Mourning Our Dads: Sharing Our Grief's Journal
Friday, September 23, 2016
I don't know if there is anyone around anymore who will read this but I need to let this out. My Dad has been gone 8 years. He wasn't the greatest Dad. He had a lot of faults but I know he loved me. And he was my Dad. I was just flipping through the TV channels trying to find some background noise and stumbled onto the end of Stephen King's "Christine". It was one of the movies my Dad took me to as a kid. We went to the movies a lot before he left. He worked for himself and movie tickets were cheap back in the early 80s. I was 12 when we saw it. This was back before huge theaters with 15 screens. The theater we went to was one of our favorites. It was just a little tiny two screen movie house with each room only 8 seats wide. Four seats on each side of the aisle. I loved going to the movies with my Dad. I always felt so important being with him. I was such a Daddy's Girl at the time and still am in my heart.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
1:56PM - father(less) day.
love to you all on this difficult holiday weekend.
you are not alone.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Happy Birthday Daddy.
Friday, March 21, 2014
4:55AM - Dad
The last time I [really] spoke to my dad was on Father's day of 2013. He told me my youngest brother was in the hospital for heart-related issues. A few days later, after speaking to my brother, he said "I really think we'll be planning a funeral soon."
He meant dad. I thought for some stupid reason that my parents would outlive me, even though I know that's impossible. I couldn't even comprehend living without both of my parents on this earth. And hearing a brother insinuate that one of our parents was irreversibly sick, it made me angry and ultimately in denial of everything.
A few weeks later, I got a call that dad was in the hospital but it wasn't life threatening. The fact that I even saw the "life threatening" text go across my phone made me nervous and clammy. I was at work, a major hospital in the Detroit area, and had to keep my calm. As it turned out, my father was in the cardiac ICU, fighting for his life.
The next few weeks were spent as an uphill battle, constantly speaking with doctors and nurses, and going home at night to pray to whatever God exists that my dad would just be okay.
And then, the call came. My dad did not wake up. It was over.
As quickly as it started I feel like it finished. I never wanted to be without my dad and I swore to myself (in years past) that I'd not be able to ever go on living without both of my parents. Since losing my dad, I've somehow become stronger, yet more vulnerable to everyday things.
I miss him so much. I keep thinking I can call him. When I realize I can't, a lump forms in my throat and my eyes form tears.
I miss you, dad.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
I'm finding it really hard to let my in-laws know that the reason I just want to be alone for Christmas this year is because I'm sad that tomorrow is 25 years without Dad. They think that I need to be surrounded by family. They're right, I do, but my family are on the other side of the world. As much as I love my in-laws, they can't fill the empty ache I have this time of year. A quarter century of hurt - but the loss is just as raw as it was on Christmas night in 1988. :(
Friday, August 16, 2013
11:45AM - The perfect father
I had to say goodbye to my dad this morning it was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. Living without him in my everyday life is going to difficult because he loved and supported me in everything I ever did. He was so caring that he rather spend money on me then himself. To the point where he wouldn't heat anything more then his bedroom in the winter to make sure I had enough food or clothes. My dad was the most selfless person I knew growing up, and does growing up is the second hardest thing in life. The first for me is not having my dad A phone call away from me. I'm also losing my best friend because after my proudest moments or lowest moments there wasn't anyone that I wanted to share them with then him. I'll miss going he from school Anderson and him wrestling, watching our favorite series or most importantly talking to one another. I still don't know how to move on without him
Love you always dad
Friday, June 7, 2013
3:36PM - father(less) day.
I hate them. All of those commercials on TV for Father's Day urging people to "show Dad just how much he means to you." I wish there was a button to filter out those commercials, because not only do they remind me that I don't have a father anymore and also it makes me feel like I never had a chance to really show or express to my Dad how much he meant to me when he was here. I know that's just the grief talking, but if I hadn't spent the year he was dying in complete denial, there's so much I would have done, so much I would have said, and although I'm sure he never imagined I'd fall so far after he died (anyone who wants to claim that "complicated grief"/"prolonged grief disorder" is a myth really just needs to take a look at my life), I know it was my own fault, too, for spending the first two years in complete denial, in and out of hospitals and surviving some extremely lethal suicide attempts. So in a way, now that I'm not AS much of a complicated grief sufferer (or at least not as much as I was), this feels like the first Father's Day without him - even though he died in August 2010. I know that's going to feel like the first anniversary without him, too. Any tips on emotional preparation? I was thinking that if things get really bad in the week preceding it (e.g., I again begin wishing I could join him in death), I'd go to a hospital - but other than that, what can I do on both Father's Day and the anniversary? If you never had complicated grief, how did you deal with those first anniversaries without your dad?
Friday, March 15, 2013
4:03AM - water is everywhere...
Roll the clock back to the week of Dec 2nd to the 8th. I hate that time of year that is the week of one of my best friends birthday Dec 5, and also my Son Dec 7. I dread it like the plague..both are deceased. So their birthdays still hurt even after a few years for my loving friend Ralph, and my Son who has now been gone 20 years. Whoever said time heals all wounds obviously never buried a child. Now as if that week wasn't hard enough for me for the reasons I just stated...my Dad had been feeling sick. They had sent him for a chest xray looked like a pneumonia, but to be safe the next thing was a cat scan... then after the cat scan a PET scan.. he had his doctor appointment to follow up with the PET scan Dec 3-- I knew he had the appointment and I waited anxiously to hear from my mother all day. As I was driving home from the store with my two daughters my cell rang, it was Mom. Her words echoed in my head as she said with a wrenched voice "Dad has cancer again, I can't really talk right now I will talk to you later." My mind screamed ..."WHAT--Wait where at and whats the prognosis?" I was to find out later.. stage 4 lung, liver, lymph nodes, and spine. But that day all I knew was my Dad wasn't well and it didn't sound good if Mom couldn't even talk about it. I hung up and burst into tears screaming as I got out of the truck and I beat the hood repeatedly for a few mins with my fist. Life is so freaking unfair!!
Dad visited an oncologist.. and was optimistic even though I knew in my heart and mind stage 4 cancer in that many areas was not a good thing. He clung to the fact he had beat cancer once before, almost 20 years prior. That's right he cheated death and cancer the first time around, he told me and my sisters he was not giving up and he was going to do it again. Yet he had an urgency. My sisters and I all live in Ohio-- Mom and Dad live in Florida, they were scheduled to come visit us all.. my oldest sister had bought them round trip plane tickets on their 50th wedding anniversary which had just passed in Oct. Dad asked my sister to see if she could speed up the date he was to come, he really felt he needed to be here, she did and they arrived ahead of the normal visit time. They visited and Dad while looking a bit weary seemed to be optimistic and cheery most the time. He visited with everyone, grand kids, kids, whoever he could while he was here and made sure we took lots of pictures.He knew deep inside.. though he put on a good front for us, he held my mothers hand as often as possible something I was not used to seeing, and gave hugs and kisses to everyone. He went out with my sister and got a flu shot.He made sure we knew he loved us all. He told us all one evening as we were sitting around visiting.. that he had decided he didn't want to die in Florida he was born here and wanted to die here. He also let us know he didn't want to be cremated as he had said he did previously and that he wanted to be buried with military honors in the national cemetery here. Those were his wishes should something not go right.. but we weren't to be concerned he assured us all he wasn't giving up. He told me he needed us all to be strong for him so he could remain positive. What a crock of shit.. I know you meant it Daddy and I don't say that to you but to cancer! I hate you cancer!! Dad and Mom returned to Florida right before xmas and told us all they had things to tend to there and would be back here soon as possible. He went there and sold a lot of his precious processions cleaned out his 401K and deposited it where my mother could also get to it. The oncologist told him there wasn't much they could do with the advanced stage of his cancer.. that took the wind from his sails and I hate that damned doctor for doing that to him. at the end of January my parents returned here.. in that short period of absence my father had declined rapidly I was not prepared for the man who got off the airplane and met me at my sisters house. He could no longer walk, I got a wheelchair and we transported him into the house, he was so weak. Once inside he was exhausted from the traveling.. he wanted to lay on the couch and so we lifted him and made him comfortable as we could and he slept. I kissed him and he kissed me back his eyes said the words his lips couldn't seem to form. "Oh Daddy-- my mind was screaming--" I love you so much please don't go." For the first three or four days he was here he made attempts to eat but only when we pushed him to do so. I watched my Dad-- superman-chuck norris and every other super hero you can possibly think of rapidly weaken and wither before my very eyes. He began to complain of pain but refused to take more then a half of a vicodan a day or so because " he didn't want to get addicted to them" How crazy is that? Apparently insanity runs in the family. I know I'm insane guess he was too! The doctor had prescribed him ativan for his anxiety, he wouldn't hardly take that either, Mom would sneak them in with his other medications. He needed them! The four of us, My mother, my two sisters and myself tended to him lovingly as well as his grand kids when they were there. The oncologist in Florida said he had about 6 mos to a year.. f**king liar. He arrived in Ohio on a Saturday and by the following Thursday I knew his days , minutes and hours were numbered. ( The disadvantages of having worked in the healthcare field..I know what it looks like when someone is dying) That Thursday night Daddy was hurting so bad he would lay down then grab my arm and struggle to sit up.. Id sit him up and he would struggle to breath.. his back he said hurt badly. (Dad had a mechanical voice box from his first bout with cancer which was in the larynx he had a permanent tracheotomy.) He felt as if there was something inside his trach.. but in reality we had found out when they took him in the second time in a month (while still in Florida) to drain the fluids off his lungs from the cancer that his left lung was collapsed. The fluid couldn't be drained because it was to thick. A huge set back for him. As the fluid continued to build in his chest it put pressure on his stomach which made it really hard for him to eat without being in pain. My sister would take hemostats and remove dried up chunks of blood and mucous from his trach. We finally got a suction machine, but again we would only be able to suck out so much. It was mostly blood. We all took turns trying to coax him into drinking a ensure drink, water, food or broth. his intake was very little. That Thursday night we all agreed we needed to get him some more pain relief. He was miserable and it was killing us all to watch him suffer with the pain. That night before I left he was laying on the couch as he had been. The futon had been placed against it in order that my Mom could lay beside him at night and make sure he didn't try to get up and fall. Mom and my sisters were doing various things so I laid on the futon and held my Daddy's hands. He lay there staring at me saying nothing his beautiful blue eyes looked glassy and mirrored my own. We lay there just staring at each other quietly.. My heart was screaming out in pain but I tried to hide it from him. I tried so hard to convey my thoughts and feelings without speaking least that moment.. that spell be broken. I wonder now what he was thinking as we lay there that night? My girls were beginning to whine and had school the next morning so I finally told him I needed to get them home and in bed he acknowledged and mouthed weakly he loved me. I wish I had talked more, I wish I had told him all those things I am now holding inside. The next day I got there hospice was there. They had been called to the house to help with pain management and put him on their crisis list and immediately sprung into action. They brought a hospital bed and a shit load of supplies. Morophine, ativan and anything else they thought might make him more comfortable. He sat up on the couch with my help and was concerned to see a hospital bed in the room, wanted to know where the hell he was. We explained he was still in my sisters house and that the bed was for him so he could rest better then being on that darned couch. We asked him if he wanted to lay in it he agreed, we walked him to the bed and laid him in it. He was so restless that night and he mouthed to me that his trach needed cleaned I told the nurse who was busy trying to get all his orders from the doctor. she said she would do it in a few mins.. he banged his hand on the bar and mouthed NOW, HURRY! I checked his oxygen saturation and it was not good it had dropped into the 60s I told his nurse. At this point he was agitated and confused from lack of oxygen to his brain. He looked me square in the eye and said with his lips. "WHO ARE YOU?" I burst into tears and my mother jumped up and asked what was wrong I told her what he said and she said "Honey that's Robin you know who she is, Do you know who I am babe?" He didn't say anything. But he seemed calm.. I was hurt but understood why he asked. They cranked up his oxygen to a full 5 liters. That seemed to help raise his level to a safe limit. They gave him good doses of morophine and of ativan but that night he was restless. They put a cath in him to collect urine, he was very upset by that and kept trying to rip it out, he also kept pulling off his oxygen. Finally they removed the cath before he could hurt himself. I kept asking as we all did what he needed and if something was hurting but he would just flail around his bed and mouth things I was unsure of most the time. The night nurse told me not to be upset that he didn't even really know what he himself wanted at that point, but it was hard not to be. I went home late that night and returned the next morning. Dad was resting finally they had managed to get his pain under control and keep it that way by medicating him before it got its grip on him again. I hated knowing he was medicated so heavily yet it was better then watching him be in so much pain. This was the 2nd of Feb and I decided to stay that night there was no school the next day and I just felt I needed to be there. Always listen to that tiny voice in your head, it knows more then you might think it does. I was so scared Dad was going to pass that day as he didn't look good at all. Although I wasn't ready to give up on him I could not stand the thought of him suffering either the 2nd was my nieces birthday though and I just kept thinking how horrible it would be for her if he passed on her day. That night as he slept we all camped around him, I was on his right Mom on his left in a recliner holding his hand and dozing on and off My sisters were on a foot and a head. We had him surrounded. I slept late that night with my head on the hospital bed beside him holding his hand. Sometime early morning I moved to the couch for a couple hours which was beside the bed and slept for a while. That day my fathers 3 half sisters came to see him, they all sat quietly as we had Dad surrounded just like the night before. I was as I had been holding his hand with my right hand and had my left hand propped up on top of his wrist, secretly I was keeping watch over his pulse rates and reassuring myself he was ok. I panicked when I realized I could no longer feel his pulse yet I knew he was still alive as I watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, I checked his feet and saw the telltale signs of impending death he was beginning to mottle and I couldn't find pulses on either wrist or feet. I walked quietly to the dining area where the nurse sat taking notes. I squatted beside her and whispered my observations. I asked that she look and make sure it was not just me being paranoid. She couldn't find his pulse either. So she used her stethoscope and listened to his heart, it was racing at 115 beats she told me. I walked over and squatted beside my Mom I told her that Daddy's body was beginning to shut down, explained the significance of the loss of pulse in the extremities and the mottling. My sister was busy on the phone so I went and told her too, I then crossed the room where my three aunts sat and told them he was dying I gave them the chance to be at my side of his bed for a few moments, and they did. I sat beside him and watched his breathing.. in and out.. and knew it wouldn't be long now.The nurse checked his heart rate again it was racing at 150 beats. she gave him more morophine and ativan.I asked the nurse to reassure my mother that Daddy was not in pain, she bent and quietly talked to Mom, and then Mom stood and talked quietly in Dads ears I could only hear half of what she said.. but she told him she loved him how we all had loved him and that we were all there beside him and as she said our names she placed our hands on his head and I think she told him it was okay to go then. The heart can only race like that for so long before it just stops and that's how it happened. His breathing slowed and he then took a few more breaths and just stopped, he coughed once and then nothing. She checked his heart, and then removed his oxygen.
My Dads last coherent moment was on the day before his death, he opened his eyes looked into my mothers eyes puckered his lips kissed the woman he had been married to for 50 years and closed his eyes again. Daddy Died Feb 3 at 418 pm. My heart is broken.,, as if it wasnt bad enough I lost my Dad that day, the 7th of Feb is my ex husbands death anniversary and the 10th of Feb is my sons. Three men in my life.. all died within that week but different years. I felt as if I had been hit by a train and I still do. I can not make it through a day without tears. I feel lost confused and drowning in sorrow.. sorta like my kitchen at the moment.
I need to wake my children for school.. another sleepless night for me..
Write more later.
Friday, November 30, 2012
7:54PM - it comes and goes
Today I experienced a grief attack. It felt little like panic attack. I didn't even know that's what it was called, but after crying out loud for what seemed like an hour, I typed in 'i miss my dad' into google search box and saw that there were others dealing with same issues as me. Through this I found the term grief attack, thanks to one of the posts in this very group by _roqille. reading the list of 'freedoms in healing' helped me cry the rest of the pain out and calmed me down. It still takes time, for the debilitating pain to pass.
My dad died when I was 16.
We lived in asia. When I was 12, my mom and little sister age 4 and I moved temporarily to america. We alternated travelling to and from, so that this family of four were able to see each other every few months.
when i was 13, he was diagnosed with cancer, in-operable, and was given 6 month to live. I remember marking my calendar with the eminent day of his death.
he didn't die on that marked day, and i distinctly remember feeling confused with happiness that he was still with us, and with stress that he could die any minute from that moment on.
Time waits for no one, and life continued with regularity. Often, I was able to put the thoughts of illness and eminent death 'on the shelf' and live a relatively calm life and focus on school and friends and everyday living. But there was a kind of a ticking time bomb feeling that we didn't talk about. and when new information about the condition of his illness surfaced, we accepted the facts and put the brave faces back on for each other.
When i was 15 and was in middle of freshman year in high school, and my mother and sister returned to asia. I was given an opportunity to stay in America, and so I chose this. America was my new land, English was my new tongue. I lived with a temporary host family, who was my dear 'English as a Second Language' teacher. Life was spinning too fast for me to get a grip, I was probably already severely depressed.
For my Sophomore year at age 16, I moved in with a more permanent host family, an old friends of my parents with two pre-teen children. To accomodate me for the long term stay and welcoming me into the family, they sold their old house and purchased a larger one. It was an eventful time for us all. Life has funny way of marking time. The day we moved in to the new house, that evening, we received a call that my father had passed. Automatically and mechanically, I accepted the news, and put on another brave face. At this moment of automation, I remember facing a new sense of life without my dad, something cracked within me, kind of like those ice-packs which you pop a button and crystals start to form and spread the cold. As I was observing this phenomenon within me, my host-father reached out to me to embrace me, the daughter of one of his best friend, and he sobbed on my shoulders. This shocked me, and propelled me into numbness like i had been knocked off balance and was never the same. It was October 13th 1990 in America. I was 16 and my dad was 47.
Days and weeks after, I grew angry at anyone who said they were sorry. I detested hearing that. and immediately tossed me into bad mood. There was nothing anyone could do, and i wanted people to at least not bring up the subject of my father's death, or what a tough time i must be going through. I was angry dipped in denial and chose to stay numb which felt the safest option. Especially as I am a guest in this host family, and a guest in this host country.
Like rubbing salt on a raw wound, it didn't help me at the time that my mother chose to remarry in a year after my father's death. Logically it all made sense, my step-father had just lost his wife to illness and they chose to combine the family together. la-di-dah, but once again for me life was happening too fast.
Today, more than 22 years has passed, and I still experience grief attacks.
it comes and goes.
I experienced numbness and disengagement and anger for 3 years before the pressure of emotional energy was too accumulative to keep it under brave face. Finally during college I sought for counseling. Alas, the counselor moved away and i didn't replace her.
I am compelled to share with you what helped me today, entry link below.
The most meaningful to me today are:
'i give myselfpermission to realize that my grief if unique.'
'i have the freedom to talk about my grief.'
'i have the freedom to experience "grief attacks" or memory embraces.'
'i have the freedom to treasure my memories.'
'i am free to move towards my grief at my own pace and begin to heal.'
Thursday, June 14, 2012
11:54PM - father(less) day.
this is my second.
it hasn't gotten easier.
I still have "post-traumatic grief."
Every day is still the day after.
Friday, March 23, 2012
10:47AM - it never stops hurting...
My dad, papa passed away when i was 9. It was a Sunday morning, when my mom was trying to waking him... I was awoken by my mom's cries, got up only to see that my dad was no longer moving. I only recall bits and pieces of what happened after that. My relatives coming, ambulance, n the funeral. I always thought of it as a bad dream that when i wake up everything will be back to normal.
It's been 13 years, i can't stop thinking abt him. Happy moments or events always sadden me;whenever i passed an exam, my 18th bday, my first trip, joining uni...I only wish he was here. Even when i did wrong, i miss having somebody who would talk to me like a father would. I have a nice family that I love them dearly.With all their love and with time, I always believed that someday I'm gonna be stronger, I'll be able to open up n talk about my dad. It hurts soo much... I've never talked about it even to my friends. I have no idea how to or i am scared of their reaction or i think they would never understand what ive been trhough but i really hope that someday I would.
There are so many questions in my head. How would my life be if he was here? I try soo hard to recall the time i've spent with him while he was here. I started crying today as i could not recall them all. I know its hard, how am i supposed to recall what everything was like when i was 5 or 6 yrs old. But im sure those were the happy days.
I feel really lonely.. this feeling has been grwing for years.... It's my dark hidden side. the ironic thing is i am the happy-always smiling person, who is there for friends n family. People come to me when they wanna talk... but they dont know that i'm such a mess. I'm trying to figure so many things...
I miss you dad. Wherever u are, i know you are watching us and I'll always love you... Its depressing when i realised that i have spent more years nt having u in my life...i dont ever want to forget those memories. I dont recall the sound of your voice, your touch but U'll always be in my heart.
Friday, March 16, 2012
The things my father said would make me a better man
Hard work and the love of friends, a woman that understands.
I hope my father knows the seeds we've sown still grow
At night I go to sleep and pray he is watching over me.
Somewhere there's a star that's shining
so bright that I can see you smile.
And all that I need is one last chance
just to hear you say goodbye.
Sometimes I remember when you taught me to tie my shoes
One thing I will never forget is the day that I lost you.
I hope you always know the car that we built will always roll.
Somewhere there's a star that's shining
so bright that I can see you smile.
And all that I need is one last chance
just to hear you say goodbye.
And if you have a dream you better hang on for dear life!
And when that cold wind blows just let it pass you by.
Yeah, things my father said. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Somewhere there's a star that's shining
so bright that I can see you smile.
And all that I need is one last chance
just to hear... you say... goodbye, goodbye.
Just to hear you say goodbye.
I watched as my Dad took his last breath on 26th September 2011. He had battled cancer right til the end, a strong, proud and brave man that never complained. He was 61. The images from the last 4 days of his life will haunt me forever. His pain and suffering has gone now but mine remains. I dont know if I will ever feel normal again.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
3:26PM - Holidays
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Eat my shit
I feel better
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Last week marked the 17th anniversary of my father's death...( Read more...Collapse )
Monday, September 19, 2011
When my dad died, I read somewhere that it would take roughly two years until it got better. At least for me, it was mostly true. It's been a bit over two years now and it doesn't hurt just as much anymore. Mostly, I got used to it, though there are times when I think 'gotta tell him this' or 'gotta show him that, he'd like it'. I always used to pick up little trinkets for him wherever it traveled too, and I still catch myself scanning for things he would like. What's still really hard though are the milestones he's missing. I recently got my degree, which was not always certain I would manage because I was one of those teens that had to f*** up everything they can. I would have loved for him to see that I finally got my life back on track, because he was the only one who never doubted I would.
I wonder if in another two years, the regrets will stop hurting so much, too.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
my father was murdered in a racist hate crime, what i hate is how much support the murderers get in society, i get spit on, my tires slashed my windows broken for speaking out
i wish my father had a gun, i wish he would have listened to me when i brought him the satanic bible, i wish my father would have rejected christ and all the nonsense that made him a victim
i am waiting for this murderer to die, i want someone to stab him to death i want him to choke i want a cockroach to crawl in his ear and choke a hole into his brain that it can rot and he can choke on pus
my family is now in abject poverty, i am homeless now...
thank you racist cult, you will get your karma
and whoever hacked my email account, i hope you get bit by a spider
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I have crept back in The Hole. The Hole is this depressed state of mind I get into when I start to think about how many years I have left. How morbid is that? I start thinking about people I love and care about and how it would feel to lose them. This all started when I had cancer and lost my dad the same year. I wish I could control it but lately the only thing that seems to be on my mind is Death and what can be more depressing than that.
My dad dies 6 years ago and I lost my ability to have kids 2 months later so there's the anniversary of that. On the bright side, it's 6 years of being cancer-free.
Does anyone else get these morbid thoughts?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
6:58PM - What a mess....
So I'm getting sick of this crap surrounding my dad's death (Fire that he didn't set, but ended up dying in). I don't why someone would do this to him. Its such a mess. August 21st I was thrust into a world of cops, and funeral homes, and wills, and death taxes, and fucking demolition companies to tear down his house because it's a complete loss, crap that I didnt know existed. Sorry this is kind of rambling (I dont know how to make an LJ cut).
I've been having to talk with detectives, and they're such frickin douchebags. They never call, so what am I supposed to believe? Then they finally call, and say lets have a meeting on Wednesday (the 29th). So I get the detectives to come to the college I go to so i'd have some support (my counsellor came with, thank god. Because my mom has turned into the least encouraging person..my mom and dad were divorced for 21 years, and when he died, she kind of took over. She would pretend to be when trying to find out if he had any pension etc, which I did NOT give her permission to do. But I thought she'd be there for me, but I ended up getting kicked out of my house essentially)
So the detectives come, and are talking telling me the same shit i've known ALL ALONG ("he died of smoke inhalation"-thanks asshole, I didnt know that-NOT). They told me that they were still after the guy they've been after since AUGUST, but he has since relocated to a different province (But apparently that doesn't scream guilt). So for the last few months since I last talked to the detectives I just kind of figured that they weren't going to do anything...which I kind of came to terms with. So when they said the only way they would be able to charge him is if they find a key witness, or got him to admit it, I asked them "what happens if you cant get this, will you rule it a suicide, or accidental?" He says "It wasn't a suicide, or accidental". So basically he told me my dad was murdered. What a freakin mess. Then they say, that we'll meet again in the months, which brings us to the end of September. It makes me wonder what the heck they are doing.
I just needed to ramble, when when I write it down it kind of makes it more real. Is it possible to live the last 10 months in shock. We didnt have the greatest relationship. I'm super sad, but I rarely cry. I can talk about it like its someone else's life. Have any of you found that. So thats why I think i've potentially been in shock for this long. And also 8 days after this happened I started my first year of nursing college.
I would never wish for him to have been sick, but if I'm being selfish I wish he would have had a heart attack or something..anything but this. Not saying goodbye suckss.
Blah. Hope everyone got through fathers' day ok:)
Saturday, May 14, 2011
8:40AM - Freedoms in Healing
I just wanted to share this list I received from a coping centre I've been going to for the past 8 weeks. I lost my Dad in the summer of 2008 to an accidental overdose, and was still feeling the need to resolve some of the feelings I was having. I was able to meet with other people my age who had lost someone tragically... and it was nice to sit down face to face with others and talk openly about our grief. Anyways, I hope this is helpful to some of you, there are certainly good points in this list that I take to heart when trying to cope with my loss.
Freedoms in Healing
- I give myself permission to realize that my grief is unique.
- I have the freedom to talk about my grief.
- I have the freedom to expect to feel a multitude of emotions.
- I have the freedom to allow for numbness.
- I give myself permission to "take a break" or "put my grief on the shelf."
- I have the freedom to experience "grief attacks" or memory embraces.
- I give myself permission to continue to develop a support system.
- I have the freedom to make use of ritual and create traditions.
- I have the freedom to embrace and explore my spirituality.
- I have the freedom to make meaning out of the life of the person, not the death.
- I have the freedom to treasure my memories.
- I am free to move towards my grief at my own pace and begin to heal.
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