My Dad is gone.

[alib24]

My dad died 5 week ago. I struggle with the term loss, because he isn't lost in the woods somewhere, or lost his way, he has left earth. My dad was 59. I am 24 and it seems in comprehensible that he is not here anymore. 2 years ago this past May, dad was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. I remember the day so clearly in my mind. I wasn't naive, I knew the news wasn't great, but I never allowed myself to think he would die. How could I when he was so well. I suppose I should of seen the signs, gradually over the years he became thinner, weaker but still I thought, nope not my dad. He will get through this. There have to miracles out there and surely my dad will be one. I got so mad a friend one day who hadn't seen my dad in a long time, and when I showed her a recent photo she replied 'Oh he looks so sick'. How dare she? How dare she crush my hope. I think I floated above the depth of the severity of cancer, if I thought about it too much the scariness of it would consume me. Instead I consumed myself with optimism and hope, because thats what dad was doing. 

 

 Then came the day when his vision was blurred, and he was more tired than usual. He was admitted to hospital and after a minor seizure, palliative care was called in to tell us unfortunately he would be coming home, where he could be comfortable because there was nothing they could do. Before he got home, he seizure again for 2 hours. My sisters and mum where at the hospital and I received the horrific call, when the seizure was over, he would fall asleep and wouldn't wake up. For the next 2 days my dad held on, and I can't even describe those days to you. Seeing your parent deteriorate before your eyes is truly cruel and something no one should have to experience. Foolishly I thought I had weeks to talk to him and tell him all the things I needed to say. Instead I had to tell him while he was unconscious, hoping like hell he was able to hear me. Eventually he stopped breathing, and I didn't have the touch, advice, voice of my dad anymore. 

 

The first days following I was running on adrenaline. And thinking back, I can't believe I got through it without crying. Because since his funeral my hardest days have come. Seeing his face in a photograph or thinking about things we won't get to do, everything comes flooding back. The pain of that final week. 

 

I miss my dad so much. And what is affecting me most is the things we will miss together. Both of my sisters are married, and my dad walked them down the aisle. I am not married, and understanding I won't have dad here for that day kills me inside. I can't get past it. I know he was option A and I know my mum is option B and as much as I want and need option A, option B is just as good and I need to be thankful for that. 

 

If anyone could help me with any ways that they have dealt with their grief I would greatly appreciate it. 

[silverkitties]

Alib, I am so sorry for your loss. My experience was quite similar to yours, even though we had my mother's memorial service quite a bit later. The problem emerges when others have "moved on," but you have not: simply because it's not quite so easy for those who are closest to "get over it." In fact, the deeper the bond, the more trying and painful it can be.  When others distance themselves from you--particularly if you are the only one or close to being such (maybe estranged relationships with others?)--it becomes even more difficult. 

 

I have written about my pain of grieving over my mom in quite a few threads, so I won't try to retread too much here; but what you're experiencing is all too familiar to me. Sometimes it's hard to say whether it's the actual loss that hurts more--or the pangs of happy memories: experiences you know you will never share with him again. Both can hurt in their own way. Then there are also other sorts of reminders: when the weather evokes the days of his final illness. Or if you see something that revives memories: say, a souvenir you bought on a trip you enjoyed with him. A gift he bought for you. You can also feel memories wash over you as you head someplace where there are associations with your dad, whether near or far. There are probably others...Sometimes you will feel besieged by all of these recollections, as I have in these last few days, exactly a year after the diagnosis of the cancer which ultimately killed her. 

 

What helped me most in the few weeks after my mom's death was discussing her with others who knew her well--like her closest sister and cousin. In some ways, it was almost comforting to learn things I never knew about her and to see it from others' perspectives too. It was almost as if she were still nearby. Have you been able to have conversations about your dad with your mom or sisters? I have also found it comforting to write here and release my feelings: you will find many sympathetic eyes here.    

 

Not least, finding a new activity can help too--or perhaps finishing a project. It's occurred to me a few times--on my less miserable days--that the passing of a loved one can serve as a fresh impetus for activity. After all, we know that our parents cherished us--and wanted us to continue living life to the fullest, even if it seems inconceivable at this very moment. It may be the best way of keeping their memory alive.

[MissionBlue]

I am so very sorry that you had to witness your beloved dad's death in that excruciating way at such a young age. I'm much older than you, but my dad's death has devastated me, because I lived with him all of my life.   I watched helplessly for four days while my father was sedated on the ventilator after a massive heart attack.  I felt hope after he was weaned off it.  He seemed to be getting better, but his kidneys were failing and he started experiencing respiratory distress again.  I kept vigil for 36 hours straight as my father died of respiratory failure in Comfort Care.  I remember looking out the hospital window.  As day turned into night, I felt so detached, like the world was foreign to me.  I felt like I wasn't connected to it anymore.  My father who had been the source of my greatest happiness and security was dying and there was no one to comfort me or to feel what I was feeling.  All I could do was listen to his labored breathing in the dark and count his respirations as they got further apart.  Even though he was 86, I had never allowed myself to think he would die until he was at least 90.  He had been sick for a long time with congestive heart failure, and he had experienced other crises, but he always bounced back.  His will to live was strong. He wanted to live for my sake and for his own, because we were happy together and we had so much to look forward to.  I feel like I should have cherished each day with him as if it were his last, but thinking about his death was too painful. I was in denial.  I was there for him, but there are things I could have done, such as record his voice, taken more pictures than I did.  Ask him more questions, record his answers.  We talked with each other every day of our lives, but it was mostly about the concerns of each day.  The rest of the time we were watching movies or listening to music together, zoning out from reality.

 

I also cried very little for the first week.  I didn't cry at all at his funeral.  For the first two months after his death, I was numb.  I felt sad, anxious, depressed, guilty and had terrible insomnia.  Then reality started to set in and I now cry almost every day much more freely.   I still feel a tingly feeling in my extremities, like my nerves are still on edge.  I worry if I am going to survive my grief.  I am trying to do things I haven't done before, like a bucket list.  A few days ago I went bowling for the first time.  It was kind of fun, but every time I do something fun I wish my dad could enjoy it with me, and then the melancholy sets in.  People were celebrating in the streets with fireworks after the Warriors' basketball victory and I wondered will I ever be happy and carefree again? 

 

The trauma of watching my dad die has lessened somewhat six months later, but I miss him more than ever now.  I just can't imagine myself living alone for the rest of my life, so I have joined several online dating services.  I had my first date with an attorney last week.  He's a nice man, but his first love seems to be the sea.  He wants to live on a yacht he has just purchased and I can't see myself living on a boat.  I have too much stuff.  I am corresponding with another fellow who is very articulate, but he goes to church every day, and I am not that religious.  It's going to take time to find somebody who is compatible with me.  I may never find someone.  What depresses me is that I know I'll never find someone who understands me or who shares my interests as much as my dad did.  Even if I do, there is no guarantee that a man will stay with me for the rest of my life, so I'm going to have to experience extreme grief all over again, only I'll be older and weaker.  How can anybody be happy, knowing so much grief lies ahead? I have experienced the deaths of loved ones before, but I always had my father to give me moral support.   Now I live alone and most of my friends and relatives live far away.  I've tried to make new friends but it takes time to build up trust with people.  So far I haven't been able to find anybody who shares my interests, other than dining out and drinking cocktails which aren't good for my health.    

 

Someone on another forum said what helped her was to replace each sad thought with a good memory of her dad and she began to come up with many good memories of his life too that way. The trauma does lessen in time and replacing the bad memories with good memories really helped her.  My problem is that even the good memories make me sad, because they remind me of the happiness I'll never experience again with my dad.  Nobody I know likes the old movies or the vintage music we liked. The world is a different place than it was when my dad and I were younger.  A lot of the places and activities we enjoyed no longer exist.   As friend said to me today, considering how the world seems to be changing for the worse, she's glad she's on her way out instead of the other way round.  I think the only advantage of living in these modern times are the technological advances. 

I have tried four therapists, three support groups, six churches, six bars and going to restaurants with friends and relatives.  After all this I think the thing that has helped me most is writing about my feelings in grief support groups like this one.  I also have an online friend who has been a huge support to me. We email each other almost daily and write about what we are feeling.  She lost both her parents recently just as I have.  This is a time to reach out to others for support and guidance.  After a while, friends and relatives may stop calling so often and expect you to move on. That's when therapy and grief support groups can be helpful, but sometmes it takes time to find a therapist or a group that is the right fit for you.  I wish you the best. 

[Everly]

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[MissionBlue]

MissionBlue, I only read 1/2 your story below, and I'm crying.  I will read the rest later.  It makes me so sad.  It's how I feel about my Mom.  Gosh we loved them so much didn't we?  How can we love them so much?, when some people seem to not love their parents at all?  What is it about us that we treasured our parents? Do you think we are that lucky and it's not so common to love our parents the way this group does.

 

I will read your story later.. I'm sorry about your Dad

Thank you, retz62. I'm sorry my post made you sad.  That's the trouble with so much lamenting, it just makes me and other people sad.  But I feel like my dad deserves to be mourned.  I know the big trend these days is to make funerals "celebrations" and that's great for people who aren't deeply affected by a person's death, but I just don't understand people who can "celebrate" when the person they loved best dies.   Maybe if the person who died was a bon vivant it might be appropriate to make merry, but for someone who loved being with his family, death is not a happy occasion. 

 

On a forum about loneliness there was a debate about what's worse to be lonely as an adult without anyone to share your life or to lose someone after many years of happiness and realize what you are missing?  They're both terrible, but I think to never experience what we had with our parents is worse even though we'll miss them for the rest of our lives. 

[Everly]

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[MayFGL]

We all love our parent(s) so much, I don't get it when some don't even care about them. Wait! I take it back. I never knew my father because he died when I was a few months old. I just found out about 10 years ago. Mom told me that he used to physically and mentally abused my mom. When mom told me this, I thought she was joking at first and then I just broke down and cried. All these years, nobody told me about this. 

 

Back then, when we were living in China, we were very poor. What little money we had, my father would steal the money to buy drugs. He cared about drugs more than his family. Mom would skip many meal so that we kids could eat. For these reasons, I hated my father. Mom overcame so many hardships. I almost died when I was born because mom had complications delivering. She went right back to working in the rice fields the following day. No rest whatsoever.

 

When my mom was in ICU, I needed to use the restroom. I was waiting in line when I met this lady who had a friend in the ICU. She was a neighbor. She said her neighbor fell on the coffee table. She never woke up. They were about to pull the plug in an hour. The lady said that the daughter never cared about her mom or even visit her. She said that she wasn't going to be in the room when they pull the plug. As we were talking, the daughter comes walking past the us and says in Spanish, "I don't want to go. Say "Bye!" to mom for me. That's it." You should hear her tone.