Nearly 6 years, when does it get easier?

[ceemcee]

I'm new to this so please forgive any formatting issues.  My father was, for all intents and purposes, the closest person to me.  We understood each other.  Sensitive, kind, generous souls.  I appreciate that I got that aspect of him.  I also appreciate that I got my mom's "hard side" so it balances out well.  My dad's passing away was relatively sudden to me, as he was across the country and didn't want to bother me while I prepared for exams.  In hindsight, this was his was of avoiding his daughter's wrath.  He told me everything was fine, just that standard radiation and chemo and he would be fine, after recovering from having one of his kidney's removed.  I still, vividly, remember the phone call from my uncle saying; "We (uncle and their cousin) debated telling you this against his wishes but we know you and if we kept up the lie, you would end all of us, bring him back alive, and then end him again.  I'm so so so sorry to be the one to tell you, your dad was given 2-3 months left to live, a month ago.  We couldn't keep lying to you".  Immediately, I called my dad in hospital with the wrath of an Irish woman scorned, I was so SO angry he would lie to me.  He knew what I was angry about and immediately started to cry.  Now, my father was the man who went after anyone and everyone with a baseball bat if that person/animal threatened his family (including my best friend he took in when we were 16 and stupid.  He cried, my heart broke.  I was on the next red-eye flight out to to him.  I've never seen my father so frail.  So incapable of taking care of himself.  I was fortunate enough to have one lucid conversation with him.  I apologized for being the broken little girl in front of him, not the strong one he had raised.  The daughter in front of him, was not the one he raised. This body betrayed me.  I didn't sleep for a week.  My intake was espresso and booze.  I actually brought him his favourite beer into the hospital for him.  The nurses knew full well to keep their distance at this moment.  I had my last beer with my dad.  That night we watched Detroit beat the Canadiens (his most beloved/and hated teams).  As a side note, my brother and I got him a Tiger jersey with his name on the back for christmas, he never got to wear it.  Once the hockey game was over, my uncle suggested I lay on the cot and try to get a bit of rest while he went and got himself some tea.   Not 15 minutes later, my uncle shook me awake and said "it's time..." and trailed off.  I sat at my dad's beside, listening to that horrific, gut wrenching, death rattle slow.  To my own chagrin, I threw myself on his bed, over his legs, sobbing hysterically, begging him not to leave me.  He couldn't leave me.  For years prior he had kept saying "what will you do when I'm gone, you need to learn on your own", I did not realize this life lesson was going to rip out an entire portion of my body.  The Catholics came in with their condolesences , which I ignored, still clinging to the lifeless body, waiting for a miracle that I myself did not believe in.  They covered his body to be taken away.  I went outside to smoke.  The most beautiful clear weather and sky you'd ever seen for a mid-December evening for the east coast.  My uncle came with him.  He never drank or smoked in his life, and certainly didn't approved of his favourite niece subcumming to such  vices.  I stared at the stars, with that hysterical laugh.cry that most are family with.  "Well, it's a beatuiful night to do laundry" I mumbled.  What you have to understand is that my uncle is the most eccentric, awkward, without being autitistic man I've  ever met.  He held me tight, as we watched the auroura borealis dance in the sky.  I plantively sobbed.  He was gone.  Gone.   Gone.  Never in my life has something been so, fucking, goddamn final.  He was gone.  And he took approximately 60% of my physical body with him.

 

It’s been nearly 6 years.  I have most of myself back.  I wonder the most if he would be proud of me, if he’s watching.  I was such a terrible let down of a daughter then, god, I hope he sees me now.   I hope he’s proud.  

 

My therapist keeps telling me I need to let go of the grief.  He’s not wrong, there are certain times of the year, and certain things that really bum me out.  My father never being able to walk me down the aisle and give his girl away?  Never see me convocate, see the career opportunities I’ve gotten.  I feel like screaming “Daddy, I promise I’ve gotten better!” 

 

If I let him go, as my amazing therapist suggests, what then?  I don’t have a grave to visit (we spread his ashes over the ball diamond he grew up playing on).  I talk to him (and my grandpa) for wisdom but, well, there isn’t much back, haha.

 

Even more  recently, one of my kittens went missing and I have done every damn thing I can to find him,  He’s a sweet boy, but he’s gone.  And now I have dreams about both of them and it leaves me waking up and sobbing.  I loved my father more than anyone, and my kitten is as close to a child as I will get.  I am gutted.  I am tired. Besides time, are there any recommendations?  I adore my therapist but he is hella expensive and I can’t afford it at the moment.  Thank for bearing with me.

[cindyjane]

Hugs ceemcee  ... I am so sorry for the loss of your dad.  You are so blessed to have had such a loving and good relationship with him.  He loved you so much in that he didn't want you to know and wanted to spare you knowing that he was going to leave soon.  He wanted to protect you to the end....talk about love.  

A part of what you shared really touched me ...   The most beautiful clear weather and sky you'd ever seen for a mid-December evening for the east coast. Things happen for a reason and you have that beautiful sky in your memory on such a difficult night.  That was a gift to you on such a difficult night.  I don't know what your faith is, or if you have faith at all but I want to share with you that the only thing that got me through losing both of my parents in an 11 month period was growing in my faith.  I was raised Catholic but didn't often go to church and didn't know God.  Actually my teachings of God was more to fear Him.  In losing my parents I looked everywhere for comfort and nothing helped so I decided to pick up the bible and read it for myself.  In doing that everything changed for me.  Firstly, I came to see that everything in that book is TRUE!  I also started to study history and science and both line up with what is written in the bible.  I came to see that God is all about love.  HE loves us more than we know.  I always wondered why HE let bad things happen if HE loved us so much.  In getting to know HIM (in reading the bible for myself) I know different.  The last thing HE wants is for us to hurt spiritually, emotionally, physically. HE never promises that bad things will happen BUT He does promise that HE will get us through every storm ... if we ask HIM.  I don't want to sound preachy here ceemcee ... just sharing about the one and only thing that got me through losing my mom and dad.  It's been 3 years since my losses and I still have feelings of sadness and shed tears in missing them BUT the sadness lifts every time I thank GOD for blessing me in having them both for parents.  When it is our turn to "go home" we will be reunited with our parents and that helps me to be the best person that I can be in this life today.  

Your dad taught you well and left you a special gift ... to be sensitive, kind and generous.  That is a blessing (gift) both your dad and you got from above.  All good things come from above.  

take care

Cindy Jane

[LoriAnn]

Ceemcee,

I just read this and related to much to what you wrote. I lost my dad on May 5, 2014. So it's been two and a half years. I think I was numb the entire first year. Then the grief hit HARD. Just when a lot of people around me were expecting me to be "getting back to normal," I started hurting really bad. I am older than you but I'm single and was pretty close to my dad. He was so smart and funny and a lot of people loved him. He had cancer of the esophagus and went through chemo to shrink the tumor. But the doctors wanted him to have surgery to remove it all. It was an 8 hour operation and I learned its one of the hardest operations to have. They said it went well and we were able to talk to him the next morning. But the recovery was supposed to be a long one and he was going to be in the hospital for weeks. Within two weeks he developed an infection. They put him back under to make a small repair and then left him in an induced come because it would be easier for him to heal. But he never got better and we had to take him off life-support. It was such a terrible dollar coaster of emotions. From relief that the surgery was over to anxiety about him getting worse to complete shock and devastation that he was dying. Four nights before he died, I was at home and had a terrible feeling I would never talk to him again, that he would never come out of the coma. At that point, the doctors were still telling my mother he would be alright. But they were wrong and my premonition was right. I have so much anxiety now when it comes to doctors and hospitals.

 

Anyway, I don't know when it gets "better" or if it ever will. I don't think you get "over" it. You just have to get through it the best you can. I talk to my friends some but I think they believe I need to be getting better by now. I'm pretty good at getting through work but I do have more anxiety and irritability than I had before.

It's just hard.