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Augustgirl

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  1. I can really relate to a lot of what you have said. My dad died last October and many of the same thoughts have gone through my head too. At his funeral I looked at his coffin and I thought about how awful he would be feeling in there, in such a cool, dark space, feeling claustrophobic and unable to move. Rationally, I know that he's dead and can't have these thoughts, but it didn't stop me from thinking them. I just wanted to get him out of the coffin to somewhere lighter and brighter! We cremated my Dad and when we buried his ashes I also thought about how lonely he would be feeling stuck six feet under in a cemetery of dead people with no one to talk to and without his family. I would feel guilty walking away from his grave after a visit as though I was abandoning him. Another aspect that I've found quite distressing is not knowing what happens to a person when they die. I'm not religious so I don't believe people go to heaven or that there's some kind of afterlife. I don't believe we ever get to see our loved ones again. I really wish I did, but I just don't. The thought that my Dad is simply 'nothing' now is so difficult to accept and I feel a physical pain in my chest when I think about it. If I knew that there was some kind of afterlife where my Dad was surrounded by people and love, even if I never got to see him again, I could deal with his death more easily. Sadly, I believe he's lying under a pile of soil, alone and in the dark,with no thoughts, feelings or happiness. It's now almost seven months since I lost my Dad and these irrational feelings seem to have mostly gone. They've been an important part of the grieving process so far. Allow yourself to have these thoughts. It's been beneficial to post my 'irrational' thoughts on this site and I found that there were quite a few others who had similar feelings. It's very normal.
  2. its harder then ever

    Casey Mae, I'm so sorry for your loss. I can relate so much to what you've said about just feeling so lost without your mother. I lost my dad in October last year and I too feel completely lost. He was my guide. I am so overwhelmed when I think about how much he has already missed out on and will continue to miss. I'm also in my late twenties and I wonder how I'm supposed to live (potentially) another 60 years without him in it. Without my dad knowing if I ever got married, or ever had children, or where I lived and what career I ended up doing. He took such an interest in my life - his family were his world - and he didn't want to go in the slightest. He wasn't ready. It breaks my heart thinking about how he felt when the doctors told him he would die within hours. He knew he would never get to see all his children again and say goodbye. The loss of a parent hurts far more than I could have imagined. I always knew it would be awful, but I didn't know that the intensity of the loss l feel could run so deeply and be so painful. I feel emotions that I didn't even know existed. My heart breaks. Be good to yourself, Casey Mae. I think we grieve in some ways for the rest of our lives. It is a reflection of how much the person we lost has meant to us. We can't fill the space left by them and nor should we try to.
  3. Untiltomorrow, I'm so sorry for your loss. 16 years is such a long time to have already spent without a loved one. I struggle to comprehend that I may live 60 years of my life without my Dad being physically in it. You said that sometimes the person you lost can feel like a figment of your imagination. It devestates me to know that this will likely happen to my memories of my Dad. It's only been five months and I worry already that I will begin to forget part of my Dad - the way he spoke, his mannerisms, his laugh, the advice he would give me. The pain now is heartbreaking, but at least the memories are still fresh. Do you have any advice to share on preserving memories? Athina, I completely agree with what you said about life feeling as though it's divided into two parts - life when your Mom was alive and life when your Mom is dead. I think of all the milestones ahead of me - a first home, marriage, and children and I get a physical ache in my chest when I think that my Dad will not only not be there for any of it, but he will never even know that these things have happened. I know that if he was alive he would be proud of me, but he's not alive, so he doesn't have those feelings of pride. I find the knowledge that my Dad can never actually be proud of anything I do very hard. Achieving goals seems so much harder without the biggest cheerleader in your life having faith in you. You also mention too, Athina, that you can't bear looking at photos of happy times with your Mom. I feel the same way when looking at photos of my Dad. I'm still too focused on his death and his last few days alive to find comfort in happy memories. I even feel a sense of guilt for leaving my Dad's dead body in the hospital. I feel like we abandoned him as though we didn't care for him. In my mind, he felt completely alone lying dead in the hospital, unloved, and hurt that his family would just leave him behind. Rationally, I know that this is a ridiculous thought, but it's one of a few irrational feelings I've had since my Dad's death that I expect is part of the grieving process.
  4. My Dad died about five months ago now. When I look back I can't believe how quickly time has passed. Time hasn't yet started healing the hurt. For me, for the first two or three months I felt quite numb, like it wasn't my Dad who had died, but some other person and I was watching from a distance. It's started to sink in more now. At times I can feel quite at peace knowing that my Dad is not suffering. At other times I feel a depth of despair that I didn't know existed when I think that he's not doing something, somewhere. It distresses me because his not doing anything confirms that he has ceased to be. I could cope more easily with the fact that I will never see or speak with him again if I at least thought he was somewhere else - happy, living and breathing, even if I never got to see him again. Every now and then I have this extreme depth of realisation of what death actually is. The enormity of never ever being able to speak or see my Dad again hits me like a ton of bricks. I can't breathe for a few seconds and I feel physically sick. It then washes over me and I'm calmer, and I tell myself I will get through this - billions of people before me have. I also find this length of time after my Dad's death to be difficult because so many people who have not lost a parent expect me to be over it. Friends don't ask how I'm doing anymore when it's actually harder now than it was two months ago, no one wants to talk about my Dad while I wish I could talk about him all the time. I truly never understood the depth of pain that losing a parent would cause until it happened.
  5. BeniGirl, I can relate to so much of what you've said. I, too, want to call my Dad to share news and then I remember that he's dead, and I can't. I think that because his death was so sudden, it is taking a while for the full enormity of it all to sink in. Yes, at his funeral I was well aware that he was dead inside the coffin in front of me, but I still felt like I would see him again sometime later and we'd chat about his funeral and the people that came. Even now, four months on, it still feels like he's alive sometimes, and we've just not had a chance to catch up in a while. I lived quite far from him when he died so I was used to not seeing him every single day. I've built another life where I am and as he wasn't part of my daily life here, life hasn't changed too much which makes it harder to comprehend that he's dead and not at home pottering around. How long has the death of a parent taken to truly sink in for other people?
  6. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, ladybird1982. I, too, have found little confort when people have told me that my Dad lives on through me. I also just want him to be here in the flesh where I can see him, speak to him, listen to his words of wisdom. I cannot comprehend that he literally does not know of the world he lived in anymore. He has no conscious so he does not know me, or my Mum or any other family member anymore. He's not in his grave, or anywhere else, thinking about us and wondering what we're up to. He has no thoughts or memory of his life. He does not know anymore that I am his daughter. For me, this is so difficult to accept. It's heartbreaking. The only comfort I find in this is that it is not for enternity, but only until I die when I also won't know life. I really wish I believed in some form of life after death, that at some point we'll be reunited with the people we love most in the world, but I don't - I just don't.
  7. It's coming up to the three month mark since my Dad's death, and although it is still early days, I'm no closer to comprehending that whatever remains of my Dad is literally buried under several feet of soil. Similarly, at his funeral, I couldn't comprehend that in that dark, tiny space inside the wooden coffin was my Dad, so still and silent. As bizarre as it sounds, I couldn't help but think he'd be feeling claustraphobic and lonely in there. I sometimes have the same thought when I think about him buried under six feet of soil in the cemetery. The past few months have been surreal. Almost as though it's someone else's Dad who has died and I'm watching from a far. The first month I was in such shock that I barely cried, not even at the funeral. At times I find it easy to put his death to the back of my mind as though it hasn't happened at all. I think this is part of still not being able to comprehend that he's gone forever and will never meet my future husband or his future grandkids. I truly wonder how we are expected to live the rest of our lives without the most important person being there. It's a hugely overwhelming thought that I can only hope becomes easier to accept in time.
  8. I'm starting to forget.

    My Dad died in October and, although his death is still very recent, I also worry that I will forget him. I worry that I'll not remember his reassuring voice when he would give me advice, or how he would make a fist pump when he was excited, or how lovingly he talked about his grandchildren. I worry that with time these memories will fade. I tell myself that they can't fade, they shouldn't be allowed to fade, as it is all I have left of him. If I don't have memories of him, I don't have anything - he's gone forever, both physically and in my mind. It's an incredibly destressing thought. I have photographs of my Dad that I look at everyday, but I don't want these photographs to be the only memories I have of him in ten, twenty years time. I feel that the more I look at them, the more the events from these photograph are imprinted in my mind and the less I can recall other memories. To me it's like I'm caught in a catch 22. I want to look at photos of my Dad, but the more I do the fewer other memories I can recall. I think it's important to talk to people who knew our loved ones and share memories. Often others can jog our memories or fill in the gaps.
  9. I'm so sorry for all your loses. It really is true when people say that nothing can prepare you for the death of someone you love and the absolute, unnegotiable finality of it. Comprehending that there's no solution, not even a minisucle one, to my Dad's death is more difficult than I knew possible. Rationally, I know nothing can bring him back to life, but comprehending that this is it, the absolute end, is beyond my grasp - that no matter what anyone says or does, in any way, shape or form will not change the fact that my Dad is dead and buried under several feet on soil and never, ever coming back. Even though I watched as my Dad's ashes were poured into the ground, I can't quite grasp that the grey dusty particles are literally the hands that my Dad held me with as a child, and that those particles are made up of his brain, the actual brain he used to think, feel and teach with. How can something so familiar to me, and something that did so much to help people, now be just dust?
  10. Thank you all for your replies. I think it will take me a long while yet to come to terms with my Dad's death, but your responses have helped. I've lost my teacher, my guide, and my leader, the person who knew the answer to all life's hiccups. At times I feel at peace knowing that my Dad, as simply 'ashes in the ground,' never has to feel a painful or sad emotion again, and at other times, I still can't quite believe that some who loved life so much can no longer feel the happiness and joy life can bring. I find that so incredibly sad and heartbreaking. He wasn't by any means ready to go. I often still can't quite comprehend that he's gone.
  11. I lost my Dad last October very suddenly, but I still can't comprehend that he's really gone. To think that he's never coming back and that I'll never spend a second with him again is more than my brain can handle. I'm not religious or spiritual so I don't believe that we'll meet again one day and I don't believe that he's looking down on me. In some ways I wish I did believe this as it may make coping with his death easier. I believe that when my Dad died that was it for him. He ceased to exist. Yes, he exists in people's memories, but that is all. Physically, he's a pile of ashes buried under a few feet of soil. I can't comprehend that his body is no more, that his body isn't just 'somewhere else'. He has no idea what I'm now doing in life and never ever will, he does not think, breath or feel. The second he died he ceased to be. How do other people who don't have religious or spiritual beliefs cope with the death of a parent or loved one? Does anyone have advice on coming to terms with the belief that the person who died is in fact now no more than particles in the soil? That their soul does not continue on existing somewhere else?
  12. Four months ago I accepted my dream job overseas. I'm now living on the other side of the world to my family in a remote location hundreds of miles from the closest city. My wonderful dad suddenly passed away in October very unexpectedly. I flew home for the funeral and stayed a few more weeks to help out my mom. I'm now back in my new home and I'm finding it very difficult to grieve. I'm single so I don't have a partner to talk things through with and I have no kids. I also don't have any true friends here yet as I haven't been here long enough. Whilst I know a few people, I don't know them well enough to be able to talk to them about how I'm feeling. No one has asked me how I'm doing either - I think it's uncomfortable for them to try and comfort someone they barely know. I try to call friends that are far away, but they lead busy lives and most have very young children so can't devote more than a couple of minutes at a time to me. I feel that I'm not expressing my feelings enough. I'm getting on with my life, I'm out trying to make friends and I'm enjoying my job - it's almost like I haven't lost my sad at all. I'm worried that I'm not grieving enough or that I'm in denial about my dad's death because I have no one to talk to about it. I'm afraid that because I can't express my feeling aloud, I'm bottling them up which will lead to a huge explosion of unhealthy emotion later on. I've looked for support groups and counsellors in the area but they don't exist here. Can anyone offer advice on how to grieve in a healthy way in my situation?
  13. My Dad died in October very unexpectedly. He was working and healthy right up until his death from cancer which was diagnosed only five days before he died. My mum is now a widow. All of her three children live overseas and have built good lives and careers in different places with great support from both my mum, and my dad before he died. Whilst I love my life overseas, I can't bear the thought that my mum is now alone in the country with no family there at all, not even extended family and that we can't just hop on a plane for the weekend to see her. I imagine she's incredibly lonely all of a sudden and it breaks my heart. Moving back home is not an option for me at the moment due to financial/family reasons and my mum is too elderly to move to be with me or my siblings and start over again in a new country. How have others coped with leaving their only parent behind knowing how incredibly lonely they are?
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