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Found 68 results

  1. I lost my father on February 21st... it shocks me to think that was almost a month ago now. My father was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gerig's disease) about three and a half years ago, so his death was not sudden. It was painfully slow to watch him slowly become paralyzed, immobile in a wheelchair and to loose his capacity to communicate verbally. The past three years as I have been completing college and starting my job search, I've been living and bouncing back to my home town to be a part time and full time caregiver for my father as his body started to fail. The past 3.5 years have been very emotionally difficult for me and I almost feel like I have been grieving for all these years as I watched him slowly loose his bodily functions. Emotionally things have gotten a lot worse for me in the last month. I recently relocated away from my hometown with my boyfriend. I have many different factors that are affecting my emotions; I am very stressed about job searching, being unemployed, lack of income, lack of validation through work, lack of social outlets. I spend a lot of time home alone applying for jobs. I am starting to feel estranged from my partner because I feel like I can't talk to him about my grief because he has not lost a parent, or another close family member. My foundation of grief make all of my emotions amplified and difficult to understand all of the various stresses and emotions I feel. I often feel that most people can't or don't understand what it is like to loose a father so young. I am 23 and he was 49 when he passed. Many adults I know still have not lost their parents. I have always felt the misunderstanding surrounding my father because of the nature of his disease, I feel that I have uniquely painful experience that makes me feel further isolated. The worse thing is, is that I really don't know how I can make things better except for staying strong and moving forward. I have trouble crying (especially in front of people), but I always feel better when I do. Often times my feelings get to messed up in my head, I can't put them to words. Sometimes I bottle my feelings up and lash out at my partner because I can't really seem to communicate well. This makes me question my relationship and question many aspects of my life because I don't know if its grief or another factors that is causing my unhappiness. i know that it is the grief, but it makes everything so much harder. Like many of you, I have lots of issues sleeping. Often times I can't get the final images of him out of my head. I spent his final three days by his side while at home he was on hospice, and some of those images will stay will me for the rest of my life. I tell everyone that he died peacefully in his sleep, but I question it myself. I try to think of him when he was happy and healthy, but sometimes that just makes it worse. Recently, I have such a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that though he body was failing, his spirit was alive and happy. He had his good days and bad while he was sick, but he was generally positive and the wonderful man I will always love. But then at the drop a hat, his body decided to shut down...and that spirit just left. One minute it was there, the next it wasn't. Immediately after he passed, I was relieved and happy for him. His body was his burden, it caged his spirit. I was happy that he had found peace outside of his physical form. But I still can't process this boundary between tangible and intangible that I keep banging my head against. I miss him dearly every day, and I know I will never stop missing him. He will always be the best daddy ever, and I will always be his little girl. Due to the fact he couldn't talk, the last communication I received from him was a text message a month before he passed...I miss his voice and I wish I could hear him again. Thank you all for listening. This is the first time I have turned to a forum to talk. Any advice, comments, stories, etc. are very welcome.
  2. I've never really posted on any forums about something so personal. (Sorry if this is incomprehensible, it turned into venting about my feelings) Before Christmas, I found my father lying dead in the bathroom in the flat where I grew up during my teenage years. For days I was so sure that I was never going to stop seeing that image when i closed my eyes, but sure enough I manage to move on day by day. He was my last living parent, my mother committed suicide when I was a baby, and I knew the day was coming because he was a seasonal binge drinking alcoholic who couldn't handle that his only daughter was growing up and becoming independent. But it had to be right then and not in a few years time. I thought that I could hold on to the anger to keep myself going, even if it's unhealthy. I'm in my final year of university. I was/am so angry that he would do this to me, at a time when I needed him the most. When i needed a shoulder to cry on about exams or post grad jobs or... anything. But the initial shock has worn out, and university has started again. I decided to stay on and not take a year out because i'm only 5-6 months away from getting a degree. I could get it over with and continue with my life. Delaying for ANOTHER year would mean another helping of student loan to pay back in the future, and extending my already long degree. I have days where I think "maybe I'm making the wrong choice" but most of the time I feel stubborn and so sure of myself that I can do this, because I have managed to overcome so much while only being 23 years old. I could have turned out so much worse, everyone kept implying before the day of the funeral. At the moment, I do feel confident (slightly) that I can continue on with my work at university and get my degree. And while I've read books and forums on grief, saying that i need to take it slow and take care of myself (which i am trying so very hard), i'm not sure how to... measure how I'm coping. It's not like there's a checklist. While it seems like my entire family knows about the death (and they do), very few people outside of that group know. Online friends know, my best friends (4 of them) know and my tutors at uni know... but that's it. I don't feel compelled to tell others, it's not exactly their business... but I feel as if it's the better thing to do. Like as if, nothing has changed to the world because my father died, and that only i feel the change. Which is obviously untrue as my uncles of course feel pain at the loss of their brother. I don't want to tell anyone really. When you grow up without a mum, you already have so much sympathy directed towards you... so much so that it can feel like you're being pitied... It's like I know that I'm currently fragile, but I don't want anyone to treat me as if they need to walk on eggshells (which actually... they do seeing as I'm prone to snap at people once a week). How can i possibly explain how it feels to have no living parents to someone who's always had a happy parent-child relationship. While it's only been a month, and the process of grief is a long and hard road, and initial feelings are obviously very complex and hard to explain (as can be seen by the above...), I just wondered how have other people coped in the initial first months? Did you start anything new to distract yourself? Did you find any books/anything helpful? I reached out to counseling agencies but.... long waiting lists combined with little money means waiting for a long time...
  3. It's been over a year since my dad put a gun to his head and sprayed his brains all over the house that I grew up in. I wasn't there when it happened, but just knowing that it happened that way haunts me constantly. My father had survived cancer, and fought with that for most of my life, so I thought he could survive anything. I never knew how sad he was, and now that I have been slapped in the face with it, I can't shake this terrible feeling. I feel like I wasn't a good enough daughter to him. Like i failed him because i thought he was stronger than he was. Like most little girls, I grew up idolizing my dad. Thinking of him as a super hero. A rock. An unstoppable force who was going to be by my side and in my life forever. But that was not the case. He left me in a blood-stained memory, and all I can do is think about him. Everything comes back to that phone call I got saying he was gone. There are so many days where I feel all I can do is cry and think about every moment I ever spent with him. Some days I'm just bitter and pissed off about everything and I want to punch everyone in the face who's having a better time than I am. I think about his death constantly. I dream about it. And I have become so dependent on substances to fade away the reality of everything, when I try not to drink or smoke, I end up feeling everything 100 times stronger. I just want to be numb. I want to stop feeling all of this. I feel too much at once, and I just hate how much this event has taken over my life. I loved my dad more than anything. He was always the one I could talk to when things weren't going well, or the first person I'd want to call when everything was going great! I have no one now, or at least it feels that way. I am not the same person I was before his suicide, and the people who love me might not love this new me. They might only love the old me, and she's never coming back. it was two weeks before my 25th birthday when it happened. Everything near his death date is tainted. My birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas. I don't want any of it anymore, because it will never be the same. All I ever wanted was for my father to see me succeed. And I'll never get that chance. He died knowing I was a loser. He died knowing I hadn't become anyone yet. That I hadn't done anything with my life. Well, I'm doing something now. At least, I'm trying. I'm trying to get my art out there. I'm trying to get my life in order. I've quit smoking for over 5 months now (and I want to break down every minute of every day and smoke, but I'm staying strong). He'll never get to see the woman I'm becoming. It tears me up inside when I realize everything he's missing. And then I just start to get angry, because there are so many times when I've wanted to give up on everything. But I haven't. I'm still here. I'm still here fighting with my own pain, and now on top of it, I'm fighting with his, too. It's so much weight for one set of shoulders to carry, but I'm doing my damnedest.
  4. I have never posted on a site like this before but I am really struggling and looking for some help or advice. My biological father, who I never got the chance to meet, died by suicide over the summer. I found out about his passing only two weeks after it happened through a google search of his name since I wanted to try to find a picture of him to show my significant other. I always assumed I would be able to meet him and share my life with him someday, but the choice is no longer mine. He made the decision for me when he took his own life and I am very sad and angry about it. I don't know how I am supposed to grieve for someone I never got the chance to meet, much less how I am supposed to grieve for someone I never got the chance to meet who committed suicide. I feel as if I am grieving for him as a person as well as grieving for the relationship we never got to have and now never will.
  5. I wish I knew exactly where to start with all this and that everyone could have known my dad because he was truly the greatest man I have ever known besides my husband. My dad passed away 2 days ago on 11/23/16 at approximately 2pm at the age of 76. His death was sudden and totally unexpected. It is believed he passed from a heart attack. He and my mom were about to leave for an appt and when mom went out to the car she saw him and knew something was wrong. The car was running and my dad had his hand on the gear and foot on the break and it happened instantly. There was no warning. Mom said he had been feeling and acting fine all day. She called me and my brothers after calling 911 and I proceeded to scream for several minutes. Ive been experiencing a lot of panic/anxiety the last couple days and it's scary. I also cannot sleep and have many other physical symptoms of the loss, which I know are probably normal but still scary. Last night I had such a bad panic attack I wanted to call 911 because I thought I was dying. I couldn't breathe, had difficulty swallowing, was shaking really bad, and had dry heaves. My heart races, it's hard to swallow and every time I breath it feels like I have a stack of bricks on my chest. I've been trying breathing exercises, listening to calming music, distracting myself but none of it helps much. Dad's funeral is next Thursday and the viewing is Wednesday. He and mom retired to Florida 6 years ago so we have had to deal with the logistics of flying him home. I worry what if the plane crashes, what if the airline people are disrespectful to my fathers remains, what if they accidentally send him somewhere else. He was an army veteran. I am so distressed about seeing my dad in his casket. I'm not going to be able to keep it together at the viewing/funeral and will probably embarrass myself. My dad was very respected and well loved by many many people and we know there will be a large turnout for his service. I lost my brother in 2011 to suicide and I thought I was devastated then, but losing my dad is just to much too bear. I also had an ectopic pregnancy last month which I had emergency surgery for and that situation in itself has been hard to bear sorry for such a long post. I know losing a parent is something we all have to face i am totally devastated by my dad passing away. I've always been very close to my dad.
  6. I am 35 years old and an only child. My parents have been divorced since I was 5. Back in September 2015 (six months ago), my father lost his battle with colon cancer. We did not know how sick he was, I only got the news that he was terminal about 10 days before his death. His decline was rapid and he suffered terribly. I was there to administer his care, sat with him. He asked me if I would be okay and I told him I would. He chose a moment when I left his hospital room to let go. I have been struggling with his loss ever since, been seeing a therapist. I can't stop thinking about how he was so weak and in so much pain. I'll never forget it. So, that was six months ago. Two days ago, on March 30, I received a late night phone call from my stepfather letting me know my mom had passed away. She collapsed while sweeping the back porch from a ruptured brain aneurysm. She was 64 and perfectly healthy. I have airline tickets booked to go see her in a week. I spoke to her earlier that day and she was fine. I am so beside myself. I started feeling disconnected... laying on the couch, I felt like this was happening to someone else and I was watching. My heart is palpitating. I can't take a deep breath, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I moved up my flight and I'll be attending my mom's funeral on Tuesday. Just six months and one week from my dad's. i guess there's no point to this post... I just feel so alone in this. I need help from people who know..
  7. I'm 25 and my dad passed away unexpectedly from complications due to a heart attack. It happened a few weeks after my birthday. He was in the hospital on life support for two weeks, but there was no hope for him so we had to let him go. He died in June, and everything has gone downhill since. My sister fought with me and told me I didn't care enough, then came over to my house and attacked me in the middle of the night and cussed me out telling me it's not my house, it's hers, and I contribute nothing. I left my job for a few months so I could be there for my mom who is not coping well. She has to take several pills daily to numb herself and she has not once been here for me, she has borderline personality disorder and regularly yells at me over mundane things. This whole time everyone has given me the blame for everything, for some reason I am the punching bag of the family. I was coping somewhat well until having relationship issues and restarting my job (I am also in a fast paced school program). I have suffered severe anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, night terrors, and hallucinations at night. I also have digestive issues and feel terrible 24/7. I can't tell anyone this because nobody cares. My mom is the only one allowed to feel pain I guess. Everybody I try to talk to tells me I either need pills or therapy because it's "not normal". I've recently given up my therapist because he was definitely not a match for me. I feel life isn't worth living and I have nothing to look forward to without my dad. And I'm trapped in a house with someone who is emotionally abusive and demands constant attention. I just want someone's input on this situation??? Thanks.
  8. https://www.theodysseyonline.com/dear-daddy-letter-to-the-man-lost-too-so
  9. Hello, I am 25 years old, I have a twin sister and our father is 53 and an Air force veteran. Im not sure what all exactly to type here but if its okay ill just type everything that sums it up sorry if i ramble alot. I tried to shorten this the best way possible. my mom and dad are divorced and have been since me and my sis were 9 or 10, but after a few years of bad mouthing each other i guess, they buried the hatchet and became friends and remained friends. my mom remarried and my dad stayed single. When me and my sister were born my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor the size of a golf-ball and it would cause him to have grand mal seizures through the years. He was told he had six months to live at the time, but has survived for 25 years since his first diagnosis. He has had five brain operations in order to try and remove the tumor that kept growing back because of the 'roots'. When I was 17, in July of 2008 I believe he had his final surgery and all seemed well after I stayed at his house and watched him regain his speech and motor functions quite rapidly but one morning something was wrong, the night before he began to look like he had a black eye but he was seemingly fine until he didn't want to get out of bed the next morning, so me and my sis called his father who didn't live far away and he was able to rouse my dad and make him stand up. When he stood up he had a mass of blood swelling on the left side of his head that made it look as if he had been in a fight he had a black eye that was swollen shut and a lump on the side of his head at his temple. Since then everything has been a roller coaster of bull that was going downhill for him through the last few years. he has been in and out of care facilities like nursing homes or those places where the resident could go home for a few hours a day by shuttle bus where he could receive 24 hour care. Last year in the summertime 2015, my pawpaw asked me or my sis if we would mind staying at my dads house to help him and stuff and I didn't mind at all, so I went and all seemed fine until that evening around 2 am something woke me up he was out of bed trying to go to the bathroom and couldn't move. This went on for 3 days or so, back and fourth. I would have to wait until morning to get my pawpaw and a neighbor to help lift my dad but until then I would make a bed for him on the floor and try to make him comfortable, he wouldn't let me change his underwear or clean him up. I am 5ft 133 lbs and my dad is 5'8 ish 200 something lbs I couldn't lift him to save my life. He was getting progressively worse hour after hour and after a few back and fourth phone calls from my pawpaw to the VA a nurse came to visit and passed off my dad like everything was just peachy holding his hand asking if he was okay and speaking softly. The following day, two awesome nurses came over and did a full head to toe check on him but I was not allowed to be in the room, only his parents were, and I was told they had discovered that my dad, who had a biopsy a month or so before to check the tumor growth, the wound from the biopsy was covered with a medical patch that was to be changed daily by either a nurse or his mom who is elderly and it wasn't getting done every day - at the time I didnt know it was supposed to be every day- well it wasn't healing right, and left pencil sized hole in his head causing him to catch an infection that is eating his skull and tissue on the brain along with an ever growing tumor that is causing him to lose his basic functions he is now bed ridden and unable to open his eyes, eat or speak this took a few months and the last few days he became comatose. Me and my sister think very highly of our father, and mother. To see him like this breaks my heart into a million pieces, I feel so much regret that I didn't tell him I loved him enough or spent enough time with him since we chose to live with our mom when we were transitioning to high-school, I can still remember the look on his face when we were asked who we wanted to live with and I hesitated, my sister said "mom" and I wanted to stay with both because I love them the same and my dad was staring towards his feet and his expression is burned into my memory I wish I would have chosen him, maybe he would've been okay. A few days ago he lost consciousness and couldn't eat, drink or speak. My pawpaw mentioned to me and my sis a few months ago to 'prepare' but I can't handle this, seeing my once proud father laying in a bed wearing an adult diaper, squirming from time to time like a baby it just makes me wanna scream. i hate to compare him to that or belittle him by saying that, im not trying to. im so lost i don't know what to do i feel so helpless and empty, i love him so much and people keep telling me to pray and i and think, pray for what? your stupid comments? It makes me so angry. this isnt fair he's so nice and doesn't deserve this at all. i havent ever cried this hard in my life i think i got the neighbors attention by accident when i was outside with my dog. i often go outside late at night on the nights that my dog has a late night potty break, and i just stare at the sky and living in the country you can see the stars pretty well. I just wonder and look up, i feel empty when i do not sure if im hoping to find something or what. He doesn't have long. the doctor said maybe hours, or days. I got him to drink some water around 3 am since me and my mom stayed overnight to watch him, and this morning on March 17th 2016 I got him to eat some breakfast because he awoke from the fever and the comatose state but it's a small false sanctuary to see my dad open his eyes. his eyes are glazed over now when he did open them and im not sure he can't see anymore. his left eye *the side of the tumor* is sunken in or swollen shut I cant really tell but it looks to me like his eyes are lazy now probably from the pressure? i don't know. but me and my mom went home and swapped out with my sister who is staying there tonight so I can get some sleep my mom went back up there to help. I feel so weird and sad that im going to lose one of the few people I love. i cant really put into words how i feel, i cant imagine how my mom & sis feels or his parents. i would do almost anything just to hear one of his cheesy jokes again and to sit with him and watch any movie he likes, i hate the andy griffith show but id love to sit and watch it with him and hear him laugh at a punchline as if he hadn't heard it 100 times before, or to receive one of his bear hugs or to hear one of his ridiculous yawns as he crossed his arms for his afternoon nap because the race was too boring. I want him to get ready for a weekend fishing trip, he was always more of a fisherman than a hunter. He hated bow hunting, and believed in using every usable part of the animal when hunting or fishing, he was raised not to waste an animal that you kill. I want him to annoy me or my mom again out of fun, i just want him to be okay, i want my dad back, i want to see him walk through the door and give me his half grin. i want to go to lunch to that place where we ate classic burgers and fries, where they knew our table and names and drink choice, and hear him make his order of "a double cheeseburger with chilly, ketchup and mustard, and coleslaw." i can hear his voice saying it in that pattern. i already miss him so much it hurts
  10. My father has been ill for 12 years. He had a ruptured brain aneurysm when I was 15, in 2004. He survived against all odds but was left disabled, paralyzed on his left side. His life changed drastically. Our life changed drastically. I'm the youngest of three girls. My mom and dad had worked hard and bought their dream house about 7 years before he fell ill. It had enough room for all us girls, big back yard, and they made many improvments. In fact my dad was working on installing new storm doors in the front yard when he collapsed. I was the only one home when it happened. That day, and the few that followed, hit us like a freight train. I had never experienced such anguish in my life, and at 15 it was so traumitizing. Nothing's ever been the same. My mom became my dad's caretaker, managing his appointments, medications, finances, everything. My sisters both lived at home so they would help with his daily care. He bounced between home and nursing homes a few time. He had so many health issues, from his heart, to seizures, to bouts of pneumonia, MRSA, and a torn esophagus, among countless other things. He was in pain every day from his contracted limbs, and would yell out when we had to move him. He lost a good portion of his vision, and his mentality completely changed after the aneursym. He was still sweet and caring. That never changed. He loved his family more than anything else in the world. He regained the ability to talk and got good use out of his right arm, so was able to feed himself and give good one armed hugs (which he loved). He was silly and funny, sitting there in his wheelchair while talking back to people on the tv. He even relearned how to write, although quite messily. He was great at making phone calls, and this past year learned how to text (he held his flip phone upside down while typing to make it easier). It's been no secret that he's ill. He's lost weight, especially since my mom moved him back to a nursing home for the last time. He became a picky and reluctant eater, and wasn't interested in tv. I went to visit him a few weeks ago, not knowing it would be last time seeing him. He was overjoyed to see me. He gave me so many hugs that day. I sat on his bed and we talked for a good long while. He told me that he felt ready to go. I didn't like hearing him talk like that. i told him he had more time, that he was a fighter. He said that he felt like he was getting weaker, and that whenever God was ready to take him, he'd go without a fight. I'd never heard him talk like that before. He wasn't emotional or tearful. He was matter of fact and open about it. He said my oldest sister hadn't visited lately because it upset her to hear him talk like this. His own mother would hang up the phone if he brought it up during their calls. I felt like it was only right to be an outlet for his feeling, even though I didn't like to think of it. He also told me that he'd come visit me after he was gone. I said he sure better. Little did I know that would be one of our last conversations. I sat with him that day as he picked at his lunch while the Olympics was playing on tv. He wasn't interested in it. He offered me his food several times, like he usually does. I asked him what he'd like to eat; he said KFC, so I promised I'd bring it next time I visited. That time never came. I had plenty of opportunities. I just hadn't gotten back. It's tearing me up inside that he felt so lonely near the end. He said that above all he just wished he could be home. It was a nice facility, but he said he felt like he was in a nut house. He didn't understand why my mom sent him there. He just wanted to be with his family. It broke my heart at the time because I felt powerless to help him. And at the very end, earlier today, when his breathing became labored and his BP dropped, we weren't there. We didn't know in time. The nursing home called my mom, but by then he was already in the ambulance, and that's where he passed. Not surrounded by family, the family he loved more than anything else. That is ripping me up inside. I just wanted to say goodbye to the man that gave me everything. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I so hope he knew that. I wanted him to look around the room at all the loving faces, to be encompassed with warmth and adoration like he deserved. Its so cruel, to be struck down and disabled, to suffer for so long, and then to be alone at the very end. I don't think I'll ever get over that
  11. I am sixteen years old, and I lost my dad about six months ago. January 14th. He had been battling cancer for two years when it happened, and he had only been in hospice for a week and a half. I guess I felt kind of relieved. I only missed 3 days of school because I just wanted everything to go back to normal, but that can't happen.. I made myself seem stronger than I actually was, my mom and brother, who is 15, think I don't miss him. I cry every day and he is all I think about, and I don't know why I can't just tell them that, but I can't. My mom thinks I am a heartless bitch. I'm not. I just don't cry in front of her, and she cries all the time. She doesn't have a job and she's depressed along with my brother. I can't talk to her about anything without her bringing my dad up, and I'd rather just not talk about him. It hurts me to talk about him, but she doesnt know that. It's been six months and it hasn't gotten easier. I almost feel nothing while I'm feeling everything, if that makes sense. I can't talk about what happened without feeling like crying which is why I can't talk to my mom, but she doesn't see it that way. Just because I'm not dealing with it the same way as her, she sees it as a bad thing. I don't know what to do or how to talk to her. I'm just so sad inside and I miss him so much. He was my best friend and he always had my back. My mom and I aren't much alike, she's like my brother and I was like my dad, but now I'm all alone. My brother and mom gang up on me saying I don't care about them and that I'm not sad, which isn't true at all, but they don't listen to me. I miss my dad so much. I feel so alone.
  12. 1.5 Months ago I lost my young Dad at 57 years of age, after a long and unexpected battle in Intensive care (4 months). He was unexpectently rushed to hospital late February with difficulty breathing. No prior health issues and generally a fit and healthy man. I am 24. To loose my Dad at such young age has been so hard on me, I'm finding very difficult to carry out daily tasks in life. I still question the reasons my Dad died and for some reason I feel that the ICU team just gave up on my Dad in the end because it was so long. By the time I got to the hospital he was already intubated and heavily sedated, they said he had severe bacterial pneumonia and his heart was showing signs of enlargement. They said he was very sick. Which was a total shock to me because he was generally fine before. They eventually diagnosed him with HypotropicCardiomyopathy which was causing the fluid to build up on his lungs and in turn causing the pneumonia. He eventually had a tracheostomy placed after two months which was when he finally started to improve a little. He eventually regained conciseness which was a blessing for me because he hadn't seen me at the hospital at all. He was fully mentally award but incredibly weak and unable to talk due to the tracheostomy. From that point on he had ups and downs but ultimately the pneumonia would clear and then return. His heart never improved really, they had him on inotropes for the duration of his stay. On the day that he died I was by his side. He never woke up and went very peacefully. The Doctors told me that he went himself but I know enough about medicine to doubt that. about 15mins before he passed they stopped the infusion of his inotropes and reduced his ventilator settings right down to 5% which allowed him to die. A few weeks before I was told that a DNR was placed on his file. apparently here in Ireland family do not have to give consent for s DNR and it's a doctors decision. In the end I was just mentally exchanged from my endless battle with the hospital to do more for my Dad and I ultimately feel they let him die in the end. Why didn't they do anything for his cardiomyopathy, why didn't they offer any other treatment plans ? Why did they withdraw care towards the end, why did they place a DNR on his file. I'm taking this very hard and it's a very lonely battle :-(
  13. I don't really know how to start this but here goes, on the 5th of May this year after not hearing off my father that day and he didn't respond to any calls or texts, me (24) and my brother (19) went to check on him around 7pm, when we arrived we found my dad had passed away (56). I tried everything in my power to ressusatate him but I knew it was too late but continued until the paramedics arrived. when the paramedics arrived minutes after, they made no attempt of resuscitation and made contact with the police. It took from 7pm to 1:40am for my dad to be taken by private ambulance to the coroners office. Which was so difficult as the layout of my dads home meant we could see him the entire duration, which was really distressing. My dad was with the coroners for 3 weeks before they finally released him to the funeral home so we could visit him in the chapel of rest. When we went to visit him I was apprehensive as I've always opted not to visit family in the chapel of rest (I've never been sure why) but this time I knew I needed to. When we arrived we were warned due to how long it has been we had to expect some changes. When we entered it didn't look like my dad, there was similarities but he looked so different, it really shocked me. I fell to the floor in tears. Me, my brother and my sister arranged his funeral and it was beautiful. It really was so fitting for a wonderful man. We still have no answers as to why my dad is no longer with us and its really difficult at the moment. I've taken a 6 month interruption of university, I was 12 weeks away from qualifying as a nurse but I have lost absolutely all confidence in that career, as the first time I've had to put my CPR skills was on my dad and I failed. The paramedics said there was nothing that could have worked as they believed he passed away during the previous night. But I still feel so guilty. ive barley been able to sleep, I keep getting flashbacks of the event and when I do get some sleep it's usually nightmares. I've trying to hold it together around everyone else as I've been there to support them but when I find night creeping in, and everyone is asleep I fall apart. The only thing bringing some light at the moment is my son. I feel like a passenger in my own life right now, I have no goals, no productivity and no answers. I just feel so so alone. Sorry for the long post.
  14. This is my first experience with forums, so I hope I'm doing this correctly. My father passed away almost 10 months ago, and I've had an extremely hard time dealing with the feelings of guilt and regret. This is not my first experience with the loss of a parent. My mother passed away suddenly in 2001, and it was terrible as you can imagine. I was 23 and my sister was 19. It took a long time time to figure out how how to cope, and there was some regret, but nothing like I feel now with my dad gone. My dad and mom divorced when I was around 4, so I grew up without seeing him everyday. However, we visited every other weekend, and he always made sure he called on birthdays and holidays. I never had any doubts that he loved me. By the time I was in my mid teens, he was divorced for the second time and enjoyed a somewhat wild lifestyle. Though I think he had a tougher time than he would admit with that marriage ending, and it was during that time that I started to see him drink more, and it was the first time I truly ever recall him being drunk. We still saw him and talked to him pretty regularly. As I approached 20, he had remarried and had a new baby on the way. I honestly wasn't sure what to think about it, but it was his life and as long as he was happy, that's all that mattered. As it turned out, that would become one of the most volatile and unhealthy relationships that I have ever witnessed. His drinking and behavior became increasingly worse at times. We still spoke and I would visit, just not as often as before because of college and work. There were several attempts to get him to seek treatment, but he refused. This made me angry, but mostly sad. When my mom passed when I was 23, he did a good job of trying to help me and my sister through that. However, his drinking continued. About a year after my mom passed, there was an incident between him, myself and my sister. He did not agree with who I was dating and showed up at my apartment one night intoxicated, violent and he said hurtful things to us that should never be said to your children. For the better part of 4 years he basically quit speaking to us, didn't attend my sisters wedding and moved out of state. I missed him and still loved him, but it was his choice. In 2006, he called me out of the blue and we reconnected. We spoke every night for several weeks, and he finally asked if he could come stay with me for a while. He was still living out of state but had lost his license and a good paying job. He needed help so I agreed. That worked for a while but he was still drinking and my tolerance was low. That eventually ended with another argument and me asking him to leave. After that he caught some bad breaks - jail over child support, difficulty in finding a job without license, all of his things were stolen out of storage, and the worst part was a stroke around 2009. After that he just wasn't quite himself. He would still drink excessively which led me to saying things that were hurtful and refusing to go around him. He went through boughts of depression, and would cry quite a bit about the past. I'm not good at dealing with those types of things so I would just try to get him to move past it. He would dwell on his third marriage and how he was wronged, which he was in many ways, but there was nothing he could do at that point to change it so I would get so frustrated at his repetitive gripes. I was the one who took care of the paperwork, and made phone calls and made sure he paid his bills. i would usually stop by his house every 2 to 3 weeks to see if he needed anything else, but found myself fussing at him about the cleanliness of his house. I stayed on him about that. He was always so meticulous in his appearance and his surroundings, but in recent years he had let that go. It bothered me to see him that way. Maybe there were times I was embarrassed, but mainly I just didn't want people looking down on him. I found that overall my patience with him was very low too. The best way to describe it is that I probably talked to him like a child sometimes. I wasn't hateful or mean, but stern, possibly condescending. i never really stayed long when I did visit, it was always a quick in and out. Though I always told him he had an open invitation to my house, and tried to get him over at least once a week. By last year, he was improving. He was drinking less, but still suffered from depression sometimes. I think he had a hard time adjusting to his new life with limited income. He was doing a better job overall. Though my patience with him in general was low. In June 2015, he was admitted to the hospital and coded twice. Miraculously, after a week, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. He was feeling better, walking everyday and seemed happy. The doctors assured me that any problems with his heart could be managed with medicine. Over the next couple of months, he was coming by my house more and we spoke once a week. However, on August 13, he was gone. I had not physically seen him in 2-3 weeks prior to take because I had been in and out of town. I literally felt like my world was crashing around me. I felt sick. I still feel sick. I know this is long, so I apologize, but I tell you all of this to give you the background of how and why I feel like I do today. I can't get past the feeling that I should have been nicer, visited more, had more patience. I feel like I was a terrible daughter emotionally, and I tried to substitute that with financial support. I think back to all of the times he would be talking to me and I would be nodding my head and looking down at my phone. I worry that he thought I was embarrassed of him. Even though I always said I love you when ending a call, I worry most of all that he never truly knew just how much I loved him and how much I would have done for him. I just don't know how to move forward.
  15. Hi everyone, This is my first time posting here or really talking to anyone who might understand what I'm going through.... But here is a quick back story: I'm a 20 year old girl, with a 22 year old brother (who moved out almost a year ago), a dad, and my grandparents. (We all live in a house together aside from my brother). I lost my mom 2 years ago to cancer. At her funeral, instead of being there for me, most of my extended family pretty much drilled it into me that I have to be there for my dad and grandparents and I have to take care of them and take my moms place and be everyones rock. I'm almost certain my dad isn't aware of people saying this to me. My dad and I have always had a rocky relationship, poor communication and he is very hard headed and tough to talk to. Anyway, I'm having a fear of being stuck here and not being able to live my life. And I'm not sure if that makes me selfish. I want to go out and explore the world and travel and maybe move to another state or at least go for an extended time and figure myself out. I am so lost in life and need time to figure out what I want. And I can't seem to do that here. I just want to go. But I'm so scared of leaving my dad. I'm scared if I leave he's just going to be alone and I'd hurt him and I don't want to do that. As rough as our relationship is, I love my dad. But I don't want to continue being unhappy here. I'm so scared I'm going to be stuck here doing the same thing, day in and day out and not knowing what I want in life if I don't leave. But I just don't want to hurt him. I have no idea what to do..... Is there anyone who has gone through something similar or is feeling the same way or just has any advice in general? None of my friends understand because they have both parents, who would have each other if they left.
  16. Hello...I hope this will help me sort through my emotions a bit. A little over three weeks ago, my father passed away unexpectedly in his sleep due to a pulmonary embolism (a clot that stops the heart). I received the call that he was dead after a late night class. My heart is so broken. I love my dad so much. Everything reminds me of him. The grocery store, flowers, Chinese food, green Jeeps, lemonade, matzo ball soup.... I am at a loss for words. He loved me and my siblings so much and was so proud of us. He was an incredibly talented musician, and his funeral was attended by around 400 people who knew him for his talent with the saxophone and bass. He taught me to play guitar when I was six. I am so proud of my dad. I miss him. I would give anything to hear his voice. I know he is with me, but sometimes it is very difficult not to feel the absence more than this new kind of presence...it is all still so new and so shocking. All I know these days is that I love him with all of my heart, and I will miss him every single day. If anyone is interested in sharing stories of a lost loved one, or facts about them, I'd be happy to read them. I know telling stories about my Dad makes me feel better sometimes... Thanks for reading... -AG
  17. Got a call that my dad wasn't doing well again and my mom (his ex-wife) said she was going up there to sit with him, i figured id stay home bc my sister was out and wouldnt be back til late and my stapdad was coming in from work which would also be late, and we have a dog and cats that needed to be fed and stuff, but my mom said " karen i think you should go." i was reluctant bc.. im not sure why tbh, maybe my selfishness of just not wanting to go and wanting to stay home along with seeing him like that not hardly waking up and trying to get him to eat and drink and getting hardly any sleep in the combination - but i got ready and we headed on up to the VA and planned to stay. I think i saw some tears in his eyes. i hope not. i really hope it was just like from where you wake up and your eyes are watery, he could barely open his eyes though, but he looked at me when i finally got his attention. i was woken up from the TV being on, and being sore from laying in the reclining chair but im glad i was awake, bc i put the cover over my head to keep the TV from bothering me, and heard my dads breathing which was at 40 breaths a minute all day, stop suddenly. For a split second i thought it might be a sigh or a yawn, but i think knew what it really was - i turned around placed my hand on his arm and i saw my mom standing there on the other side of him and she said his name "Chris?" she held his hand. I said "Dad?" and his eyes were so wide, he hasnt hardly been able to open his eyes the past few weeks and it was weird to see his eyes so large and wide, and he drew in two more breaths and he was gone. all the while i was telling him i love you i love you, over and over because i found out the hearing is the last thing to go, and i said "i love you, i love you so much, you're my favorite" but i love my mom and dad the same so idk why i said that. at that time i think he was already gone. my mom was crying but i didnt, not right away i felt weird and then nauseous, i was by the window and i think i got up at that moment after my mom went to get someone i dont remember much other then i held his hand after he was gone and his eyes closed a little bit, my mom kissed him on the head and i couldnt look at him directly i just said, i love you over and over i couldnt think of anything to say, but i did finally look at him and i stroked his cheek. ive never seen someone die. didnt think id see my dad go. not in 1 million years. but im glad he wasnt alone. i think i got really upset and realized he really was gone when the head nurse came in and he said "Morgue" as in bring him to the morgue at some point. i felt his presence all day, or maybe it was me just missing him, my twin said the same thing that she didn't feel he was truly gone. we knew this was going to happen but.. this is my dad i never actually considered it was going to happen. ive been getting really weak in the knees and arms since his passing. me and my mom didnt hardly speak on the way home but we came in my sister was laying on the loveseat crying and she told me that the social worker informed her of dad's passing thinking she was me. i felt terrible that she had to get the news that way. she even asked me earlier that day "do you think i should come up" i told her i wasn't sure this time, but she tried to reassure me and herself i think that he would pull through like last week. i really just didn't want to bother her happy day with her bf and his daughter. i laid down to sleep but it was hard, didnt seem real, like should i really go to sleep? or what. but i did eventually. i told my sister as soon as i woke up i said " i had a dream about dad" and i told her what it was about, then she said " so did I" so she told me what it was about, but she was dreamt about him before she knew he was gone, this is what she told me. (my sister was at home asleep, and i tried to call her then i think i called my stepdad and idr who else my mom called and.. well anyways, the social worker called her thinking she was me, and my sister thought it was a joke when she said "im so sorry about your dad" and i cant imagine how my twin sister felt, the lady on the phone realized she hadn't gotten the news yet and that she was speaking with the wrong person and even thought she had the wrong family for a moment.) The dream she told me was that she saw him and he was in an old hospital ward, one of the big open dorms, it was dark with high windows and golden sunlight coming through, and our dad was standing tall and proud in his USAF blues looking at her, and he was young again and she said "he looked so handsome" and she told me she was talking to him he was looking at her in a way like "what's wrong?" and there was a door behind him and he kinda nodded at her and he started going to the door she said "dad! where are you going?" and at that point she was woken up by the call. i was really in disbelief when she told me that but i believe her, she wouldnt lie about something like that. ever. i had a dream too but mine was gloomy and this was after i came home to try to sleep, i was in a corner the room was dark and the only light was from a TV coming from a low position, my dad had already passed and he was in a bed, his hair was more grown out and messy. Elvis Presley: Blue Christmas was playing on an old record player and this black cat comes out of nowhere and sits on his chest and brings him back to life he raised his head and looked at me, i think i said "dad!! youre okay!" and he said "hey" and something else but that's all i recall. mine was definitely more of wishful thinking type dream. this morning when i went outside to get some air and to get out of the bathroom because my sis needed to shower, i saw 2 black tiny butterflies fluttering around and coming near me then i looked over towards the backyard woods when 3 or 4 of those large tiger swallowtails fly in my direction they all hovered near me for a bit and then were gone the sun was shining really bright and pretty at that moment. when i went inside it got cloudy. i wonder if it's possible that was him in some way? idk maybe wishful thinking. i miss him, my heart hurts. thanks for reading.
  18. My father died 3 months ago this Saturday. I feel like within the last month, grief has really hit me hard upside the head. I cried so much when it first happened, but I sobered up quickly and kept on going with my life, and now I miss him SO MUCH. I don't sleep well anymore, I am constantly stress eating, I miss him so much I just think about him CONSTANTLY. I thought time was supposed to make things better, it just makes everything feel worse. The shock has worn off, and I am feeling it full on. Anyone have any advice for how to grieve in a more healthy way? I am a college student and I cannot slack off this semester, I need to buckle down, but I don't want to do anything because of my grief.
  19. My dad died of liver cancer at the end of March. We found out right before Thanksgiving 2014 that he had cancer and he was gone by Easter. In the beginning of March we were told he had 3 to 6 months, by the second week we were told weeks. By the third week, we knew it would not be long. I was so very close with my dad. I was Daddy's little girl. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of him. I break down at least once a day, sometimes more. I am trying to stay strong for my mom and while I am with her, most of the time I am a rock. Once I am by myself I can be emotional. I still have very vivid nightmares about the two days before he passed. With liver cancer, ammonia levels rise and the person you love turns into someone they are not. My dad kicked me, hit me and told me he didn't care about me in those two days. He thought we were being cruel by trying to keep him in bed and he was so confused, angry and hurt because we had to take him to a hospice house. I am filled with guilt because we could not take care of him at home. I was also with him when he died and those last moments were absolutely horrible to watch. I have experienced loss before with my grandparents and an uncle but nothing like this. I can't seem to get it together and my nightmares are now causing insomnia. I have tried anti depressants to help with the loss and they do not help. So I thought I would try an online support group. I miss him so much. I keep thinking that this is all just another one of my nightmares and that I will wake up. I just don't feel like it is getting any better.
  20. This is a fairly long story, but I need to tell it. It has been 3 months since my dad passed away and it seems like my grief is only getting worse. When my dad was 22 years old, he had a heart transplant. He needed the transplant because he contracted a virus that destroyed his heart. I was not born until he was 27. I have grown up knowing that my life almost didn't happen, along with my little sister's. It was hard to understand and then it caused me a lot of inner turmoil as I got older. Dad was mostly okay, despite having some complications from the medicines he had to take. He ended up having both of his hip joint's replaced over the years, one of them had to be replaced twice. It wasn't until I was 19 years old that dad started getting sick again. In April of 2007, my dad had a stroke. Luckily, my cousin was there when it happened and was able to call an ambulance and get him to the hospital. I remember every detail of that morning. I remember my sister calling me. I remember getting in my car and, no exaggeration, driving over 100 mph from my house to theirs, trying desperately to get there before the ambulance left. I was only about 3 minutes too late. We rode with my older sister and several others to the hospital where they took him, and waited to be allowed in to see him. After a while, we went back to his ER room. I tried to keep it together, but seeing him like that shook me. The worst part was that he apologized for upsetting us. All he ever cared about was making sure we were okay. After the stroke, dad stayed in the hospital for a long time. It wasn't a "bad" stroke and he eventually gained back most of his function. However, they discovered the reason for his stroke was a cardiac arrhythmia. The doctors put him on a beta-blocker in hopes of correcting the issues, but this landed him right back in the ER, very very close to death. In the end, he had to have a pace maker and defibrillator placed in his chest to prevent the arrhythmia from causing any more problems. It all went down hill from there. About every year after this, dad would start feeling sick and have to go in the have stents placed in his arteries to prevent heart attacks. Since dad had a transplanted heart, heart attacks didn't feel the same to him or have the same effects as with other people. He had several, but survived them all. This was when they started talking about the transplant list. It was a long process, but he was finally placed on the list on September 13th, 2013. I lived on edge for a long time, wondering when we would get the call. Lets rewind back about a year, in August 2012, I moved 4 hours away from home to go to school. So you can imagine, it was very difficult for me to cope. It was even harder because listed patients are not supposed to travel very far from their hospital and 4 hours was too far. So my parents never visited me at school. Not once. On March 12th, 2015 at 10:21 pm, I received a text from my dad that just said "new heart!!!!!!" I immediately went into shock. I didn't know what to do or how to react. I was right in the middle of my second semester in a professional program and had no idea what would happen if I missed some school to go be with my dad. When my boyfriend got home not to much later, I told him I was getting in my car and driving to be with my dad. I emailed my teachers and hoped they would be okay with me missing a couple of days, and they were. I drove through and got to the hospital before 4 am on March 13th. I was able to see my dad about an hour later, while he was signing the paperwork and consent forms for his surgery. He started making his way to surgery around 5:30 am and went under at 8 am. The rest of the day for me is a huge blur. At some point I picked my little sister up from the airport, and I vaguely remember going to the house to take a short nap. Sometime after 5 or 6 pm, not sure exactly when, we were allowed into his ICU room. Dad was in a medically induced coma, he was on an "ECMO" machine, and he was not well. The right side of the new heart was not working right. He was intubated and on a ventilator. The next several weeks were spent with our hopes being lifted and crushed over and over. What originally was only going to be 24-48 hours of sedation ended up being over 10 days. When they finally took him off of sedation, we discovered he had several major strokes on both sides of his brain. This is where it all fell apart. The hospital, in my opinion, did not take the proper measures to monitor him for strokes, despite his high risk from being on ECMO. They put him through countless procedures. They gave him so many infections. They acted like everything was going to be okay. After about a month of being in ICU, they moved dad to another, less serious ICU. We thought, "Yes, things are going fine." He started going for walks, he started talking, and he started to be more like himself. That's when he started complaining about his stomach pain. The doctors wouldn't even listen to him. They assumed that because he had stomach issues before, that was what it was. He also had hiccups all the time. A couple weeks later, they sent him to rehab. The last step before coming home. I was lucky enough to be there the day he was sent to rehab. It felt like things were finally looking up. I spent one day with him looking at houses for myself and for my parents for when he was better and for when I came home for good. He was in rehab for less than a week before he was sent back to the hospital. Several days later, I received the worst set of calls and text messages of my life. My mom wanted to talk to me but only if my boyfriend was home. Dad's liver was failing. The next day, it was just infected and not failing. Then the next day my sister called to let us know that dad was not going to get better. He wanted to go home for his last few weeks. This happened to coincide with my first day back to school for the summer semester. Again, I started to panic, for obvious reasons, but also because I didn't know if I would be able to leave school for the time I needed and come back without having to repeat the last year. After emailing my teachers through the night, I got the response I had hoped for; go, be with your dad, you can pick up where you left off when you get back. I was back home the next day. Dad was still in the hospital. They had to get things set up with insurance for home care and a bed and all of that. It was a mess, just like the rest of our experience with this hospital. There are so many details I am leaving out just because this is getting so long. We got dad home a few days later. We had to learn how to take care of him and administer his IV antibiotics and antifungals, which were basically keeping him alive. My younger sister and her fiance drove in from half way across the country, and we had started planning a double wedding. Both of my sisters were engaged at this time, and both had already started planning their weddings, but neither wanted to wait. They wanted dad to be there. So we had a massive double wedding/celebration of my dad's life in the front yard of our home. There were at least 150 people there, probably more. It was so beautiful and special. My dad had one of his last good days that day. He got to say goodbye to a lot of family and friends. This was about 4 days after he got home. The next few weeks were just a downward slope. He started out being able to talk and drive around his motorized chair, but after about 2 weeks he was delusional and couldn't do much. He was incontinent and my mom was taking care of him. Like I said before, the antibiotics and antifungals were keeping him alive. Finally, my mom made the decision to start hospice and stop the medications. It only took 3 days for him to go. My sisters, my mom, my two aunts, my new brother in law, and my cousin were all by my dad's side, holding him, while he passed. I will never forget seeing the life leave him. It was both beautiful and terrifying. I still can't tell how much it has damaged me. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I think of that moment and it tears a hole in me. Since my dad passed away, I completed my summer school work in 1 month and kept on track. I had a 3 week break before fall semester. My mom visited me at school for the first time since I moved. And so much more. For the first month, I felt okay. I was so sad and I cried a lot, but I felt like I was coping really well. During my 3 week break, I got really depressed. I think that not having much to do gave me too much time to think. I have been back in school for a month and it will be 3 months since his passing on the 30th. Most days, I don't even want to get out of bed. I feel horrible all the time, like physically ill. I have dreams about my dad being alive all the time, like he just came back from being away for a while. It always screws me up because in the dreams, he is never himself, he is always as he was before he died. I don't want to remember him that way. He was so frail and thin and had aged about 10 years in only 3 short months. I hate remembering him like that. And I am angry! I am so angry with the hospital for how they handled my dad's case. There were way too many doctors who were NOT communicating with one another and contradicting each other! I believe from the bottom of my heart that the hospital killed my dad. I know that sounds harsh, but if you heard all the details, you'd probably agree. The other thing that really pisses me off is that if he hadn't had the transplant or been put on the list, he might still be alive today. He was getting by just fine, and it sure as hell would have been better for him to pass quickly that the horrifying way he went. It was so slow and there was so much pain. I feel so sad for how he went. Now that I have told my story, can someone please help me feel better? I don't have many friends at school, well none really, and my fiance has never lost a parent so he doesn't really understand. He listens, but sometimes it isn't enough. I know I should be in grief counseling or something but I can't bring myself to do it. Someone help. Please. I can't keep living my life in this horrible state of grief and depression. I need to live again and be happy.
  21. Hello, It has been a little over a year since my beloved dad passed away. I suffer from withdrawal and mild depression. Life is not the same, nor will it ever be, again. Though 48 yrs. old, I have no other family except for mom (whom I treasure). The friends that I thought I had, have dropped writing or seeing me. This has been the single most heartbreaking experience that I have gone through, over the past year. I don't expect anyone to truly understand the close bond that my parents and I had always shared. But it does help, somehow, knowing that I am not alone--and that not everyone will avoid me altogether, as soon as I mention my loss. Compared to a year ago, the total numbness that I had experienced in the beginning is gone. I am finally able to concentrate on a pastime or two--even if only for a few minutes. I guess that is a bit of progress, however small. At work, sad to say, people have not been supportive--but instead have taken advantage of my loss, in order to advance or embolden themselves...hard to believe, and extremely hurtful. Late last year, I reached out to someone here who was also going through a loss, and it seemed like I had made a difference in his life. I am so pleased about this. I encourage others here to reach out also, because you just never know. It is sad, though, once he or she appears to heal, you often don't hear from them anymore. Please write me, at: bradtenan@gmail.com . I really do need others to communicate with. I still feel very much alone. Maybe we can help each other--even if just by keeping in touch. God bless, and take care.
  22. Only 50 days ago I found out my father had stage 4 lung cancer. I had always been more attached to my father, I was a daddy's girl. I came to him for everything. I spoke to him every single day, and told him about my day in great detail, and he would listen to my rants about my mother, and rant about her too. You see, she left him and broke his heart, then went back like 4 years ago and left him again. She has been in abusive relationships, and she has a drinking problem. All of my problems became less of a problem once I spoke to dad. He made me feel better, and I could tell him anything. But in the past year, year and a half, mom had had a new relationship, with a new guy. He had a kid a year younger than me, with whom I had grown extremely close too. They would take me and my younger sister away for a day all the time, and often times, come between me and my father without realizing it. Because mom and dad lived with each other even after they split this last time, she had her boyfriend move in here. So, while they took us on adventures my dad stayed home alone. One New Years Eve, I wanted to stay at home, with dad. But mom forced us to go to his house. My dad had gone to the store and bought snacks and everything...we were going to watch the ball drop and watch stupid late night television like we had the year before. But Mom had made us go to his house, even though I cried about it all day that day. I told dad I wanted to stay home but mom made us go. I still feel so guilty that that one memory makes me cry. Over the past year, we grew apart, I was getting older, I could no longer tell him everything that happened at school- I mean, I had crush's on boys now and I had even asked one out without permission, I couldn't tell him that. Our conversations became shorter and shorter, despite my growing guilt. SO MANY times dad had offered to give me a ride to my friends house, double checked and triple checked. But I thought it was burdensome towards him, so I had Ed do it, mom's boyfriend. In retrospect rereading those texts I realize he wanted to give me a ride he wanted to talk to me in those short five minute rides but I refused, not realizing he might have wanted to give me a ride. And then he got a blood clot in March, late march, and sure, he was in pain but stuff didn't change too much, he still called me his sh**head, and texted me every night, and I still came into his room and would rant about mom and ed, and he would agree with me. He still spoke to me about art and my future, he just was in pain. then 50 days ago, I got the dreaded news, that he had stage 4 lung cancer. Mom and Dad had grown close within the time when they found out and when I did. They found out almost two months before me. They assured us he would have a few more years, that they would knock the cancer down a few notches and put it into remission and he'd be fine for a little while. But then just a few weeks later, the doctors said, about 6 months. That was hard. I had hoped on a few years. But one day, before we were totally aware of how brittle his bones were (The cancer spread pretty much everywhere) he fell trying to leave the bathroom, and I was the only one there. He said he was okay, and he was up by the time I got there, but a few days later we were told he broke his left hip, and he had a little less than 6 months to live. Now, I thought they meant 5 or 4 or something like that, but it was actually only a few weeks. Because he died on June 4th 2015 at 4:23ish pm, and I was called out of school early. I didn't know what to say to my father as his spit was making gurgling noises and his breathes shook the bed. I didn't know what to say as his hands pulled back from us and as his mouth hung open forming an oval shape, i didn't know what to say when his eyes were open only slits and didn't blinkand only the whites were shown. What do you say when the person you love most in the world won't hold your hand? Between sobs I told him I loved him, and I told him the story about how when I was little he told me when people die they become stars and look down on us living, and then my grandma who wouldn't leave the room told me that the story was not appropriate. So I left and said more to dad than her, that I'd be in the other room. A few minutes later, when my aunt was speaking, I popped in quickly and leaned over him, hovering and touched his arms gently and told him that I loved him. I left without another word. But I didn't tell him it was okay. I was suposed to but I couldn't because it isn't. But I kept him here suffering with every second because I was too scared to say it was okay to die. ANd once my mom told him that it was okay, and that me and my sister would be taken care of, he took two breaths and died. I wasn't there during his last breath, but I was there soon after, hyperventilating and sobbing uncontollably. After several minutes I gained control, because there was already too much I couldn't control, I wasn't going to let my crying be another thing i couldn't gain control of. And then he was gone. I don't feel his presence. I don't feel him looking down on me. But about a half hour after he died, I looked at him, and when I left the room I heard him say "mad", aka, the thing he called me to get my attention short notice. I looked back in, but his mouth still hung open the same, his eyes wouldn't close. His skin yellow, like it was before his death, because his kidneys and stuff, pretty much every surrounding organ had cancer in it and didn't function to his full potential. But since then, I have to imagine what he would say, I have to make myself wonder what he would say, most often it being "Dumbass" and smacking my arm playfully, or his long drawn out sigh that really didn't mean anything like people thought it did. Why does it only get harder as time progresses? I'm so worried about the future- what's going to happen if he's not here, I get anxiety so bad at this point that I can barely stand it. I've always had anxiety, thanks to my mother. Mom doesn't think I should have meds to regulate my anxiety, she thinks i need to handle it on my own. The attacks are short and not too strong, but enough to give me jitters. I can tell when I'm going to get one two, because I need to move and shake my leg or something. He only died 11 days ago, at the age 57.
  23. On the first day of my sophomore year of high school, when I was 15 years old, my father died. We lived alone together in a big house and we were home alone together when he died. I was the one who found his body. My elder sister of 2 years had a baby boy who was 6 months old at the time (Levi). A year later, he was killed in a tragic accident that to this day my sister still might be blamed for and will most likely go to prison for 10 years for “child neglect”. I live with my mother now, who I never really talked to before my dad's death. Me and my father were very close, and I was even closer to Levi. Levi was literally My Sunshine, and in a way his death has affected me worse than my father’s. My father's was to be expected eventually, but not my baby’s. I am now 17, 6 days away from turning 18. I still find myself in the same condition I was when they died. I don't know what exactly I'm looking for, pity or someone to tell me it's okay, or even someone to tell me it's not okay. I still don't know what to do or how to function like a normal human being. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Thanks, Sarah
  24. This is my First Father's Day without my dad. It's been six months since his death and it's still so hard to enjoy life without him. I miss him with all my heart. Every day and night I think about the past. I miss the good times with my dad and I miss the many things we never got to do, because we ran out of time. It seems like life passed too quickly. I miss him in thousands of ways, in every film we enjoyed together, in every song we both liked, in every memory we shared. Even San Francisco, my hometown which we both loved isn't the same without him in it. He was synonymous with home, love and protection. We both loved the Panama Pacific International Exposition of 1915 even though we never got to see it. I regret so much that he didn't live to see the centennial year. I bought a PPIE souvenir mug at the de Young Museum showing the Tower of Jewels which we both imagined was a sight to behold like no other. The whole fair was a vision of beauty and wonder never to be seen again. He would have liked the cup. There are so many things I see and experience that he would have liked. I wish we could have enjoyed the Firefall at Yosemite together. He enjoyed it before I was born and I got to see it right before it was discontinued. We never got to see it together, because he had to work. We understood why the Firefall had to stop, but we missed the romance and the reverence of the ritual. I was so proud of my father. He was strong. handsome and brave, yet kind, gentle and calm. I always felt safe with him, even after he could no longer physically protect me. He first became my personal hero when he got an older bully girl off my back in first grade at public school. He told her if she didn't leave me alone he would beat up her father. That stopped her in her tracks. The following year he transferred me to Catholic school. One of the many highlights of my childhood was when my dad placed a large lighted Christmas star at the top of a very tall cedar tree in the back yard. He had made the star himself. You could see it from the Bayshore Freeway. I remember looking on with a mixture of pride and fear as he climbed way up to the top of the tree. At the same time, I'll always appreciate the times he was cautious to ensure he'd be with me a long time. He didn't smoke or drink to excess. He never took drugs or stayed out late, except when he was working nights. His biggest vice was a sweet tooth. In the good old days our fall ritual was to burn leaves in a big metal barrel. What fun that was! It was like living in the country even though we lived in the city. It seemed like we didn't have a care in the world. There were hardly any neighbors around. We didn't even have to lock our front door. It was a different world then. Fourth of July was my favorite holiday, because we had barbecue parties with fireworks on the patio -- my dad always bought plenty of fireworks and food to entertain me, my half brother and my cousins. While patriotic marches played on the record player, my dad and his brother would jump over fiery glitter cones for our amusement. My uncle, a railroad car inspector, would demonstrate train signals with a Roman candle instead of a lantern. The day after Fourth of July was fun, too. My dad and I would have another little barbecue with the leftover hot dogs, potato salad and sodas. I'd watch my dad clean the burn marks off the multi-colored stone patio and I'd help hose it down. It was always a warm, sunny day. The red bougainvillea next to the patio would be in full bloom. My dad ensured that Halloween was always fun, too. Since as far back as I can remember, he would don a scary mask as he handed out treats for the neighbor kids. He would buy the candy bars I had to sell at school and hand those out, too. Even this last Halloween at age 86, he put on a scary mask to amuse me and to pose for photos. He wore a necklace of blue colored lights to add an eerie glow. Trick or treaters stopped coming to our door in recent years, but we still had each other. Times may have changed, but my dad never changed. He was always young at heart. He remained the same adorable father he was since the day I was born. I can't help crying when I think of how good my dad was. He was as chivalrous as they come. He would rescue ladies in distress. He was always ready to offer a helping hand, physically or financially. He was the most generous man I knew. He wasn't obligated to pay alimony, but he gave my mother money each month to help support her and her son, until my half brother came of age. He helped care for his sister when she was stricken with scleroderma, a terrible crippling illness. He also helped care for his father when he was dying from stomach cancer. He helped me care for our great uncle after he had a stroke. My dad dropped out of high school to help support his family. He gave his mother money from his paycheck for the rest of her life. He left a good job as a purchasing agent, to work as a janitor so he could work nights. This way he could walk me to school and back until I was old enough to walk by myself. Sometimes I pass by the spot where he used to wait for me after school all those years ago. We would walk up the hill toward home, then we'd watch Captain Satellite, Kimba and Speed Racer on tv together. I hardly see any kids walking home with their dads now. I don't even see many "free range" kids anymore. When I was a little girl, my dad would tell me bedtime stories that he improvised with quaint sayings like, "I see, I see, said the blind man." He used to take me to the Hall of Sciences and the Morrison Planetarium at Golden Gate Park. On summer nights, we'd look for shooting stars together in the backyard over cups of hot Ovaltine. He put fluorescent stars on the ceiling of my bedroom and painted pictures of the planets with fluorescent paint which he illuminated with an ultraviolet lamp. My dad was a dreamer of dreams. One of his favorite sayings was, "It was meant to be." He wanted me to have a good education, so when I was in second grade, he bought me several sets of books from the door to door encyclopedia salesman. He never pressured me, but I wanted to make him proud. I graduated first in my class in grammar school and in high school. Then I won a full scholarship to USF. I dropped out in my third year to become the caregiver for my grandmother who helped raise me. I'll always be grateful to her for giving me a wonderful father. He was the greatest gift I ever had. My dad spent many happy hours perusing his stamp collection while listening to "Music of the Spheres" on the now defunct classical radio station, KKHI. Even watching my dad take a nap was memorable, because he always played good music when he was relaxing. We enjoyed going to flea markets, garage sales and used book stores. In later years, he helped me sell his collectibles on eBay. My dad loved stories of the Old West and prospecting for gold. We enjoyed panning for gold near Lake Tahoe and in the Mokelumne River. He bought a metal detector and we scoured the back yard in search of treasure. We found a souvenir token from the 1939 World's Fair and a very old rusted gun. I'll never forget my trip to the local Sears on Army Street with my dad, when he bought me my first tropical fish aquarium. I spent hours experiencing rapture of the depths in the privacy of my own bedroom. Then there were the times he took me and my cousins dropline fishing off of Muni Pier. He'd buy us hamburgers, fries and cokes for lunch. Another favorite memory was when my father made a huge kite for me out of plastic and wood. He put colorful balloons on the corners. The kite flew higher and farther than any kite I'd ever seen, until the string broke. My father and I were huge movie fans. In the days before video, we would go to classic movie revivals at theaters across San Francisco. Our favorite was the now defunct Avenue Theatre which used to play silent films on Friday nights with live Wurlitzer organ accompaniment. We'd buy chocolate prune cupcakes at Lido's Pastry a few doors down. They were the best cupcakes we ever tasted. Our family friend was the doorman, usher and he worked the candy counter. He mixed the best Cokes in town. In the days before video, during summer vacation, my dad would sometimes stop at the Doggie Diner on his way home from work at 2 in the morning! He would bring home hamburgers, fries and cokes, and we'd watch the late late show on "Movies 'Til Dawn". When we got our first vcr in 1982, we started collecting films like crazy. Then later we switched to dvd's, of course. In recent years, we watched films on Netflix, Roku and Amazon Prime. Every night was movie night at our house. We would binge-watch "Masterpiece Theatre" and "Boardwalk Empire". One of the last series we watched together was "Gran Hotel". I don't know how I am going to face the rest of my life without my beloved father. I cherish the happy memories he gave to me, but loneliness and emptiness will probably haunt me for the rest of my days. Now I have huge dvd and music collections and no one to share them with. When I hear the music my dad and I both loved, I am overwhelmed with sadness. Even thinking of our favorite films makes me sad. We used to quote lines from obscure films to each other. It was like a secret language which only we understood. We had running jokes that lasted for decades. Sometimes we could read each other's minds. I hardly turn on the tv anymore, because it makes me miss him too much. I got an email from Netflix informing me that they now have Series 3 of "Gran Hotel". I haven't watched it, because it would be too sad viewing it without my father. I can't even watch "Downton Abbey" anymore, because my dad isn't here to enjoy it with me. I knew losing my father would be the hardest thing that ever happened to me, but nothing prepared me for the pain and sorrow I am experiencing now that he's gone. Even though it's the natural order of things, how can I accept the unacceptable? People keep saying my father's spirit is in me and he wouldn't want me to mourn too long, but he didn't want to die either. Even if he had a full life, now my life is not full, because he's not here anymore. Does anyone truly have a full life? The more you love someone the bigger the emptiness when they're gone. I am grateful that I had my dear father for as long as I did, but it's not enough to take away the sadness and the longing for the person I loved best.
  25. My Dad and Me

    From the album My Dad & Me