I lost my father yesterday morning

[KatNtre]

I need someone’s input on this. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I need to say it all before I break down. I’m 14 years old and my parents have been separated for over 2 years but have been in an unhealthy relationship all of my life. We still live in the same house. My father was opposed to the idea of getting divorced or separated but that all changed when we received an eviction notice about a month ago. We had 1 and half months of getting everything out of the house. My mom quickly found a house a week later meant for just her and me. My father was of course heartbroken and wrote letters to my mom asking for forgiveness since he has done many vile things. My father wasn’t a bad man but when it came to being a husband, no one should have to live with that. 2 nights ago I arrived from an amusement park with my close friends at home and waited for their parents to pick them up. I had slept over with all my friends at my uncles house. Meaning the last time I saw him was in the in the morning. I didn’t say much. Maybe mumbled a “see you later?”. Not even a hug. When we got there we saw my dad sleeping on the couch. It was around 11 which was already odd considering he never slept this early and also never slept on the couch. I didn’t wake him. Once everyone got picked up, my mom and I went upstairs. I even sent him a text goodnight hoping that he would read it and that we would talk in the morning. My mom left early for work in the morning, like I said they never talked anyway. It was around 9:30 when I went downstairs, my father in the same position on the couch, his hand on his heart. I texted my mom that he was in the same position, and then I got even closer. I touched him, he was ice cold. His yellow tinted eyes staring at the ceiling and the dried blood creeping out of his mouth. The chair was toppled over and dirt and plants were everywhere. I didn’t see this last night. I screamed for him. Smacked him. Anything to get him up. But I already knew. I called the police and they came straight away, they pronounced him dead. Dead already for a minimum 4 hours. All of my family came. My mom and I sobbed and fell to the pavement. Police are conducting an autopsy, we find out tomorrow afternoon. I can’t sleep or eat or barely talk. All I can see is his cold lifeless body on the couch and his yellow eyes. How am I ever going to get over this.

[ashleybaraga]

I was never the one to find my dad dead, but my brothers were the ones to find him basically dead. All of my family except me went to eat and they found him on the ground unconscious. I remember seeing him in the hospital lifeless and I still get images of seeing him in the hospital. I may not have had the same experience but I just wanted to say you will not really get over everything but you will be able to cope better soon. Things took a long time for me to realize that he was actually gone and was not going to walk through the front door. I am so sorry you had to go through that but just know he is happy now and is watching over you. 

[Nicole-my grief journey]

KatNtre,

My heart and soul are broken for you. It’s so painful, confusing and traumatic for that to have happened to you. I have gone through it in the past and am going through it in a different way again now. You and I are different ages, but believe me when I say, that I know the emotions, feelings, shock, uncertainty, and being scared, confused, spinning. You may feel like you don’t know how you will get through this, but you will. I didn’t think I could and I have, more than once. You have to ask your mother to get you into a therapist who deals with grief and trauma straight away. That is key in helping you to work through this. Not months from now, but as soon as possible. I understand that she will be dealing with her own grief and a lot of decisions, but bring it up to her now because sometimes it takes a little while to get an appointment. It’s the most important thing in recovering. It doesn’t take away the loss and hurt, but it will teach you coping skills. You have to have them. You have to talk as much as you can to people you trust and get your feelings out. Don’t hold them inside. Get a journal and start writing every day. Cry as much as you feel and as often as you need to. Again, I’m so sorry and I’m praying for you. 

[Vickylouxo]

@KatNtre I am so sorry for what you have been through and I cannot imagine what that must of been like to see. I lost my dad just over 1 year ago, and it still doesn't feel real when I actually say that. I am 26 & He was 56, healthy & happy and he had a heart attack when he got home from work. We tried very hard to resuscitate him and so did the paramedics but it was too late even though we acted within minutes of him collapsing. I also seen things that I wish I would of never of witnessed, so I understand how it stays in your head. Life is just so unfair sometimes. Grief is such a hard thing to go through at any age, so my heart really does go out to you especially given what you have seen. In your situation it is very new so you will still be on shock but you can get through this! I know that sounds impossible right now but you can and you will. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to talk, talk. Go with whatever your feeling at that moment and it will help you to grieve. Take each day as it comes & at your own pace! This will bring you even closer to your mum & you will find strength from each other. Counselling is deffinetly recommended because it gives you a chance to talk to someone who doesn't know you or your situation and allows you to get things off your chest. I really wish this wasn't happening to you right now. I am sending you lots of love  xxxxx

[Ladichy]

I feel for you greatly. Just k,ow that as time goes on it will not be less painful, but you will learn to cope with it better. We had a family owned business. My husband was listes as the 2nd person to call in case of an emergency. I answered that call at 4:30 am telling us that there was a fire at one of our buildings and they needed a key holder present to enter the building. He arrives shortly before me and told them that the metal frame of the truck was my Dad's truck and they needed to look further. A short time later we were informed a body was found. I guess since I was the most composed, the fire Marshall askes me if my Dad was missing any body parts (fingers, toes, limbs, etc.). I told him that Dad was missing the index finger of his right hand (he used to squeeze our knee with it and get our funny bone) from a lawn mower accident as a child. I asked him if that was Dad in the building. He couldn't answer during an ongoing investigation. I simply said "you already did." We watches them wheel the body out in a bag. While we didn't see the effects on his body, the vision was very clear. My Mom couldn't comprehend what was going on and kept asking us to take her to other buildings he owned and to their barn to find him. It happened on a Wednesday. They finally confirmed his identity thru previous MRI scans late Friday afternoon. His memorial was scheduled for Saturday. I still rub the cold marble dome of his ashes when I am at my Mom's house. It reminds me of all the times I would rub his bald head when I came in to their house.

You have been shipwrecked and feel like you are drowning right now. We didnt have the luxury of grief, we had a business to run. So it took us much longer. I was a zombie, my only purpose was to make sure my Mom ate for over 18 months. When it hit, it hit hard. But the waves will change. I posted this in another comment but it bears repeating. Originally posted by a Reddit reader in response to a question about dealing with grief. I hope hit helps...

"Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks."