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About silverkitties

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  1. Where to from here?

    Hi Ashlee, I write as well and fully empathize: I felt much the same way you did when my mother also passed away from what may have been pneumonia when she had cancer 3 years ago. I too was her main caregiver. At first, there was a sense of relief: that she was no longer suffering. And that I no longer had to get up super early to prepare her meds and clean up after her. And yet. this sense of comfort was only temporary as the feelings of loss overwhelmed me at times when anything or almost everything could remind me of her. I would put on a lipstick and remember that I wore it on such-and-such a time to see her. Ditto a sweater on my armchair. Sometimes the skies in the early morning would remind me of a visit to her--and at other times, I would be reminded of our weekly shopping jaunts. And, of course, if I was visiting or passing by a place that I hadn't seen since I last seen with mom, I would inevitably think of her too--like the time I went to the DMV to return her license plate. Or the time a friend and I went to a restaurant that I used to go to with my mom. In fact, these memories still hit me. I don't want to say grief is harder for writers but I do think loss affects those of us who are sensitive so much more. It's even worse when we are already nostalgically inclined. My profession as a historian means I spend a lot of time thinking about not only the distant past, but my own past so that the memories and sense of loss feel that much more intense. ANd with that vividness comes a pang that I will never enjoy all the fun, pleasure, and comfort I had from my mom As I've been working on various writing projects since her illness, there are many times when I can't help but think of that fatal year even when I am supposedly fully concentrating on the material in front of me. When I was writing on one author for another textbook a year after my mom's passing, the memories of my reading that author by my mom's bedside in the hospital were almost unbearable....what I would give to go back in time when I still had her, I thought to myself. Then I remembered all those times I walked down the hallways of the hospital, buying her snacks to whet her appetite. Ah...back then, there was still some hope that she would beat the odds. And now, editing the introduction to my book, rereading my bits on Rousseau, brings back memories of the weeks when I first wrote it right before her first stroke....all the times my mom and I went to the mall, grocery shopping, and watched videos together. So I'm not surprised at all that you "obsessively fixate" on small reminders of your dad. However, these feelings do begin to dissipate over time: at least, I have found that to be the case for me after a year. I no longer feel like I am reeling at reminders of mom. I no longer cry 4or 5x daily. I can feel happy--and even laugh several times a day! But I would be lying if I did not admit that grief can hit me all over again when I am depressed or anxious. Healing is not an easy process, particularly when you were very close to the deceased. AFter all, my mom was not just my mom, but my mentor and friend. It is even less so when you have few friends or at least supportive people around you. Although I don't post as frequently as I used to, I have found much comfort here. I realized that I was not alone. I finally had a viable outlet for my feelings (See for instance my earlier thread on the first anniversary of my mother's death.) That there were many others who felt just the same and were undergoing similar issues. At the same time, I've tried to tell myself that I need to finish this book for mom. That she, more than anyone else--the woman who led me from my ABC's to a Ph.D.--would feel gratified. Mom was always active, moving about, doing something. And as such, I've told myself that the best way to honor her is by writing and living life to my fullest potential: that is how I've wound up completing many of my writing projects. I'm willing to bet that your dad felt the same about you;) But don't feel ashamed about giving yourself time to grieve--because you can only move on when you do.
  2. Loss of a parent - daily thread

    Hello, Eliz--know all too well what you're feeling. I went to our local mall for the first time since my mom died cuz I had to retrieve my photos from my broken ipad. I think I was too nervous about not being able to do so and as such didn't feel as overwhelmed about the memories. Yet, it was interesting that on the preceding day I was freaking out on this...thinking how can I bear being at the mall where my mom and I used to go all the time? ANd how would I not be able to think about the time I went there on my own in August 2014--only two months before mom died--and not be able to think about that all that happened afterwards? At the end of the day, the trip was not as terrible as anticipated: partly because I was surprised and happy that Apple was able to get my pics back (including the last pics of my mom). I think if I went to the mall more frequently--like the restaurant I go to with my dad or the Marshalls nearby--I might have felt less distraught at the prospect of going there. It may well be that if you go the mall often enough, you will get more used to it and suffer fewer pangs; perhaps you'll even begin to relish the memories. Why not take your daughter and family out there to eat or enjoy an event? Maybe if you take her to see Santa around Xmas, you might feel thrilled by her happiness. What I don't expect though is to still feel blue when I'm shopping online. Looking at clothes, shoes, or makeup that even reminds me of stuff I bought in the year she died can still bring a pang to me, depending on my mood. The other day I was watching a Ralph Lauren fashion show and couldn't help but think of all the times that we watched one together. Sometimes I see clothes that I want to buy for mom....before suddenly remembering I can't buy them for her. When that happens, I try to get back to work ASAP so as not to feel too bogged down in memories. Yes, still a challenge, even after 3 years.... I won't deny that the first Xmas can be tough: for me, it was less than 3 months after her death. Now, that year, we were still in contact w/ the Taiwanese Association, and they brought us to a few performances. But it made my loss feel more acute than ever when I saw all those happy families with their mothers and grandmothers at the church concert. It brought back memories of my last Xmas concert--when I was 4 and stlll had Mom.Why couldn't mom be here? She would have enjoyed the lovely surroundings of the church and the great music. Not surprisingly too when I cooked Xmas and New Year's dinners, I couldn't help but think of the previous year when mom was still seated at the head of the kitchen table. I hope, with your husband and daughter around you, that you will not feel too lonely, Eliz.
  3. Eve, this year I didn't do much--partly because I am on the home stretch of the book. I just want it out of the way at this point. I can't believe it is three years either. Do you feel differently this year from the previous ones? I still think my first year was beyond a doubt, the most difficult one. Such a double whammy--missing my mom and feeling so lonely. (And of course my dad doesn't make it any easier for me.) When I'm actively engaged on a project, I'm fine. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that sometimes it's still hard to get up and know that there's really nothing to look forward to. No mom to go out with. No mom to show my work to. No mom to make me feel comfortable. The fact that dad is so different from mom hurts even more, especially when I KNOW that he helped end her life. It pisses me off so royally that he has only cared for himself and never cared about me or mom--and here I am, taking care of HER MURDERER. Mom and I should have had the chance to enjoy more trips together. She should have had a few relaxing years without the asshole telling her to do this and that. Especially whe dad has done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for our family. Everyone used to say that my mom looked so strong and dad so weak; yet it was my dad who outlived her. IT'S BECAUSE HE KILLED HER BY DRAINING HER OF ALL ENERGY! I hope to make the remainder of his life as miserable as possible.i tell him each and every day that /i hold his kunt mother responsible for raising such a weak, no-dicked man. Honestly, she should have just let him die when he was a sickly boy isntead of spoiling him. He has NO business living up to his late 80s! I hold his kunt cousin for distracting him from his work: and of course my dad for not being able to resist. ( It is interesting btw that while I have had opportunities to flirt with men these past 2 years courtesy of LinkedIN (LOL!!!), I have withheld them in the knowledge that my completing book is far more important! )FINALLY, HIS KUNT STEPMOTHER FOR AIDING AND ABETTING THIS KUNT (BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER) AND ADOPTING MY DAD'S YOUNGER BROTHER SUCH THAT HE OWNS all THE PROPERTY DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE ALREADY EARNS FAR MORE THAN MY DAD. SHE AND MY ASSHOLE GRANDFATHER DEMANDED $200-300 A MONTH FOR 20 YEARS IN THE 1970S AND 80S. HIS WHOLE FAMILY SUCKS! (Sorry about the caps....typed it all, discovered it, and didn't want to retype.) I blame my dad for not researching health insurance in 2013/14 when he was being switched from Cigna to United Healthcare. I 've always wondered if this 2nd rate insurance is what made the doctors give up on her. I blame my dad for pressuring me in my younger years...while he busily played with his kunt cousin. Honestly, I know of no man who uses a sabbatical to fool around with a prostitute. Sabbaticals are used for writing books! No wonder this jackass never made as much money as other engineers. And no wonder he wanted me to study medicine or engineering....so I could support his sorry ass in later years. He's not like those good American fathers who say I will earn as much as possible so my daughter/son can study anything s/he wants. (Interestingly, this is what his younger brother did....shows you how much better a father he is than my jackass father. A good father fights so his children can have EVERYTHING! ) I MISS MOM SO BADLY! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE TWO OF US TOGETHER....NOT ASSHOLE DAD! I hope he dies in pain. GODDAMN THE MOTHER PHUCKER.
  4. Well, Eve, mine has come and gone....although today was wet and muggy, reminding me of the day she passed. I guess another warm, rainy October day will never be the same again. I thought of you the other day too when the anniversary of your mom's stroke approached. Reader, yes, sometimes getting up and out is just half the battle. Sad but true.
  5. Those are all great ideas, Reader. I remember preparing my mom's favorite chicken soup: actually, it was consistently one of the favorite dishes my mom prepared for us over the years, especially when one of us was sick. Then in the last 2 months of her life, she taught me how to do it. It was one of the dishes I brought to my mom when she was still conscious. This year I got really busy...so I decided to resurrect this thread and write about my current thoughts on her. Mom is, of course, rarely out my head; I guess reading my earlier thoughts on her and writing about her helps bring her back to me just a bit. Life will never be the same for us. when i am not busy working on something, my life feels like such a vacuum without her. Sometimes, all I want to do is listen to sad songs and cry.
  6. Tessa, because my dad is such a big liar, I don't even know if his kunt cousin is still alive. Dad told mom she was dead and when I asked him later, he said that her neighbor told him. And now I wonder....did he find this out when he was visiting her? Or did her neighbor call up my dad to tell him? Either way, it makes him look very bad. Later on, when I asked him if she was dead or alive (because I know what a liar he is), he said he didn't know! Last night, we had yet another fight. Scumdad complained that I didn't put his meds in his box. I hit the ceiling. EVERY WEEK, I do his meds and show him how everything has been placed in its proper slot, Monday through Sunday. If he's missing anything, it's his fault. But, of course, it happens just about every week, because idiot doesn't know what day of the week it is and is not smart enough to figure out that he must have taken meds for a different day of the week. (They're actually all the same for the morning, and for the afternoon.) Nor surprisingly, we had another huge fight. I make sure to tell him every day that I hole him responsible for killing mom and that he's better off dead. AFter all, if you're braindead, you might as well be dead. I just saw the best obit by a woman who hated her father. I'm planning on doing much the same: http://obit.carnesfuneralhome.com/leslie-ray-charping Reader, when did your dad pass? You may have mentioned it once, but I've forgotten... (maybe I'm braindead too) Are you planning anything special? I remember preparing my mom's favorite chicken soup that firswt year.
  7. It's so lonely

    No kidding,--that's exactly how I feel,Tessa. I worked from home teaching and grading online so I was here more or less 24/7 with mom hovering around nearby unless I was actually teaching on campus. Now, if my deadbeat, douchebag, dimwit, dipshitt, dingbat dad were not here, life would have been heaven. I used to fantasize that once D(e)ad kicked off, mom and I would travel again. No more having to bend over backwards for the overgrown 4 year old. The mentally ret@rded affirmative action graduate of Princeton. The incest pest. But alas, he wore mom out and she died instead. I do miss her so much. She was my best friend, mentor, and everything in between. Like you, I don't have lots of friends either....I had just gotten rid of one two years before her passing and I have another one whom I do like a lot but she lives several states away. I miss not going shopping with Mom after finishing a big project. I miss not going to the library and Barnes and Noble in the late afternoons when we would check out DVD's to watch. I miss not going to the drugstore where mom would simultaneously complain I had too much makeup AND urge me to buy yet another nail polish. I miss not showing my mom my articles and course evaluations.....just like the days when I was a little girl in school. Those days are gone. (All together, CUE Eric Carmen's ALL BY MYSELF, DON'T WANNA BE ALL BY MYSELF....ANYMORE). The silence can be difficult....and even worse are the reminiscences, especially in the beginning. I'd look out of the window and think of the time that mom and I had gone out grocery shopping and discovered the best wings ever. And sometimes, if I happened to be watching a Spice Girls video, I would inevitably think back to late 1998 when mom spent Christmas with me in England. What a wonderful holiday. I can still remember going through those crowds of people on Oxford St. in London, feeling tired, but so happy with mom. We'd go to a carvery and eat to our heart's content. Or sometimes we'd get sushi and mom would laugh at the number of plates in front of me. (Oh no, this is starting all over again!!!!) So before I get lost in memories again...can you tell us more about your mum, Tessa? Sometimes you''ll feel better just writing about your mom and sharing favorite memories.
  8. Hi Tessa and Lisa--Tessa, i'm sorry to hear about the loss of your mother: and that your in-law is part of the asshole dad club as one of our posters here calls it. I can tell you first hand it definitely hurts because you can't help but think how much better it would be if he--rather than the mother--died. Every day I can't help but think how much more superior my mom is to my dad in every shape and form. And that she was probably the only one who ever loved me. I am pretty much stuck yelling at him because he's the type that if you are nice to him, he takes full advantage of it. Plus, he's deaf. I really wish I had the money to just stuff him in a nursing home, but alas I don't. Maybe when I earn money from my new book, I can Plus, I need to vent especially since there is no other release for me. How I long for mom. My last 10 years have not been easy, and mom always made everything feel palatable. She was almost a reason for remaining alive. When I went away on trips, it was always great to call up and chat with her: and those chats would inevitably be over an hour even though I otherwise lived with her, Then when I got home, we'd go out to eat. She was there whenever I finished my work, and would always be sure to fix a favorite meal if I was very busy. And now, what a contrast with my dad: a man who never listens, is slow and stupid so that one has to repeat everything at least 10x before he gets it. Sloppy, scattered and unrefined so that I have to clean up more than ever. What a difference from mom who was always fast, tidy, knowing and, above all, appreciative. I know, no amount of wailing will bring her back. I can sing "My favorite things" till I'm blue in the face, but she won't come running to the backdoor from outside. I can listen to all the songs I used to listen to in high school and know that I won't hear her call my name to go down for dinner. The phone will ring and I know it won't be her telling me that she'll be in home in a few minutes. At the same time, when I'm out, I can't help but think of how i passed by the very same places only a short while ago with mom. So strange to think that depiste the passing of 3 years, I am still struck by little things like this.
  9. Hi Lisa, I've thought a lot about you, wondering how you were faring with your mastectomy and chemo: I recall you writing back sometime this past spring or early summer but was too exhausted to write at that time. Teaching, writing, my own health issues, and of course, my crazy ass dad were a struggle for me. Everything that could go wrong seemed to happen. Let me give you one example that happened back in early April. Since we were going to see Dad's doc, I begged him to change his diapers and clothes. He refused. Anyway, when we got there, the doc commented on it and suggested that he get a guardianship. A few days later, this one nasty, officious SS worker came over and said he was going to push for it. That got me worried as guardianships are riddled with problems--not least, serious abuse. Anyway, it took nearly a month to get these POS off our backs--only after I complained to the SS department about the worker and threatened to report him to our state legislators as well too. This ticked me off because if dad had listened to me then, none of this crap would have happened. Even now, I have to yell and yell at him before he does anything. If I don't die of a heart attack or stroke, I will count myself lucky. In fact, I even wonder if my eczema is triggered by my dad. When I feel irritated, I can't stop scratching. I've decided when he dies, I am going to write the nastiest obit ever. He's screwed my life from beginning to end, refused to fight for his share of our property and wasted our finances on that kunt of his. He has NEVER done anything for our family, and yet I'm slaving away for him. WHY???? This is not to say I don't have qualms. I know mom loved him: I have no idea why. He's plug ugly, stupid, and I hold him responsible for her death. In fact, not a day goes by without telling him he killed mom. I really want to dump his ashes when he dies. Yet I know she would not want it--and so every night I wonder what to do. All i know is I want to reunite with my mom. That's all I want....I guess that's what we all want.
  10. I can't believe it's been 3 years and a day since Mom passed away on that rainy morning of Saturday, October 4, 2014. 3 years have passed...and yet so much and so little seems to have changed. I'll start with some of the positives. I can safely say that 2015 was undoubtedly the most difficult year. All the memories from 2014 and the preceding years still seemed so fresh and raw. Every day was packed with memories. Sometimes I'd wake up and the skies would remind me of a certain day I visited mom in the hospital. Another day, it would remind me of a day in England. Then when it came time to pick a lipstick to wear, going through the stash I had bought that year would remind me of the day I had worn one out with Mom. Or the day it arrived in the mail before mom and I went out to shop. Going out to shovel snow would bring back recollections of early 2014 when I shoveled the driveway while mom was in the kitchen. To make a long story short, every day was filled with so many different thoughts, reminiscences, and snapshots of the past, shot through with acute longings for a happier time together and knowing that I would never have them again. As the one-year anniversary came and went, I continued to be haunted by memories....but they were now becoming suffused with a softer light. Sure, sometimes I would still feel immense hurt, especially on the days that my dumbass, deadbeat, douchebag dad behaved like the true unthinking moron he is (granted, a LOT of times), but happy memories were no longer always accompanied by the sharp pangs I felt in the preceding year. I began to look back on our times together in a new light. I thought about how fortunate I was to have mom and to have experienced all that we did: our travels, our celebrations, our shopping excursions, our pizza nights, and gardening stints. I began to feel grateful that my mom did not die suddenly and unexpectedly when I heard news of that terrorist attack in Paris. So glad that I did not lose mom at an earlier age when I needed her even more. Could I imagine losing my mom at the age of 3 when I was so attached to her? 16 when my dad began cheating on mom? 27 when I lost a guy whom I had been seriously interested in for 4 years? I wondered too....what would it be like to lose mom at a later age when we have even more memories together? What would it be like to lose mom when I am old and feeble myself--how would I help her? And so on...Not that there is ever a right time to lose her, of course. Was 2-14 the most opportune year to lose her if I must? 2017 has been an especially challenging year, not so much because of grief, but because of personal difficulty with my father --reasons that are too much to deal with here. (Indeed, I already feel tired just thinking about it): much of which wound up making me long for mom all the more. If mom were here, I'd tell myself, Social Services wouldn't be making their troublesome visits. I wouldn't feel so worried about staying in the hospital for a full recovery. I would have a chance to relax, kick back and watch more movies with her. And on those days I went to teach in NYC, I couldn't help but wish that she were with me on the bus. How I longed to ask her more about the route taken by the bus on the Henry Hudson Pkway in the Bronx. WHen did we take this route? Is this how we went to Chinatown? New Jersey? And is that mall on the right hand side the old one where we used to go on Friday evenings? How nice it would be if mom were on that bus with me, staring at the stars through the bus window as we had done so many times on our night travels in NYC. Mom, if only you knew how much I still think about you every week, every day, and every hour.How I wish I could get a sign from you. Was that you last night when the proch light that had been out for sometime suddenly turned on? Or has it just been temperamental on other occasions? But I was very happy to have a vivid dream about you last night. Perhaps because I'd been thinking about you all day as it was the third anniversary of your passing. Perhaps it was because of the porch light. Or the full moon which was shining through the windows facing the back yard. Whatever it was, I dreamt that I was working in the yard one sunny afternoon. Then suddenly, I saw you waving and heard you calling "I"m home": and I was so surprised as if I didn't expect to see you at all. And so you did too when you gave me a big hug, showing me a few yummy items you had bought. It reminded me of the moment in The Sound of Music, my favorite childhood movie, where the kids suddenly see Maria again after searching for her at every abbey. (Maybe if I sing "My favorite things," mom will return?) As if I didn't know you had already died. Or had that occurred? (Sometimes it's hard to tell in dreams.) You looked so spruced up, dressed in a yellow sweater and white skirt. Some of the people from the Taiwanese ASS-ociation showed up and they were surprised to see you too. At any rate, I had paperwork to do that evening but I was so overjoyed to see you that I didn't mind. At least you would be with me by my side. I don't know when I realized I was dreaming but it was the most soothing one I'd had in a very long time, helping me drift further into sleep (I think).It wasn't until several hours later as I was waking up that I realized it was all a dream.I found myself in tears...something I hadn't done in a long time after a dream about mom. How I wish I could see her again so badly. How I could get a hug from her. I thought I was healing?! Mom, there is now only one thing I wish for:that we will be reunited one day. I don't know how, when, or if that will take place. I want to be happy like all those other occasions when you picked me up at the airport or train station. Or when I waited for you at the bus station. Or those other occasions when I was so relieved to see you like when you returned home from Taiwan. Or even those times we bumped into each other unexpectedly at the mall. Life without you has been so incomplete: no wonder our meetings together are always happy, however brief. Only you can make me whole again, Mom. I long for a time that we will never be separated again-- and you will be my side forever. A time when we will never worry about illness, departure, or anything else.
  11. Loss of a parent - daily thread

    Athina and Eliz, I don't want to give either of you the impression that nothing ever changes or improves--or that you will feel miserable forever. It all depends on your individual circumstances. I know it hurts tremendously right now, only a few months after the passing of your moms. It's only natural. But I think one way of making your grief feel a little more manageable is remembering that both of you have husbands who love you and wonderful children to boot. This can make all the difference. I have never liked kids myself but after my mom died, I found myself wishing I had a few of my own just so I could look at them and trace out mom's genes. Maybe if I had a little piece of mom in a child--her eyes, her nose, her temperament, her wit, I would feel that life was definitely worth living. As such, I can't help but think it is a good opportunity for bonding more closely with your children. Here, I think of my relationship with my own mom after the death of her mother in 1992. I still remember the night when she got a call from one of her sisters in Taiwan telling her her mom had died. I absolutely deplore my own insensitivity at that time: mom wanted me to sleep with her but I didn't--just because I hate sleeping with others. I so regret that now--even though my mom and I sometimes shared rooms together later on our trips and certainly during her last year after the stroke. But at that time, I selfishly said no. In fact, I even wondered if she had to go back to Taiwan--after all, she had just returned home. But I did understand when she said she had to. No one misses the funeral of her own mother! When mom returned from Taiwan, she looked no different: yet, now, having read so many experiences from mothers here missing their own moms, i'm beginning to wonder if I didn't miss anything. Did I assume mom got over it because she lunched and shopped with me right after her return? Shared laughs? Or did she secretly cry herself to sleep without my knowing it? Or were her ties to me and my dad just naturally stronger so that her mother's death did not overwhelm her--especially since she'd been away from her mother for several decades except for a visit every 5 years? (Remember that my mom was my one and only one....and there is no one to buffer the loss in any way) At the same time, I like to believe that mom did share a great deal of happiness with me afterwards: our relationship became much stronger over the course of the 1990s when I turned 30. She did not get to travel with her own mother, but she traveled with me and I have reason to believe that she enjoyed herself when we tried new pastries, got excited over bargains, tried on different outfits, and marvelled over breathtaking scenery and architecture. I know mom enjoyed many of our intellectual discussions and bawdy talk too; I can still remember our giggles and sometimes ringing laughter. And of course, I know she shared a lot of my personal and professional triumphs. I myself came to be much more aware and sensitive of her needs, particularly as she aged. When she felt uncomfortable in any way I tried to comfort her as best I could. At the end, Mom may have lost a mother, but she certainly gained a daughter. As such, I hope you mothers--Athina, Eliz, and others here--will also begin to relish life with your children. Your moms were great to you, and you will be great to your children. You will create your own memories. Eliz, I know you mentioned something about travelling--and I hope you get to do it with your daughter. I hope you will share as many happy memories as me and my mom. Athina, I do the same thing you do--categorize my clothes, makeup, and other belongings by phases in my mom's life. And not just material things--but recollections of events and music. Yes, it really does sound exceptionally silly, but this intensity is only proof of our extreme devotion. It just goes to prove how involved they were in our lives. Right now, my one antidote to depression over mom is telling myself to "be like mom." Mom always did her work, regardless of circumstances. I tell myself to do just that. (OK, back to work!)
  12. Loss of a parent - daily thread

    Hello, All--Eve, May, Eliz, Athina,, Mission, Reader, Cindy Jane, The Girl, and others I may have missed It's been a while since I've been here and I can assure you for good reason: less than a week after my dad arrived back from rehab, I wound up in the hospital myself--the first time EVER for me. My left foot was hurting so badly that I ended up taking a cab to the ER in no more than a nightgown and bathrobe. Turned out I had cellulitis and a fever to boot. All of this was further complicated by my dingbat dad and an oncoming blizzard. I had told my dad to answer the phone....which he did not. After several hours, I called his nurse who told me to call the cops. The nurse convinced them to send my dad to ER since there was no one to take care of him at home. This really screwed things up since I needed someone to be home to feed the cats on Tuesday and Wednesday. As it was, given the threat of an 18" snowfall on Tuesday, I had to beg the docs to discharge me early. If only my dad had answered the phone, I would not have to worry and he would not have been sent to the hospital--and I could have taken my own sweet time to recover. And btw, yes, I'm still furious about my dad for not fighting his younger brother for his share of the inheritance. Seriously, only someone who didn't care about the welfare of his child/ren would do such a thing. I'm sorry, but there's just no excuse. If you have a male appendage, you should FIGHT TO THE GILLS. After all, mom and I always fought anything we found unfair or unjust. I once spent 3 weeks fighting to get $800 back from a hotel....and another 2 weeks for $300 from our moving company: successfully too! My mom would always call up to contest late fees (even though they were deserved, LOL!). I am angrier than ever before at the fact that this asshole sent a good deal of money--$200-300 a month every month for 20 years to his father and step-mother--and DIDN'T GET ONE PENNY OF THIS BACK. Talk about POOR INVESTMENT SKILLS! Meanwhile the same shitforbrains used to talk as though I used his money on college and grad school. NO, YOUR PHUCKING PARENTS SPENT ALL OUR MONEY. AND WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE PARENT SPENDS MORE ON HIS PARENTS THAN HIS OWN CHILD, AN ONLY CHILD? He spent at least today's equivalent of $600,000 on his crappy LOW-CLASS policeman and teacher scumbag parents, the same ones who encouraged him to cheat on mom. So, yes I have every right to be ticked off at him: unless someone wants to pay our bills, they have no right expostulating with me. I HAVE EVERY REASON TO BE ANGRY! At this point, I do not want to pay for his ashes....as far as I'm concerned they should be dumped in a landfill, where they belong! By refusing to fight for me, he has essentially put me in the dumper--and this is after years of his pisspoor parenting: one that has damaged me thoroughly. HONESTLY, WHAT DO I OWE HIM? We need this money so badly...it's not even for me anymore, but for his nursing. Because of this we might have to sell the house. Unfortunately, my dimwit dad never considered this when his younger brother took everything....chances are my dad was too busy sleeping w/ his kunt cousin to care. All of this makes me more depressed than ever. I want mom so badly it hurts....she was the only one who cared for me. I still remember her telling one of my aunts to make sure I got a share of her mom's property even though the chances it will be sold are very slim. Yet, that was mom. I happened to read an article on What's Your Grief and found a very interesting one about yearning....before realizing immediately that it described my feelings to a T. I have always yearned for the past, possibly because I was much happier then. Back then, I suppose, there was still hope. And now that mom has passed, I long for the past even more. I can't help but think how my Tuesday and Thursday mornings--the days I go to NYC to teach--begin with a ride past the hospital where my mom died. I gaze at it, thinking to myself "If you are still there in spirit, mom, God bless you, I love you so much." As I'm heading home from NYC in the evening, I think of our years there all over again as we pass by the George Washington bridge. I think of the times we passed it at night when I was growing up in the Bronx, with the twinkling lights and stars still up above as I looked through the windows of our Vokswagen....I reminisce over the picnics we had there with my cousins in the evenings; and as I see a sign for Jerome Avenue in the Bronx, I look out at the buildings, knowing that my old apartment is tucked somewhere in there. I think of the times when we were so happy....when mom was in the kitchen as I played with my dolls....when she read to me....when she sang to me in bed in my toddler years...when we watched TV together. And now, here I am, 40 years later, seeing the same sights and heading back home but without Mom. As I arrive back in Hartford, I inevitably think of our more recent past....the time Mom and I took the very same bus home in March 2008 on a Monday evening. How long ago that seems...I think of the times when mom picked me up at the train station in 2013....and now there is no one to pick me up. On the cab ride home, I think to myself how mom and I passed the hospital many times but never thought anything of it, probably because she had never been there for her own issues. Then when I'm back home, I'm happy to see my cats....the only thing that's missing sorely is mom. Sometimes, I'll be reminded of England--or Europe when I hear a song from the 80s and 90s. If it's from the 90s, I think of all our jaunts to London. Random songs from my college summers recall our times in Salzburg. Sometimes, I'll think of our visits to the various Viennese delis when I'm eating a coldcut sub. And now it's coming up on the anniversary of my mom's first stroke. Funny, how it happened 3 years ago, but I still remember some of the days before the event so clearly. I still remember all the hope and enthusiasm I felt when I turned in the first chapter of my textbook. And just the other day, I found a Lowe's receipt from June 4, 2014: exactly 4 months before she passed. Couldn't help but remember what a happy day June 4 was, little realizing she would disappear so quickly. I remember it was a day right after I had successfully fought to get my class back; my mom was so thrilled for me. On the 4th, we all went down to mom's rehab for her health check; I remember feeling just a tad apprehensive, worrying that she might have to stay there again if there was something wrong. It was the same day that I finally received a cat bag that I ordered....mom wanted it so much I let her have it even though I wanted it myself. I remember how we got a ride that afternoon from one of the Taiwanese when they brought us to Lowe's where we bought a fan and some bottled water. We were so glad to be back home that evening--and I felt especially thankful that I still had mom. I told myself that I would make her as healthy as possible. Three years have come and gone. It seems as though little has changed. I can't help but look back because I am so unhappy--never knowing if I am going to finish that textbook. Never knowing how our finances will hold up. I am so scared and need mom more than ever. All I have are memories...
  13. Loss of a parent - daily thread

    Welcome back, Eve! And hello to our circle of friends--Missionblue, May, Lisa, Athina, Reader, Eliz, and probably a few more.... Eve, I was not initially going to reply because I am so busy: dad is returning home tomorrow and there is still so much I have to do. But those sock monkeys are so adorable! Like New133, I marvel at your willingness to pursue an activity that is so associated with your mom! There are times when I finish a project and think to myself, mom would be so proud! I feel the same here. These are so amazing! Your mom would be beaming.
  14. Hello Sweetisabelle, idontknow, and Athina--let me offer my condolences to you. I can't even begin to imagine how horrible I would feel if I were a student rather than a faculty member experiencing a death of a parent. Let me just begin by saying that my own mother died during the middle of a term, back in fall 2014.Although my first impulse was to quit, I did not; in fact, I got back into the swing of things the day after her passing. I also had a paper to present at another college later that week. However, the challenges for students and faculty are anything but the same; you are all building your foundations so it's especially important to be on the right foot. I hope you've thought about Reader's suggestions. Have either of you gone to see a grief counselor on campus? I think this is a good place to begin--as well as paying a visit to your college advisor. Perhaps you can sit down together and decide whether your current course lineup is realistic for what you're sustaining right now. It goes without saying that grief is a huge load. If there is a course that you think will bring back more triggers or pangs than you can bear at the moment, you might want to think about dropping it this term. And if you think at all that your work might be compromised, sometimes a leave of absence can help. I bring this up because I had a foreign student who took one of my classes last year before losing her mom towards the end of the term. I remember asking her if she really wanted to take my class because she had already missed the first 10 weeks; that was already a lot even without her mom's illness. (IMO, she should not have taken it in the first place.) If you have trouble keeping up with a class, it's going to be even worse when you are going through bereavement. Anyway, no one has any right to decide for you. If you think you can weather it, go right ahead. But if in doubt, take it at your own pace.
  15. Loss of a parent - daily thread

    Hello, All--Lisa K, May, Mission, Eliz, Athina, Reader, Cindy Jane, Dgiirl, Jackie, and probably a few I have inadvertently missed-- Lisa, I hope everything will turn out OK for you. I wish the best for you on your surgery....I know I'd be scared too. We will all be here for you. May, I love songs from the 70s and late 60s--and have found myself listening to a lot these past few years. They're kind of wistful for me, as they remind me of my happier past in NYC when mom was still around. I love the Carpenters ' songs "Superstar" and "Top of the World". The first one, kind of sad and bittersweet, was one of my faves growing up....today, it helps me picture our small apartment where mom was never far away. These days, I choke up when I hear this part: Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby You said you'd be coming back this way again baby Baby, baby, baby, baby, oh, baby, I love you I really do Loneliness is a such a sad affair And I can hardly wait to be with you again What to say to make you come again Come back to me again And play your sad guitar I also remember "Nights in White Satin" (a sad song that was a hit when mom was in the hospital), but I also l like "California Dreamin," Downtown (reminds me of all those great days mom and I went down to Manhattan), "Windy," " Georgy Girl," and a song by the Cowsills "The Rain, the part, and other things" Well, back to the present. It's a beautiful, warmish, sunny day today. And it also happens to be what would have been my mom's 85th birthday: yes, she shares the exact same birthday w/ Liz Taylor, who died even younger than my mom. They must have been passing out the looks on that day, because my mom was quite the beauty too (see my gallery of pics). Too bad she didn't get the acting talent! I remember thinking to myself when I had first heard of Liz's death, look at mom--so hale and hearty. She'll last well into her 90s. 85 will be nothing at all. Little did I ever expect to lose her at the age of 82 and 7 months. Even younger than her own mother who was obese. I can't help but think how our future was cut tragically short. I know there are others of you who've lost your moms at even earlier ages....but I guess we never have time enough with our moms. I remember thinking that as soon as dad kicked off, being the perpetual bother, nuisance, castrated POS that he was, mom and I would have a much easier life. No more strange hours for mom to accommodate herself. No more last minute drag racing for mom because dad didn't get up in time for his appointment. No more countless reminders to dad. Eliz, I was going to do just what you were planning too. Mom and I were going to book a cruise or train travel as soon as I sent that book off to the publishers. I was going to buy her a new wardrobe. We were going to enjoy a peaceful life together. We would finally get the life we deserved and that we waited for so long and so patiently! But, of course, it didn't happen that way. I got stuck with the crappy parent--my dad. The parent who never behaved like a parent. Most of you who've been here long enough know my feelings about my dad--how I hated him for screwing up my education and career, cheating on mom, and on a being a generally financially irresponsible parent. Well, yesterday, I got further confirmation of this-- as is any more were necessary at this point. One of his relatives--an uncle whom I remember fondly from our days in the Bronx--contacted me yesterday. He actually thought dad was at home, but I explained the situation. Anyway, I learned a lot of interesting things....it turns out that when my paternal grandmother died and left the property to her 3 kids--dad, his sister, and younger brother--the latter took ALL of it. My dad never got his share--and he was too chicken to contest him. FOR GOD'S SAKE, HE WAS THE OLDEST BROTHER! WHAT A Phucking measly, NODICK ahole--NO WONDER HE WAS ALWAYS WEAK AND SICK growing up! HIS PARENTS SHOULD HAVE JUST LET HIM DIE! A WEAK MALE IS A USELESS MALE AS FAR AS I SEE IT! Anyway, his younger sister died a decade after the grandmother....so now the youngest son is using his parents' house as a medical facility for a son or son-in-law (also a doctor). In other words, he is using it for himself without paying any rent. WHY IS IT THAT EVERY FATHER I KNOW KNOWS HOW TO LOOK OUT FOR THE INTERESTS OF HIS SONS AND DAUGHTERS AND MINE COULD NOT BE BOTHERED? Right now, we are owed a substantial 6-digit figure. My dad always assumed that his brother would give him a share because he's become quite wealthy as a doctor himself....that alone should show how dumb and naive my dad is. (Just because he's a a pansy himself doesn't mean every one else is a pansy too.) My loser dad does not have the common sense to realize that THE WEALTHIER SOMEONE IS, THE GREEDIER THAT PERSON WILL BE. Right now, I hate my dad so mcuh for not having claimed his share....he only wanted to make himself look good, i.e., not greedy, without caring about MY futur! What's even worse is that my dad himself had also given his parents $200-300 EVERY MONTH when they were still alive--and that was between the 1960s and 1980, when $200-300 a month was worth about $1300 today. And meanwhile, that shitt-for-brains had the gall to push me to apply to the best universities before ultimately denying me the chance to go when I did get in. PHUCK YOU DAD FOR SENDING ME TO S. college, NOT U.C. BERKELEY, which is a world class institution. (My college is just as good.....but in academe, as is true everywhere else, popular reputation matters!) It's like he wanted to screw me out of EVERYTHING IN LIFE! And here, I have to WASTE TIME. going to see this phucker in hospitals and rehab. HE SHOULD JUST DIE! THAT'S HOW HE TREATED ME AND MOM! NOT CARING ABOUT OUR FINANCIAL SECURITY! Just contrast the way that mom wanted to make sure I would get a part of her mom's property. She talked about it on a weekly basis. Yes, it's true, MY MOM WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO EVER CARED FOR MY PERSONAL AND FINANCIAL WELL BEING. I AM DONE VISITING HIM! HE DIDN'T CARE ABOUT ME. WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT HIM? To those of you who lost your fatherS....I honestly wish I could trade mine with yours. I wish mine were buried and yours still with you. At least, yours fought tooth and nail for you all the way as a TRUE parent, father, and family provider. All of your fathers probably supported you in your every endeavour, fought for your inheritance, didn't cheat on your moms. Mine was only a sperm donor and leech. If I can find a way of not paying for his burial or dumping his ashes down the toilet, I will do so. I don't want his ashes mingled with mine or my mom's.