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Approaching the one-year anniversary of my mother's passing


silverkitties

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Silverkitties, just found out the boo-boo on my the first sentence. I don't know what happened. When you don't want him to use upstairs or downstairs bathroom, stick a note saying "PLEASE DO NOT USE" or "OUT OF ORDER".

 

If he refuse to get a hearing aid, get a loudspeaker. Lol

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silverkitties

I have seriously been considering a megaphone, MSN. 

 

I really have no idea how much more I can tolerate. I'm trying my best to get him shipped off to Taiwan this winter. But he's like a giant turd that can't be flushed down the toilet. He also knows I'm the only one he can take advantage (apart from my mom, of course). 

 

When I was a teenager, I was embarrassed of him like so many other teens. But now, I'm even more embarrassed of him than ever; in some ways, it's great I never married because I would be way too ashamed to introduce him to ANYONE.  I swear if I ever do (highly doubtful now), I would hire someone to pretend to be my father. I would not allow this bozo to be anywhere near me. 

 

You should see him with other people; always going out of his way to defer to them.  You know how most American husbands know how to treat their wives like goddesses in public, always having others make way for them, complimenting them, and making sure they are BEST DRESSED?

 

 Not my ahole dad. There is NOTHING that is manly about him at all; not once has he ever treated mom like anything more than a servant. I guess that comes from growing up in a poor, uneducated family with ZERO morals. Mom used to explain that that's why he behaves the way he does; to which I asked WHY THE PHUCK DID YOU MARRY THIS CHUMP THEN? YOU KNEW HIM FOR 15 YEARS AND YOU STILL WANTED TO MARRY THIS NO-DIC LOSER? I've also told her on other occasions, "No wonder you guys took so long to conceive; dad had no dic juice in him AT ALL and  probably didn't know how to get it up. Seriously, he is such a loser engineer who doesn't even know how to use a microwave or the common sense to figure out that you don't put a humidifier in the bathroom! (A mistake that set us back some $700). 

 

 I wish a giant heart attack on that ahole. Nature should not allow such a panzy ass dork to survive for so long. 

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You make me laugh with the way in which you say things.Keep it up!

Why do family have to make things harder.

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The megaphone sounds like a great idea.Love to be a fly on the wall!!My mother used to often say she was going to get one so she didn't have to yell.Sounds hilarious but I know it's not funny.

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Silverkitties, I would have to agree with Lisa 100%. The way you say things makes me laugh, too. Yes, do keep it up!  :D

 

My brother is going down that road being deaf. I tell you. I used to help pick his ears. OMG! So much earwax. I told him I can still do for him, but, he refuses to let me. He's afraid that i'll poke him, now that I'm a leftie and don't trust me. :unsure:  :huh: Sometimes I have to yell in order for him to hear. I used to help my mom pick her ears. Years ago, I helped my niece pick out a hard piece that felt like rubber. It was very hard getting it out and took maybe about a week to finally get it out.  

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Silver,

Sorry for your struggle with your dad.. but as Msn and Lisa said, the way you write about him is very funny. Im very sad as usually always but your words made me laugh. :)

Susie

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Lisa, if you were a fly on the wall, you'd have to worry about getting hit by a book :) Every time I argue with dad, I end up screaming and throwing books at the wall behind him. I just decimated an old phone book after throwing it 5x at the wall while he was eating. (I was really ticked off because he got up after 12 pm AGAIN. )

 

MSN, Zsuzsi, and Lisa--Sometimes it's funny when I think about it two days later :) I try to make light of it by remembering all the things mom and I said about him.  :lol: Apart from my mom, there was no one who knew about any of my dad's affairs; I think it's because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt; mom was always somewhat ambivalent. On one hand, she would continue to lash out at him. And at other times, she would tell me he wasn't cheating because she would know. (Like mom, how? You didn't catch him cheating until people actually told you!)  I think dad took full advantage of this.

 

My mom and I had a good laugh about a story of a wife in Wisconsin who arranged to have her husband humiliated by 2 of his mistresses. All of them were ticked off enough and got revenge when the 2 mistresses decoyed him into a hotel. They bound him to the bed, stripped him, slapped him around, and superglued his *ahem* manhood to his thighs.  :lol: In the end, all the women were acquitted.  :D

 

 Laughing at my dad is the only way I can keep myself sane in all my general unhappiness.

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What does your dad do when you yell at him? does he ever yell back at you (when he can hear).I often remember all the arguments that have gone down over the years(mostly my mum and her mum) and piss myself laughing at some of things that were often said,mostly by my mum to get a rise out of her mother.Some of the things she used to say were truly disgusting but appealed to my rather warped sense of humour.

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The thing that ticks me off, Lisa, is that he never responds when I'm talking to him--nicely. He did the same with mom too; all he'd ever do was grunt. IT IS AS THOUGH WE WERE SERVANTS.  They never ate together either; dad would have mom serve him meals in the family room even though we disapproved of it because he'd drop food all over the floor. There's no question about it: if stress exacerbates cancer, he KILLED mom by stressing her out. 

 

So what usually happens is that when I am already very annoyed and he doesn't answer, I get even angrier, because I know he would never treat others like that. That's when I start pounding the table and throwing things. 

 

What he does now is try to ignore me when I'm yelling; it's as though he wants me to break my vocal cords. So I keep telling him all the things which annoy him:

 

1. He killed mom

2. He's better off dead since he's already brain dead.

3. His concern about sleep is ridiculous. And if he's so concerned, he's better off dead. He oughta find himself a coffin and have himself buried. THEN HE CAN SLEEP AS LONG AS HE WANTS.

4. His parents are kunts: every night, he prays to those phuckers. So I tell him too that the only thing his father did right was dying younger than him.

5. Then I scream at the top of my lungs, HURRY UP AND D-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-E-E! D-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I--I-I--I-I--I-I-I-E-E!!!!!

6. And once more: YOU KILLED MOM! 

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My gradmother used to switch her hearing aid off during an argument which would make my mum even angrier if that's possible.

I do however think if your mum went to the trouble of cooking a nice meal it is only manners to eat together.My brother did that also,refused to eat with us,but has more to do with his illness than anything else.

Is there any way to teach your dad a lesson perhaps?

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Lisa, my dad does not learn...every night, it's the same thing; in fact, I should just accept it and realize he won't as he never learns from mistakes (even dumber than our cats) and refuses to. His whole life has been about doing and saying...before thinking. He always promised my mom he'd cut off all relationship with his kunt cousin but never did. He always promised he'd get the remainder of his pension from Taiwan, but didn't do so until after mom's death. (There is LONG story here but I will leave it here for now.) 

 

And yet, even though I know he won't change, it really does annoy the crap out of me because I know his actions have contributed to killing my mom. I know when I am screaming at him, I don't actually expect him to change, but I am so angry because of mom. It really is payback in many ways. 

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silverkitties

Here we go again.

 

I went to return 2 packages at the post office this morning. Dad wanted to tag along so I let him. 

 

We went and ate at Mooyah's where I used to eat with mom so many times; I can't remember the last time we ate there, but it was probably back in 2013. One thing I noticed was that it didn't taste as good as the good ol' days so I didn't get a major pang. Meanwhile, I noticed there weren't as many people--even at 1 am when everyone seems to take lunch. So maybe it wasn't my imagination?

 

But sadness and anger started to kick in when I went shopping for groceries. (I let dad sit at Mooyah's since he'd be less of an encumbrance.) I saw quite a few women in their 80s and even 90s--actually, I had already noticed a woman about my mom';s age at the post office. Just kept thinking WHY OH WHY COULDN'T THAT BE MOM? When I see these women, all I could think was PHUCK DAD FOR KILLING MOM! 

 

Then when I was done, I pushed the cart all the way to the restaurant (thank god there were no limits). We waited and waited for nearly an hour for the cab. It made me even more ticked off at dad. He promised he was going to learn to drive twice last year, but never did--even though he had me waste $100 on fixing the garage door. And meanwhile at home, I have to do EVERYTHING FOR HIM. 

 

I should learn to drive. But the fact is I'm almost intimidated to do so...and I don't want to learn to drive for my dad. If it were for my mom, I think I would--just not this buzzard who never lifted a finger for me. Hate the asshat! 

 

WHY CAN'T HE JUST KICK THE BUCKET?!?!?! 

 

I WANT MY MOM, NOT THIS DUNGHEAP! CAN YOU TELL I AM BLOODY PISSSED OFF?

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Naah!!!! I don't think Silver is mad, Lisa!!  ;)

 

Sorry Silverkitties. I just had to, but, on a more serious note, I'm glad you vented. I would feel the same way, too, if I were wearing your shoes.

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Today marks a year since my mom's memorial service. 

 

I don't feel as depressed as I did before the passing of her angelversary. And I've noticed in the last week that although I have pangs from recollections, they don't last as long.

 

I wonder if it's because I've started to contemplate the possibility of seeing my mom in the afterlife?

 

Last night, I found myself wondering what it would be like to pass and see mom again. Would she be waiting for me at the pearly gates--just like she waited for me at the airport or the train station? Would our cats be with her? Would there be a private hang-out space for us where we could discuss all the things that have happened since we separated? Would we find ourselves walking invisibly amongst the throngs in New York and London like we always did? Would we comment on the latest fashions and reminisce over the things we bought together?

 

It actually made me fall asleep w/ greater ease than I had in ages.

 

Then I had a bizarre, yet happy dream--even though it didn't involve mom. In fact, I'm not sure she was even alive in this one. It was odd because it involved a test: I dreamt that I had totally aced an exam even though I haven't taken one in ages....some 20 years ago? I dreamt that I was getting a university wide distinction for my knowledge of literature....and what was funny was that one of the areas was one where I have very little knowledge of--Southern literature!  The curious part is that I couldn't figure out whether I was being awarded as an instructor or student! At any rate, all the men were British--but the surroundings were American; I'm guessing Chicago where I used to live. I was trying to figure out which restaurant I wanted to celebrate at by myself ....then I woke up.

 

Damn, it was only a dream! And it was a Sunday too--which meant I wouldn't get any news ( especially since I hadn't turned in anything since October).  I mention this because there was one night in highschool when I dreamt that I won an award for a story...and the very next morning, the teacher had announced very unexpectedly that I had won 2nd prize for a story. 

 

So I looked up the significance of the dream--acing a test. Supposedly it means that I am ready for my next stage in life: does it mean I'm ready to move on? I really and truly hope it means that I have come to accept my mom's death and that it entails fewer pangs and periods of debilitating depression. 

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Wow, Siverkitties! I'm glad that you weren't depressed. I wonder how I will be when I reach that 1 year mark. I thing like some has said that time is what's going to heal all wounds.

 

A neighbor came to my house last month to tell me that at her church was going to have a session for grieving people who lost a loved one. She asked if I wanted to joined and I declined because I don't think I really need it. Yes, I have my moments and that natural. With time and online support is what gets me through it all. And I'll always have my moments of missing mom.

 

Yes, Silverkitties, I sometimes wonder about passing myself. How would it be on the side? Like you say, will loved ones be waiting at the pearly gates just like at the airport terminal? Wow! This is exactly how I thought of it before, too.

 

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silverkitties

MSN, the first year will always be challenging....no two ways about it. Since you lost your mom in March, it's perhaps only natural that the pain of the loss still stings and sears.

 

I think for me the greatest challenge was being isolated--and having no one with whom to discuss mom: it was bad enough to have lost her, but when I couldn't really discuss her with anyone, it made my loss feel that much harder. It was as if she had been fully excised out of my life when I wasn't really ready to let go. This had become a serious problem for me after January--3 months after her death--as I increasingly lost contact with people around me and knew that I didn't want to keep plying the same stories, dreams, longings about mom. The anxieties over everything else in my life over the months--the book, the roof, the cats--didn't help either. 

 

This site has been my only true outlet, and I owe my thanks to folks like you and everyone else who has responded: in a way, I guess I could say that you've all tried to fill some of the missing space, that gaping vacuum, that my mom occupied. I think your moms would feel proud that you've passed on their legacy with their compassion and empathy. 

 

Yes, I have had sad days since the anniversary of my mom's passing--but I feel that I am also beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. At least, I know what to expect and know that the bad days will come--and pass. I am also beginning to feel comforted by happy thoughts of mom rather than saddened, even though I know I will never enjoy them again with her. I can't say if I've accepted her death truly and philosophically: there's definitely a part of me that's clinging to the idea of seeing her one more when I pass. It's like that Diana Ross song--someday (some sweet day) we'll be together.

 

And yet, there's a part of me that's also appreciating all that I've done with her. When I think back to our shared enthusiasms, our jokes, and humor, I find myself thinking, "that's the way we were." And Mom and I loved to laugh. Sometimes, when I see or read something absurd, I feel a little closer to her, knowing that she probably would have been amused. Mom's laughter has always signaled to me that nothing is so dire or hopeless. 

 

I will still be here, though--I know that there will be miserable days when I'm really missing my mom. But I know they will not be interminable. And I know too I will have friends here who understand the whole journey. In turn, I hope I can help others here--just as you've helped me. 

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Yes, it seemed like I've known you a long time, Eve. I have to THANK YOU for starting this thread. It was a wonderful idea indeed. I think I wouldn't have met such wonderful people like you who I can call FRIENDS. Everyone on the same boat. Everyone very understanding. We laugh. We joke. It's a true blessing that I found this online site.

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silverkitties

Eve, grief can really jerk one around--but also change one for the better as you've suggested: I think it's not just our empathy and compassion that grows, but our scope of vision. Suddenly, we begin to see the world and the life around us much more fully; your example of the refugees and wars around us speak to that. (Btw, I think it's shameful that politicians are exploiting these tragedies to incite even more hatred and violence!) It's not that we would not have deplored these events without the deaths of our moms, but somehow, they strike us all the more. We know too well just how some of the survivors are feeling.

 

I know it will take a while before any of us feel completely comfortable in the wake of our moms' passing. Even as I cheered the fact that my grief is becoming more manageable more than a year later, I am still confronted with many recollections and memories as I visited my dad in the hospital yesterday. So far, I've been holding up; I don't know if it's because we're in a different hospital or because my dad's situation does not look as hopeless. And yet, I can't help but remember all those trips to the cafeteria  when I was visiting mom; all the waves of hopefulness followed by despondency as she neared her end. I also think of the time when dad was sick some 5 years ago and mom and I visited him in the hospital.  

 

Yet, who can truly understand these feelings? Only people here. Bless you all for reading and responding to my thoughts on mom.

 

And not least, tolerating my rants....speaking of which, I feel one coming on, raging like a mad bull as I think about those kunt widows with their precious spawn and grandspawn: all the phucks who've told me "your mom lived a long life" just because she lived a longer life than their kunt husbands. TOUGH SHITT, Bitches: you probably killed your husbands with your UGLINESS, inside and out!  The same KUNTS who urge me to learn to drive even though I am going through so much--ESPECIALLY when they all know what my dad is like. If their private-school, Ivy-educated SPOILED BRATS were writing books, do you think they would pressure them to learn to drive as well? What would happen if one got into an accident while distracted and confused and had to be hospitalized? How would the book be written? GOD DAMN THESE KUNTS for telling me in so many words to "deal with it." GODDAMN THESE KUNTS  for suggesting that I not wear heels and wheel a phucking trolley to the market. WHY DO I NEED TO SUFFER SO MUCH INDIGNITY RIGHT IN THE WAKE OF MY MOM'S DEATH? WHEN THEY KNOW IT IS SO TRYING FOR ME? Again, you know they would never treat their precious spawn, particularly daughters,  like that. 

 

I guess that's the rub: I am no one's daughter. No one will ever look out for my best interests like my mom. 

 

I tell you, GODDAMN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE KUNT WIDOWS in the TAIWANESE ASS-ociation of CONNECTICUT; I PRAY THAT A TRAGEDY WILL BEFALL THEM EITHER DURING THE REMAINDER OF THIS YEAR OR THE NEXT; HOPING THEIR WHELPS WILL SUFFER TERMINAL ILLNESS; CHOKE TO DEATH ON THEIR HOLIDAY MEAL; GET VIOLENT FOOD POISONING SO THAT THEY THROW UP ALL THEIR FOOD AND ORGANS; GET FIRED/LAID OFF; GET HIT BY AN 18-WHEELER AND HAVE ALL THEIR ORGANS, LIMBS ALL MASHED TO INDISTINGUISHABLE BITS; THEIR XMAS TREE FALLS ON THEM; GET BURNED TO DEATH BY OVERTURNED CANDLES AND COOKING ACCIDENTS, WISHING THEM A MERRY X-TINGUISHED XMAS AND HAPPY NEW DEATH YEAR! ETC.

 

 

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silverkitties

I want to die more than ever.

 

What's the use of living at this point? No steady job, No husband or partner. No secure finances. 

 

And who knows if I will find something even when I finish my book? What if others just decide I'm just too old or not 'hot enough? (And yes,  academe--stodGy as it might seem--has been increasingly looks conscious.) Be a size 0 or 2--or be consigned to oblivion. 

 

I am not photogenic. Even if I get to be a size 0 or 2 again, I don't have the cheekbones or looks: despite having what everyone calls a great sense of style since I almost always get complimented every time I go out.  And if I have none of these all-important physical attributes, how am I going to flog my book? Social media and photos are very important--if sometimes not the most important. 

 

WHY NOT JUST DIE when I am too chicken to get plastic surgery?

 

At least, when mom was alive, there was something to keep me going. We could laugh about things. Mom would always tell me I look like something out of a magazine and I would say "well , why is no one asking me for a piece of my kunt?" it's not like we live in the 19th centry when found Jane Austen "intimidating." If they find you smart and hot today, they will ask for sex and marriage (in precisely that order).   "Hi baby, do you wanna see my sausage?" Period. In fact, even if a woman is dumb and hot, they'll try to find something to admire in her: hence, the number of attractive but dumb women CEOs. It's not that women are dumb--it's that men keep promoting the ones who are dumb and hot. 

 

My idiot dad is perhaps the best example of this. He always finds something to praise in an all but practically braindead woman, providing she's got legs. I still can't get over how he dumped my mom for a woman who was far less educated than her because his kunt cousin conformed to his idea of beauty--tall and thin. (The woman is hideous, IMO--serious skin problems and the broadest, ugliest, coarsest face--just like all the ugly women on his side of the family!)

 

I really, really CURSE my dad's parents for creating and raising that stinking turd who oozed out of his mama's anus.  He probably surprised her when he plopped into the toilet w/ a resounding splash. (Wow! A record 8-lb turd--oops, it's a baby!) GOD DAMN THEM!  I am so sick of yelling and arguing with that phucking IDIOT!!!! And GOD DAMN MY MOTHER FOR MARRYING THAT TURD!  I inherited my dad's shittty looks but my mom's great taste and talent--which means the latter two are ALL BUT COMPLETELY wasted.  Had it been the other way around, i WOULD HAVE BEEN MUCH HAPPIER! 

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OMG this made me laugh Silver,those choice of words LOL !!

I think we all wish for what we were not blessed with,it's human nature.I glad I have no partner at the moment as I couldn't imagine even wanting sex feeling so tired and sad all the time.Just the thought of being pestered with a guy wanting it would make me want to kick his balls in.

I am not photogenic either but don't really care.I'm not fat or skinny just a healthy weght and consider myself rather plain.

Looks should not come into selling a book,it's just ridiculous but I know how shallow people can be.F..k Them all.

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silverkitties

I agree with you Lisa, looks should not matter for books (that rhymes!)...but I guess we live in a visual age. Remember the days when newspapers rarely had photos of their journalists? Now it's commonplace. 

 

There was one historian which none of us could figure out why she had won an award for best biography. Then I discovered later on that she had posed nude for an upscale fashion magazine! 

 

Ironically, what depressed me most, though, was a comment that one older male colleague made.  He told me I was attractive and that such things do matter for hiring. It actually made me feel less confident because I realized there are so many better looking people than me....and if attractiveness matters that much, they will certainly be chosen over me. 

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Hello everyone!!! My name is Alicia and I am new to this forum. I am 28 from KY lost my mother back on February 26,2015 she originally had non-small cell lung cancer stage 3/4 and then went into remission May 2014. At the end of 2014 beginning 2015 she started acting weird could not walk and was falling so I took her to her Oncologist who sent for stat MRI and that is where we learned of her ping pong ball sized tumor on February 8th,2015 not only that she had it on other organs as well. The doctors kept her in the hospital for a week to keep swelling on her brain down and start her treatments and then the 16 of February she started radiation only making it through 3 treatments when deciding for her quality of life she wanted to stop. By this time she had already been staying at my house and I was taking care of her and her doctors agreed this was the best method as we wanted quality not quantity for her and I told my mom I wanted what she wanted. On the 21st of February Hospice was called in to help and then they came to explain everything that was going on mom was still talking and awake and then a few days later she was in the bed and never got back up until finally passing the night of February 26, at 7:11pm.

My mom raised me as a single mother and we were beyond close. I feel like a piece of me left with her, not only that but I have a little girl who she got to spend time with for almost a year and she was her world and that breaks my heart that she is not here to watch her grow up.

My dilemma with everything is my mom entrusted me with everything, all her belongings to take care of everything and basically I took a couple weeks off work took care of her cremation, her apartment, and I did not grieve. Went back to work kept working, stayed busy. Now I feel like I am experiencing that grief 10 months later it just hit me I'm majorly depressed and I know the holidays are not helping especially with her one year around the corner, but has this happened to anyone else?

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silverkitties

Apipkin, I'm sorry to hear of your loss. What you described did not happen to me--but I've read posts from several people who've experienced this. In a sense, it's been repressed--if only because of your devoted handling of your mom's affairs. (And I'm sure she'd be proud of it!) Now that you've completed these tasks, you have time to think: and that's why it's all flooding back to you. 

 

I think one of the worst feelings is wanting to discuss her--but not having the space to do so: you may feel self-conscious with others, fearing they might admonish you with "you ought to be over it now." That is such arrant BS: take as long as you need. 

 

I have found this site helpful in allowing me to address my feelings for my mom--sharing my memories of our past--up through the anniversary of her death. Many here are very supportive too. We may not always respond immediately, but there will always be someone to share thoughts. 

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silverkitties

Hello Mom,

 

It's been a year and 5 months since you disappeared from my life forever. Sometimes it feels like a long time ago. And sometimes, it feels like it was just days. 

 

Yesterday was one of those days. You see, I was cleaning my study because it's such a mess and I feared that your little sweet boy--your furry grandson--might have ringworm: which would entail a thorough detoxification of the house.  (Thank God the vet ruled it out today.) 

 

Nonetheless, as I cleaned yesterday afternoon, I picked up your health records which had somehow gotten scattered on the floor. Pangs ripped me through me again. As I looked at your treatment on April 27th, your stroke came to mind....you had just entered the hospital on the 24th and by the 27th, you seemed to be well out of danger. In fact, they were even thinking of sending you home in 2 days. (That was not to be as they wound up sending you to rehab.) Then I saw a requisition for a blood draw on the June 4th. I remember that day too....it was a happy one: I still recall how delighted you were when I gave you the little plastic makeup bag that pictured a cat which looked just like ours. I recall how we got picked up that day before heading to Lowe's to buy a fan. Then there was a notification that your CT scan had been approved....yes, that was one which was going to show whether your cancer had spread or not.

 

Then I started picking up the catalogs on the floor. They were all over the place as I was digging through a pile of old catalogs and magazines that got strewn around last week as I was searching for ones I didn't want so I could throw them at dad. (LOL, I struck him with 3 of them that day he flooded the entire kitchen w/ gallons of water.) Again, all the memories came back. I could remember early spring 2012 when I was feeling miserable when they initially denied me teaching...and then I remembered the day I got back from NYC after a conference, feeling so happy to be back home again with you. I remember the fall of 2012, when I had just submitted the book proposal and was eagerly awaiting news....I remember how optimistic we felt as we watched movies together through the fall. Early 2013....yes, we went to New York together....and although I didn't get anything for myself, I still recall how happy I was to see you buy a bottle of your favorite perfume and how much pleasure we had as we ate our Japanese pastries on the train ride back home. (You know I enjoyed those train rides back home with you more than anything else!) 

 

When I went to my room to search for a lipstick, I saw all the ones I bought around 2013-4:  they reminded me of the time you and Dad were in Taiwan and when I feared I would never see you again (little did I know that she would die in less than a year). Another reminded me of early 2014 when we were getting one of our cats shaved because of his mats. And yet another brought back memories of the day you returned from rehab.

 

And then that night as I watched 2 movies from 1997 which I assigned to the class, I thought of the times you had visited me in England. I thought of our days in Oxford, in London, in Bath....and how much fun it was to share a room with you like best friends. I thought of the days I returned home from the library to see you in the kitchen preparing a duck. The days we had lunch together in town and browsed around afterwards before doing our evening grocery shopping. And then sometimes, there were evenings that we would go across the street for some Indian food.  

 

Every one of these memories stings so much right now. How happy I was....even when there were only weeks before you died. But you see, at least you were still around. I remember thinking that every moment I had with you was precious even though I still had hopes that you'd be around for a while longer.   

 

Mom, how I wish you lived and Dad died instead. Right now, as I was typing this, he nearly burned down the kitchen, no doubt thinking of his kunt cousin or thoughts of picking up kunts at his conference. (Maybe it's a CUNTference?) I am so sorry mom. There really is no God at all, as far as I'm concerned. You were the one who worked so hard for our family. You sacrificed so much so your jackass could phuck around w his kunt while doing non-lucrative garbage research. You were the only one who cared about me. You were there to lighten my load when I was writing away. You were there to reward me with a bit of fun when I finished a project. You were the only one who would give me little surprises every now and then to make me feel a bit happier....you did that so long as you've lived, Mom. And as such, I feel I still owe you so much. 

 

Now, look who's in your place--your complete reverse, asshole Dad.(Dad deserves an "e" in his name, so he can be DEAD!) Asshole who can't drive. Asshole who can't do finance. Asshole who can't earn money either: every father with his educational and professional background can leave millions for their children, EXCEPT HIM.  Asshole who has not the least common sense about using the bathroom. Asshole who steps in crap and says he doesn't know it. (Maybe because $hit can't tell $hit?) Basically, AN ASSHOLE WHO HAS NO VALUE AND DESERVES TO BE DEAD.

 

I;ve told him that if I get a call for ransom after he's been kidnapped, I'll tell them to go ahead and take him as he's good for nothing.  

 

Even though I'm busy every day, I still think about you every night. You see, I'm up to nearly 4 am every night--like the night I lost you. I look at your urn and the new monkey compact. I look at them and cry as I climb into bed, knowing I won't see you the next morning or the one after. I cry knowing I'll never have any pleasure in my life. 

 

I WANT TO DIE!

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Silver, I could feel your pain as I read your letter to your mom. Everything we do, we're constantly reminded of what life was like with our parent(s). The pain just won't stop. I was lying in bed a little while ago, trying to go to sleep, but I couldn't. I just kept crying and wanting to die. I finally got up and came here to read posts and I know I'm not alone.

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silverkitties

Enin, that is the hardest part. I have to say, though, last year was probably the pits: even worse than right now. I think it;s hitting me again because my dad's behavior has been so problematic. I mean right when I was typing that other post he managed to burn the kettle again! 

 

And now he's going to a conference. I am really worried. Not that I care about what happens to him but what happens if he has an accident or loses his credit card, if he can't get up on time for his paper (today he got up at 2pm!), if he does anything horrifically stupid that I have to pay for it. 

 

If mom were alive both of us would have been able to talk him out of it. He never takes me seriously until something happens--and then he says, oh well, tough. Actually, he did that with my mom too, although somewhat less frequently. But he still managed to get his way more often than not. 

 

My life feels like all the joy has been sucked out. Not one reprieve anywhere. I can barely work on my book because of all the time teaching, cooking, cleaning, sorting, paying bills and worse--arguing with dad nonstop because he is so stupid. In fact, I wonder if this is freaking out my cats--and that's why one has been losing his fur. 

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Silver, I've had many stressful times in my life and I understand the feeling of being overwhelmed, but I can't imagine what you must be going through with your dad. That's more than a person should have to put up with, even if they didn't have so many other responsibilities, like you do. I think I would consider talking to a medical professional who could advise me on what to do. I'm sorry you have to deal with all that while grieving for your mom. Life is so unfair. I hope you can find some help.

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Silver, I'm so sorry you have to put up with so much ****.I've missed your posts and how you express yourself regarding your dad. Life really is joyless without our mums,and I so wished I had died of a heart attack. I no longer care about living or anything really ,feel like just existing til it's time.

I'm thinking of you.

Hugs

Lisa

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silverkitties

Thank you, Enin and Lisa--tonight, I unexpectedly went to a restaurant which brought back memories of my mom in her last year....the last time I was there was back in late July 2014. I remember it was not long after she had returned from the hospital. We went with the same person who brought us the last time so I was doubly bombarded w/ recollections. 

 

The fact that there were so many families with happy moms and dads gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, it brought back memories of the days when I was little and excited to eat out. I remember those days when we would all get together in NYC with our relatives on the weekends to shop and have dinner together. At the same time, amidst all these memories, I was also feeling jealous--feeling so unhappy and miserable about today.  I don't think anyone felt worse than me. I wanted to cry so badly. 

 

Thank God when I returned home, there was a slew of posts in my class so I couldn't dwell on the memories for that long. But now I'm missing mom all over again. 

 

Meanwhile, I just learned that Nancy Reagan died today at the age of 94....why oh why couldn't my mom live 12 more years? 

 

And yet, I also wonder, would I feel even more devastated if I lost her later? Even though I know there's a part of me that would at least be able to sigh with some relief that she lived a good long life. 

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silverkitties

Just when I thought everything was better, I started feeling blue all over again today.

Maybe because there wasn't much happening in my class today--which inevitably left me with more time on my hands even when I was busy with other tasks. Maybe because the 2nd anniversary of her first stroke passed two days ago (and yes, I thought about it a lot this past week, but not enough to depress me.) Maybe because it was overcast and rainy--which sometimes reminds me of the day she passed away. 

But maybe it's also because I went to vote in the CT primary today. Couldn't help but remember that during the presidential elections of November 2008 and 2012, both occasions were cloudy and somewhat chilly. But there were two important differences. First and most importantly from a personal view, Mom was alive; we both walked from our house to the high school, our local polling place. And on both occasions, we were very pleased with the election results. 

And now it seems so long ago. 

Although I wasn't always happy then, I wonder now if I'll ever be happy again. The fact that I read about the increased number of suicides of people in my generation just the other day certainly doesn't make me feel any better. I wonder if I will get anywhere; it just seems too late for that.  I wonder if I will ever have someone to love and reciprocate my love; although it seems too late for that too.  And while I know from the posts on this site that being married or having siblings doesn't always help and can even complicate things, I have never felt so thoroughly alone.  No one knows. No one cares. 

Surely there must be a painless way to off myself. Life simply isn't worth it without my best friend, mentor, confidant, Mom. Good moments always felt much better with mom. Bad moments then were also better than bad moments today. For instance, just the other day when I happened to find a bunch of my course evaluations, I recalled how happy I was and how mom made me feel that much prouder. Similarly, when I came across a really nasty email that I had sent the vice-provost, I remember how mom told me, "This sounds like a declaration of war. But you have every right to send it." I remember how we laughed when they found a course for me to teach, but I turned it down ( a course that was out of my subject area, didn't interest me, and which I didn't think was worth sweating over). Ha! I had little back then, but at least I had mom on my side. She, more than anyone else, knew I deserved more opportunities to teach than I got--especially when I was the only person in my subject area who got nominated for a teaching award. (Heck, none of the department chairs got nominated that year!) She, more than anyone else, knew I deserved a better life. 

And now, no one knows this at all. 

My life has not been an easy one. So much of it was a protracted struggle with my dad and so many of the powers that be. Every battle was hard fought--and I won a number of them. In fact, I even enjoyed fighting some of them. And now I feel so tired. Want to commit suicide but am too chicken.

The only thing I look forward to is sleeping. At least I can see mom in my dreams... 

 

 

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Awww Silver, I understand what you mean. All of life's problems were easier to deal with when we had our best friend by our side. I think of the suicide route too but am far to afraid in case I fail at it. There is nothing in this world I want that will make me feel whole ever again ,just the pain of emptiness and depression. I pray for a fatal heart attack to take me . Sorry your dad is so difficult, if only he would cooperate, your life would be a little easier. 

Big hugs 

Lisa 

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silverkitties

Thank you, Lisa--it's been such an ordeal. I know it's a challenge for both you and your brother and I'll bet his grief is also behind his pill popping. Neither he nor you have many friends so it exacerbates everything. 

It's strange. Part of me knows that at the end of the day, we're all so lonely without our moms. And yet, I just don't have the energy to go out and meet others--not to mention that at the bottom of my heart, I know no one will ever understand me like my mom did. No one will ever give me that unconditional love again.  It's a vicious cycle.  

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silverkitties

I can't believe it's been 3 years and a day since Mom passed away on that rainy morning of Saturday, October 4, 2014. 3 years have passed...and yet so much and so little seems to have changed.

I'll start with some of the positives. I can safely say that 2015 was undoubtedly the most difficult year. All the memories from 2014 and the preceding years still seemed so fresh and raw. Every day was packed with memories. Sometimes I'd wake up and the skies would remind me of a certain day I visited mom in the hospital. Another day, it would remind me of a day in England. Then when it came time to pick a lipstick to wear, going through the stash I had bought that year would remind me of the day I had worn one out with Mom. Or the day it arrived in the mail before mom and I went out to shop. Going out to shovel snow would bring back recollections of early 2014 when I shoveled the driveway while mom was in the kitchen. To make a long story short, every day was filled with so many different thoughts, reminiscences, and snapshots of the past, shot through with acute longings for a happier time together and knowing that I would never have them again.

As the one-year anniversary came and went, I continued to be haunted by memories....but they were now becoming suffused with a softer light. Sure, sometimes I would still feel immense hurt, especially on the days that my dumbass, deadbeat, douchebag dad behaved like the true unthinking moron he is (granted, a LOT of times), but happy memories were no longer always accompanied by the sharp pangs I felt in the preceding year. I began to look back on our times together in a new light. I thought about how fortunate I was to have mom and to have experienced all that we did: our travels, our celebrations, our shopping excursions, our pizza nights, and gardening stints.  I began to feel grateful that my mom did not die suddenly and unexpectedly when I heard news of that terrorist attack in Paris. So glad that I did not lose mom at an earlier age when I needed her even more. Could I imagine losing my mom at the age of 3 when I was so attached to her? 16 when my dad began cheating on mom? 27 when I lost a guy whom I had been seriously interested in for 4 years? I wondered too....what would it be like to lose mom at a later age when we have even more memories together? What would it be like to lose mom when I am old and feeble myself--how would I help her? And so on...Not that there is ever a right time to lose her, of course. Was 2-14 the most opportune year to lose her if I must?

2017 has been an especially challenging year, not so much because of grief, but because of personal difficulty with my father --reasons that are too much to deal with here. (Indeed, I already feel tired just thinking about it): much of which wound up making me long for mom all the more. If mom were here, I'd tell myself, Social Services wouldn't be making their troublesome visits.  I wouldn't feel so worried about staying in the hospital for a full recovery. I would have a chance to relax, kick back  and watch more movies with her. And on those days I went to teach in NYC, I couldn't help but wish that she were with me on the bus. How I longed to ask her more about the route taken by the bus on the Henry Hudson Pkway in the Bronx. WHen did we take this route? Is this how we went to Chinatown? New Jersey? And is that mall on the right hand side the old one where we used to go on Friday evenings? How nice it would be if mom were on that bus with me, staring at the stars through the bus window as we had done so many times on our night travels in NYC.

Mom, if only you knew how much I still think about you every week, every day, and every hour.How I wish I could get a sign from you. Was that you last night when the proch light that had been out for sometime suddenly turned on? Or has it just been temperamental on other occasions? 

But I was very happy to have a vivid dream about you last night. Perhaps because I'd been thinking about you all day as it was the third anniversary of your passing. Perhaps it was because of the porch light. Or the full moon which was shining through the windows facing the back yard. Whatever it was, I dreamt that I was working in the yard one sunny afternoon. Then suddenly, I saw you waving and heard you calling "I"m home": and I was so surprised as if I didn't expect to see you at all. And so you did too when you gave me a big hug, showing me a few yummy items you had bought.  It reminded me of the moment in The Sound of Music, my favorite childhood movie, where the kids suddenly see Maria again after searching for her at every abbey. (Maybe if I sing "My favorite things," mom will return?) As if I didn't know you had already died. Or had that occurred? (Sometimes it's hard to tell in dreams.)  You looked so spruced up, dressed in a yellow sweater and white skirt. Some of the people from the Taiwanese ASS-ociation showed up and they were surprised to see you too. At any rate, I had paperwork to do that evening but I was so overjoyed to see you that I didn't mind. At least you would be with me by my side.

I don't know when I realized I was dreaming but it was the most soothing one I'd had in a very long time, helping me drift further into sleep (I think).It wasn't until several hours later as I was waking up that I realized it was all a dream.I found myself in tears...something I hadn't done in a long time after a dream about mom. How I wish I could see her again so badly.  How I could get a hug from her.  I thought I was healing?!

Mom, there is now only one thing I wish for:that we will be reunited one day. I don't know how, when, or if that will take place. I want to be happy like all those other occasions when you picked me up at the airport or train station. Or when I waited for you at the bus station. Or those other occasions when I was so relieved to see you like when you returned home from Taiwan. Or even those times we bumped into each other unexpectedly at the mall. Life without you has been so incomplete: no wonder our meetings together are always happy, however brief.

Only you can make me whole again, Mom. I long for a time that we will never be separated again-- and you will be my side forever. A time when we will never worry about illness, departure, or anything else.

 

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Hi silverkitties, it's been a long time since you've been here. Should I ask how things are with your father?. 3 years still isn't all that long. It was two years July 14 since my mum passed. To say this year has been a rollercoaster is an understatement. I've completed six months of chemo, I've had a mastectomy, and right now I'm doing radiation. There have been so many days I've cried and begged my mum to come get me. I have wished to be where she is. So many days I've wished I could die of this shitty disease. I've missed her so much more this year, and still here I am breathing. They say time heals, but the emptiness, the big void that will never be filled remains. I hope you are well silver and find a little peace.

Lisa

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silverkitties

Hi Lisa, I've thought a lot about you, wondering how you were faring with your mastectomy and chemo: I recall you writing back sometime this past spring or early summer but was too exhausted to write at that time. Teaching, writing, my own health issues, and of course, my crazy ass dad were a struggle for me. Everything that could go wrong seemed to happen. Let me give you one example that happened back in early April. Since we were going to see Dad's doc, I begged him to change his diapers and clothes. He refused.

Anyway, when we got there, the doc commented on it and suggested that he get a guardianship. A few days later, this one nasty, officious  SS worker came over and said he was going to push for it. That got me worried as guardianships are riddled with problems--not least, serious abuse. Anyway, it took nearly a month to get these POS off our backs--only after I complained to the SS department about the worker and threatened to report him to our state legislators as well too.

This ticked me off because if dad had listened to me then, none of this crap would have happened. Even now, I have to yell and yell at him before he does anything. If I don't die of a heart attack or stroke, I will count myself lucky. In fact, I even wonder if my eczema is triggered by my dad. When I feel irritated, I can't stop scratching.

I've decided when he dies, I am going to write the nastiest obit ever. He's screwed my life from beginning to end, refused to fight for his share of our property and wasted our finances on that kunt of his. He has NEVER done anything for our family, and yet I'm slaving away for him. WHY????

This is not to say I don't have qualms. I know mom loved him: I have no idea why. He's plug ugly, stupid, and I hold him responsible for her death. In fact, not a day goes by without telling him he killed mom. I really want to dump his ashes when he dies. Yet I know she would not want it--and so every night I wonder what to do.

All i know is I want to reunite with my mom. That's all I want....I guess that's what we all want. 

 

 

 

 

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Hi silverkitties and Lisa. Silver, thank-you for your posts. I was feeling miserable this morning. I lost my mother a couple of months ago. I decided to come to this forum to just read as I am not capable of doing much today. I have spent the past few hours reading this whole thread from beginning to end.

Thank-you for making me laugh. I know it's not funny but when you vent about your D(e)ad, you have me rolling in stitches with laughter. I identify with so much of what you have written.

My father wasn't like your father. I had a great dad BUT my niece has a sperm donor like your dad. Like, I think it was Lisa who wrote, I call them sperm donors, not fathers.

These sperm donors are narcissists, losers and I agree, they should not be allowed to have children. It should be illegal for them to breathe. They are sooooo stupid, it is infuriating. They cause damage wherever they go and to whoever should be so unfortunate as to have to associate with them. They are extremely selfish, the only person in their world is him, until he wants something from us.

I too feel as though this narcissist who married into our family killed my mother through stress, the stress of seeing her daughter, grand daughter and great grand daughter homeless because the a*hole spent all the money including the family home that my parents helped them buy.

I agree with you. He should have died instead of my mother. He cut my mother's life short with stress.

With your situation, have you tried not reacting to his stupidities and narcissist behavior? Instead of getting all worked up about it, screaming and yelling, throwing books, just deal with the situation calmly and not get upset about it. The ideal is to get rid of him. As I told my sister, his wife, she should throw him in the garbage bin. Garbage belongs in the garbage bin. But if you are not able to get rid of him, are you able to train yourself to accept it and pray for the day he dies?

I say this because this piece of sh*t caused me (and my mother) a lot of grief. In the end, my mother's advice to me was to ignore him. So I ignore him now and just go about quietly fixing the damage he has caused. They are expensiiiiiiiiiive and they don't stop causing more trouble. I work a second job to pay for the damage this narcissist has caused. I used to get soooo angry but now I just do it cuz it's no use screaming.

It's no use screaming at them. It will only give us a stroke or heart attack. We either get rid of them if we can, or we put up with them and keep paying for the damages they cause.
Are you able to stick him in a home to get rid of him? I have no feelings for these kind of creatures. They are like vampires sucking it out of everyone around them. If my father was like that, I would stick him in a home and not even visit.

Just a thought

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and about the eczema. I had eczema last year for the first time in my life. The doctor said it can be stress related. At the time, I was stressed about about something this a*hole had done.

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Hi silver, it seems nothing much has changed with your father. Are you able to get any sort of break from it all ?. Being a carer is hard enough without all the uncooperative behavior on top.

It's been good to hear from you and catch up. 

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silverkitties

Hi Tessa and Lisa--Tessa, i'm sorry to hear about the loss of your mother: and that your in-law is part of the asshole dad club as one of our posters here calls it. I can  tell you first hand it definitely hurts because you can't help but think how much better it would be if he--rather than the mother--died. Every day I can't help but think how much more superior my mom is to my dad in every shape and form. And that she was probably the only one who ever loved me.

I am pretty much stuck yelling at him because he's the type that if you are nice    to him, he takes full advantage of it. Plus, he's deaf. I really wish I had the money to just stuff him in a nursing home, but alas I don't. Maybe when I earn money from my new  book, I can :lol:  Plus, I need to vent especially since there is no other release for me.

How I long for mom. My last 10 years have not been easy, and mom always made everything feel palatable. She was almost a reason for remaining alive. When I went away on trips, it was always great to call up and chat with her: and those chats would inevitably be over an hour even though I otherwise lived with her, Then when I got home, we'd go out to eat. She was there whenever I finished my work, and would always be sure to fix a favorite meal if I was very busy.

And now, what a contrast with my dad: a man who never listens, is slow and stupid so that one has to repeat everything at least 10x before he gets it. Sloppy,  scattered and unrefined so that I have to clean up more than ever. What a difference from mom who was always fast, tidy, knowing and, above all, appreciative.  I know, no amount of wailing will bring her back. I can sing "My favorite things" till I'm blue in the face, but she won't come running to the backdoor from outside. I can listen to all the songs I used to listen to in high school and know that I won't hear her call my name to go down for dinner. The phone will ring and I know it won't be her telling me that she'll be in home in a few minutes. At the same time, when I'm out, I can't help but think of how i passed by the very same places only a short while ago with mom.  So strange to think that depiste the passing of 3 years, I am still struck by little things like this.

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Hi Lisa *** HUGS *** I have an acquaintance-friend who had a double mastectomy about 7 or so years ago. She's been doing just fine for many years now. Hang in there.

Silverkitties - I don't know how you have made it so far, carrying such a big burden. When my dad got sick, 2 years before he passed away, there was 3 of us caring for him - my mother, sister and me. Even with 3 of us, I was stressed out trying to work plus take dad to doctors, hospitals. Dad kept falling over and mum would freak out. Those years were high stressed so I understand your need to vent. Keep venting, I'm listening :)

I know what you mean about your mom. They were always there for us. They knew what medicine to take for what ailment, cook our favourite meals to spoil us, nag me to eat. Nag, nag, nag. I miss my mum's nagging. Now I have to choose what TV channel to watch. Mum used to be in charge of the TV. We used to watch bad TV together. Now that she's gone, bad TV looks very bad.

Can you send your dad to Taiwan to his cousin mistress?

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Dear Silver,

Thank you for sharing your story with us. I know how much you love and miss your beloved mom. I can identify with your feelings because it will be one year soon since my father passed.

Dear Lisa,

Sorry to hear about your journey. Thinking of you. Sending you love and hugs. It's so hard. My mother is a breast cancer survivor. If you can believe it has been 14 years since she completed her radiation treatments. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

I miss the both of you from the main forum.

Take care my friends.

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silverkitties

Tessa, because my dad is such a big liar, I don't even know if his kunt cousin is still alive. Dad told mom she was dead and when I asked him later, he said that her neighbor told him. And now I wonder....did he find this out when he was visiting her? Or did her neighbor call up my dad to tell him? Either way, it makes him look very bad. Later on, when I asked him if she was dead or alive (because I know what a liar he is), he said he didn't know!

Last night, we had yet another fight. Scumdad complained that I didn't put his meds in his box. I hit the ceiling. EVERY WEEK, I do his meds and show him how everything has been placed in its proper slot, Monday through Sunday. If he's missing anything, it's his fault. But, of course, it happens just about every week, because idiot doesn't know what day of the week it is and is not smart enough to figure out that he must have taken meds for a different day of the week. (They're actually all the same for the morning, and for the afternoon.)  Nor surprisingly, we had another huge fight. I make sure to tell him every day that I hole him responsible for killing mom and that he's better off dead. AFter all, if you're braindead, you might as well be dead.

I just saw the best obit by a woman who hated her father. I'm planning on doing much the same: http://obit.carnesfuneralhome.com/leslie-ray-charping

Reader, when did your dad pass? You may have mentioned it once, but I've forgotten... (maybe I'm braindead too) Are you planning anything special? I remember preparing my mom's favorite chicken soup that firswt year.

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Hi Silver,

Please no worries. My father passed last year in October 2016. It will be the one year anniversary next weekend. I put an in memoriam in the newspaper for him. I plan to bring him flowers and his favorite coffee to his cemetery plot. My father's favorite Chinese dish was black bean sauce chicken feet. I thought about ordering that and bringing it to him at the cemetery. I think a lot about how to honor my dad. On Father's Day I donated to his favorite charity. I am currently writing a letter to him but have not decided if I should bring that with me to read to him. To be honest, after I bring the flowers and coffee, I just might have a quiet day at home.

I'm so sorry to hear about your dad and your difficulties with him. I know its not easy on you.

I know you loved your mom. I feel your pain. I too miss my dad horribly. Life is just not the same anymore.

Take care my friend.

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silverkitties

Those are all great ideas, Reader. I remember preparing my mom's favorite chicken soup: actually, it was consistently one of the favorite dishes my mom prepared for us over the years, especially when one of us was sick. Then in the last 2 months of her life, she taught me how to do it. It was one of the dishes I brought to my mom when she was still conscious.

This year I got really busy...so I decided to resurrect this thread and write about my current thoughts on her. Mom is, of course, rarely out my head; I guess reading my earlier thoughts on her and writing about her helps bring her back to me just a bit.

Life will never be the same for us. when i am not busy working on something, my life feels like such a vacuum without her. Sometimes, all I want to do is listen to sad songs and cry.

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I'm so sorry Silver. I know it's hard missing our beloved parents. I think making the chicken soup is a great way to honor your mom. Just living every day and getting out the door is half the battle and one way we can continue our parent's legacy.

I'm glad you started up this thread again. It is a great way to remember your mom and keep her memory alive.

Thinking of you of you all.

 

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silverkitties

Well, Eve, mine has come and gone....although today was wet and muggy, reminding me of the day she passed. I guess another warm, rainy October day will never be the same again. I thought of you the other day too when the anniversary of your mom's stroke approached.

Reader, yes, sometimes getting up and out is just half the battle. Sad but true.

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