on to are the memories and the love we have for them. That never goes away. Hang in there kiddo (i can say that as i am an old geezer of 38). It will get better...at least I hope so.

[Guest Tracy]

Dayna,

My dad was 48 years old when he died suddenly on June 29, 1989 from a massive heart attack, I was 24, my younger sisters were just 19 and 16. My dad was able to meet his one and only grandson, and died when he was only 1 year old. My dad has 4 more grandchildren now that he's never met, and a new son-in-law he never got to know, or walk his daughter down the aisle (me). I know how painful this all is, to think of all the things he's missing out on, how much I miss him, how much I want him back. It took me 11 years to finally have peace and get through my grief, 11 long, painful years, that now I'm so glad are done. One thing that always brought me a little bit of joy was knowing my dad will forever be young. Another that brings me utmost joy and peace is knowing where he is, with my Lord in Eternity, and that I will absolutely be with him again one day forever, that is the one and only piece of knowledge that brings me hope and keeps me in this life, without that faith and knowledge and hope, I couldn't go on.

You will get through this, it will be hard and it will take a while, but you will get through it. You will always be your daddy's little girl and he will always be proud of you. Love never dies Danya, only our bodies do. You don't have to stop loving him.

I hope this brings you some peace today.

[Guest Dayna]

Thank you all for posting an experience that you have had. It does make me feel better knwoing that I am not alone in feeling overwhelmed by my father's death. The days seems to be getting a little easier. It's the night that are still the hardest. I guess eventually we are get through it.

Thank you again,

Dayna