Jump to content
Forum Conduct & Guidelines Document ×

It's been well over a year, but I'm still mad


scy

Recommended Posts

  • Members

My father passed away late July of 2012, six days after being diagnosed with liver cancer. I was 21.

The day before his death, I found him in his bed, delirious and non-responsive, so I called an ambulance. During his stay in the hospital, however, help was not forthcoming, and he only became more and more delirious; it got so bad that, at one point, he was on the bed in the fetal position, his eyes wide open and mechanically scanning from one side of the room to the other, seeing nothing while gibbering complete nonsense: where there was once a repertoire of witty humor (the kind that was often inappropriate but always hilarious) there were only screams of pain and shouts of directionless anger; where there was once twinkling eyes and affectionate winks, there was only the absence of recognition--whenever he occasionally set his eyes upon me, he would stare for a few moments and then cry out either in rage or horror: who or what did he see when he looked at me?

I watched helplessly while my father's condition deteriorated until his convulsions slowed and finally, inevitably stopped the following day; the first feeling I had was not sorrow but relief--it pains me to say--that he was finally released from that nightmarish state. I remember being struck with surprise (though not anger) at how little an effect my father's death had on the scene: there was a brief "I'm sorry for your loss" styled interaction with the doctor on call (truly an unenviable role), and that was it; no family there to watch his passing (myself excluded); no teary-eyed goodbyes to be had between father and son. After 61 years of a rough life, he just died, and no one had any say in the matter. Though the funeral followed my father's death promptly, the thing in the casket looked less like my father and more like a poor quality wax model bearing his vague likeness: uncanny valley. I think looking at the corpse in the casket was what finally told me that my dad was never coming back; after the funeral, I found an unoccupied room and wept for the first time in years.

The experience changed me. I had been an average student working towards an English major with a 3.0 the semester before he died; now I'm finishing up the last half of my MS in Biomedical Engineering with a 4.0 (in a field where graduate work is actually difficult). Before, I was happy just lazing about, reading books, playing games, hanging with friends and flirting with the fairer sex. I haven't been able to enjoy any of those things since he's been gone; even the book I had been working on so fervently--my baby--has remained untouched for the last year. In its place stands the cold, unfeeling sentinel that is Scientific Endeavor (which has its charm; how many people get to build a prosthetic leg that you can control with your mind? Beats me, but I'm one of 'em!); I've replaced my sense of fun with an unforgiving work ethic and my imagination with logical analysis. However, the most disturbing thing is where I was often described as being very cheerful and mellow (a description that I feel was accurate), now I have difficulties controlling my anger and can no longer recall the last time I was happy (and self-aware); in the last year, I've managed to alienate several of my friends, worry my remaining family, and even get myself into not one but two fist-fights (though my abused face has since been able to convince me that perhaps my career as an impromptu prize fighter is not as promising as I once believed). What is this? The loss of innocence? Depression? Chronic indigestion? Incredibly tiresome and a bit of a pain in the ass? (Yes.) Regardless, it's been a year and a half, and I still want to punch in the nearest undeserving wall of sufficient softness (something between feather pillow and cardboard would be preferable).

I am angry, I'm mad, I'm boring, and I'm sick of it.

I'm starting to think that 'healing' is less about recovering from a devastating emotional blow, and more about learning how to live with the wounds and make the best of it. Still, is it normal to be so angry about the loss of a loved one? It's starting to scare me how much less like myself I've become. Thanks for reading/enduring.

----------

Thank you for the responses; it means a lot to me.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Members

Scy,

I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your father. Even though it's been over a year it sounds to me like it's still extremely raw and hard to deal with. It’s so common to alienate yourself or to try and push people away, it might not be what you want to hear, but these people are there for you, I’m sure they all love you very much and just want to see you happy again. I recently found an article that talks about exactly what you're dealing with. I think it would greatly benefit you to give it a read I hope things get better for you.

http://www.bobbittchapel.com/grief-and-healing/

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Members

I am angry, I'm mad, I'm boring, and I'm sick of it.

I'm starting to think that 'healing' is less about recovering from a devastating emotional blow, and more about learning how to live with the wounds and make the best of it. Still, is it normal to be so angry about the loss of a loved one? It's starting to scare me how much less like myself I've become. Thanks for reading/enduring.

scy, I think you are right about this. I lost my mother almost exactly two weeks ago, to the hour. Extremely unexpectedly and suddenly, to a heart attack, after no diagnosed health problems whatsoever. The constant re-realization that she is actually not going to be here with her wit and gorgeous laugh and welcoming ear and all the rest of her fantastic generous personality is just unfathomable. I had known this would someday be hard because I basically bounced everything I was doing for my whole life off of her and actually really cared what she thought. While I finally have felt like I have somewhat been growing into more of my own person and my children are growing up, I am suddenly wondering now what the point of anything I evolve into is, if I can't share it with her. Everything I was proud of about my children or husband, she was the most important person to me to run this by. It's as if the support that held all of us together has just dropped out the bottom and we all have, somehow, less worth? But that is a dangerous thought, because, as I have to remind myself, we are each one of us worth just as much as each other.

I do completely understand what you mean about feeling angry. And I can also agree that other people just don't live up to what you might expect them to and I find the people I thought were friends actually seem to have backed off, as if I have some disease. It's very odd. And I've been trying to figure out how not to be angry, very angry, at them. I almost feel like writing off all but a couple people I know who I thought were regular friends, who haven't bothered to reach out or are too timid to be around my wounds in either texts or a phone calls, when all I would love to know is that they consider me worth calling at all. But this would leave me with another loss!

The times that my mind has slipped to a cheerful place seem to be only a result of some relief-mechanism that's been given me. I have also decided that it's only by trying to change my mother's identity to a "deceased" parent, that allows me to move on and become pleasant for a few hours. But once the reality sets in again that this loved woman did not want to die right now and should not even have this identity, I become outraged all over again. At any rate, I am just responding to your post and want to express my deepest sympathies to you about your dad and also let you know that I hear your anger. One of the few people who wanted to talk about this, who had lost her mother five years ago, told me that she does find herself to be much more short tempered and less patient with people than she used to, since then. She believes it did change her. But she also said that the pain she experienced has shaped her into a stronger adult and obviously a more empathetic one. Hence her call to me. I am sure this is happening for you, as well.

I have also recently found some accounts of near death experiences that remind me of the presence and ability of those we love who have passed to still see us and support us in ways we can't predict, if we are open to the concept. And then, really, since I think that grief is basically a room we each are alone in, you may be reminded that the person you cared most about, who seems to be gone, is actually in this room with you, accepting and loving you for the long haul.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Members

wow.........thanks for your post......I lost my stepdad over 2 years ago and it's like the wound is still being cut.......your description of your dear dad's last hours was almost surreal.....though I know it was very very real to you........I unexpectedly was the one who was holding my stepdad's head and feeling pulse while my Mom looked on........he was old and ill, so the actual passing was not a shock.....but I NEVER EXPECTED TO HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO "CHAPERONE" IT..............after the Hospice Nurse confirmed he was gone I went into immediate guilt mode - "You asshole....why didn't you DO something??!! You just stood there!! You were appointed this task somehow and you screwed it up.........".................it's not the actual passing part that was hard (he seemed to be in peace).......but it was the fact that he was not coming back.....ever.........

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

This site uses cookies We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue. and uses these terms of services Terms of Use.