My dad died earlier this year and I can’t add much to what’s already been said, except to offer a corollary to the notion that there is no one right way to grieve. It also doesn’t matter in the slightest what anyone else thinks of your grieving process. You’re under no obligation to meet anyone’s expectation of how you “should” or “shouldn’t” respond to this death.
I have sat here for twenty minutes trying to think of what to reply. It’s all I can do to not break down like a baby after reading all of the replies. I will right the letter.
Thank you.
When you are with him, be in the moment. Try very hard to avoid the distraction of the small details around you. Just be present in the moment with him. It will help him, and it will help you when the end comes. The temptation is to focus on the things we can control, the pillows, the beverages, being chatty with those around you, it’s a very natural way to react. But one you’ll surely regret.
Don’t be afraid to touch him, hold his hand, kiss his face, climb right up into the bed and give him a big old for true hug. Pull the chair up so you can sit right where he can see you.
Say what you need to say, don’t assume you’ll get another day, you might not. Just say it, no one expects eloquence and beauty but he will deeply appreciate your honesty. Don’t be afraid to tell him he’s doing good, he is - at dying, and will still appreciate hearing it.
Tell him how each person in the family is going to miss him if you wish, but it’s much more important to tell him, each one individually, that they will be alright. Tell him, as he nears the end, it’s okay for him to stop fighting and go.
It’s not easy, it’s often not comfortable, but it’s richly rewarding if you stay in the moment and speak only truth. Don’t stop talking to him just because he might not be able to understand you anymore, assume he can. Don’t assume he’s suffering if he lingers a while, tell yourself he’s awaiting the right moment and only he will know when it’s the right time.
When interacting with your other suffering relatives remember, you don’t have to say anything. Just hold their hands, give them a hug, stand real close. It’s enough.
This is not an easy journey, I know. But it’s a part of life, try not to look away, look it square in the eye instead. You will be left with less fear and more understanding of the nature of mortality, if you do.
And remember, we’re right here if you need to talk. Some of us have been down this road, and we all have big ears and aren’t afraid to use them!
You will both be in my thoughts and prayers in the coming weeks, I wish you peace, my friend.
I went through having my grandma and her sister die just before Christmas (totally different reasons), and my dad 4 months later at Easter - all unexpected. Those seemed like the easiest ones to deal with, the unexpected ones, but still left me with a lot of, ‘wish I had…’
My grandfather died a few months before my wedding. My dad had already passed away, and things were kind of tense between my mom and his side of the family, but when pap was sick and in the hospital and it wasn’t looking good my brother sister and I decided to go see him in the hospital. (I tried to put aside all the family drama, and be the better person.)
So we head up to go see him and try to be just be in the moment, joke around, tell stories etc - lotsa sarcasm, cause that’s how we are 
He was dying of throat cancer, he looked so sick, it was kinda like the pap I knew, but it didn’t seem like him on the outside, but I could still see that spunk he had left. He’d ask about the wedding, where he’d sit, how school was going for all of us, what we had for dinner. He kept saying he’s gonna kick this thing and he’ll be home and we’ll have a big party, and in between sentences he’d cough, a lot…it was really uncomfortable for me being 21 and then my younger siblings. He’d cough and drink, cough and drink…it seemed like forever, maybe 30-40mins we were there. Then, he passed away that evening.
Found out later out of all the grandkids (25 of us), we were the only 3 to go visit him in the couple of weeks he was there, and not even his own kids visited him much. He may have had his faults, and was by no means perfect, but he was my grandpa and we had some good times while he was still around.
Let it all out…we’re here
I feel like there is an empty, hopeless black pit inside of me.
A few years ago I had a pretty bad bout of depression in which I attempted suicide and ended up in a psychiatric hospital for two months. I have to make sure that I don’t allow this to set me back.
Do I walk around feeling sad all the time or do I keep on living my life? I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I did allow myself to cry last night, but it was so hard to stop.
I started the letter but it was more like I vomited onto the paper. Lots of anger and swearing. It was more like I wrote it for myself, I’ll likely not send it. I guess some stuff just had to come out.
Get a nice, dark suit. It’ll come in handy for job interviews, too.
What?
FloatyGimpy, amen to what everyone else has said.
Might I add another suggestion? If you have the time, please consider (temporarily) becoming a family historian. If my math is correct, your grandpa was born in 1943. Wow. Think about the history your relative lived through. Could you possibly find the time to sit down with him and tape his recollections? (Audio &/or visual taping) The man must have a veritable wealth of stories to tell, and, believe me, he’ll enjoy telling them. You’ll learn things about your past/your family history you had no idea happened.
Two ideas about what to do with the tapes: (1) some people might enjoy seeing/hearing them at a memorial service. (2) His children/grandchildren might love transcripts of them. They’re history, after all.
We did this for my Grandmother.
Love, Phil
Re the tapes, two things come to mind
You don’t have to feel sad all the time - it is OK to feel happy or just normal at times. You shouldn’t feel guilty, and you don’t have to make his impending death the absolute focus of your life.
Have another go at the letter, and start with your favourite memories of your grandpa - describe your earlier memory of him, then work your way chronologically. The focus of the letter is stuff for your grandpa, not for you.
Try and get a copy of “On Death and Dying” by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
Hi, my name is Shirley and I know Death.
As someone who has buried my father (9), three brothers (26, 32 and 36, my ages respectively.) one left and he ain’t looking so good., 1 set of grandparents (15 and 21) ( the other set died before I was born.) and all of my uncles (30’s), I have to tell you that Funerals are of two minds: They are for the living to give the grieving a sense of closure and to make you feel pretty shitty about things: After the funeral, you walk out of the church and life goes on. It is very surreal. and then you go to a fellowship at the church or someone’s house to eat 5 different kinds of pasta meals and chum about with relations that you haven’t seen in years and after about 20 minutes you are reminded exactly why you haven’t seen them in years. Funerals bring out the nuts in the family tree.
Remember this. The entire funeral rigamarole is about 1-2 hours. Probably about 1 hour of actual service and another 40 minutes per and post funeral prayers and Very Serious Time. (This would be the Catholic method, which is all I know.)
The music is depressing. The readings are depressing. It fits with the entire event.
What is worse is the graveside service when the body is laid to rest. I haven’t done that since my Grandma died ( 1983) and that is because I was nearly stung by some bee’s and backed off from eveyrthing to avoid the swarm, tripped over a grave only to realize it was my Dad’s grave. When my mom dies, I know I won’t be morally allowed to blow this off, but it won’t be from the lack of emotionally trying.
Otto said:
Very well put.
There are stages of Grief . You have to work through them all before you move on.
You don’t have to be strong. You just have to be there.
I wish I knew my grandpa until I was in my 30’s. You are extremely fortunate.
Peace.
Thank you for a really great reply and useful information regarding the funeral.
You’re right, Thank you.
Today I went out for a while. I had some sushi and bought a really great purse. I’m actually feeling a bit better.
The letter is a good idea. I wrote my dad a letter, and it went over beautifully. Thing is, make it about the person’s life, not their death or dying, or about your feelings on the matter.
Make it about the things that need to be said, that haven’t been said yet. Make it about him and you. Start by writing out everything that you want to say to him that you haven’t said yet (or haven’t said in awhile). Again, the letter needn’t, and arguably shouldn’t be about the death/dying.
Remember that the letter is for both of you, and isn’t about catharsis or therapy. It should be about what needs to be said, the things that would have been said anyway.
If it goes too well, he’ll want others to read it. This happened in my case, and I had to revise my letter several times. But the last version made for a nice eulogy.
When my great-grandmother died earlier this year - a woman I was extremely close to until she developed Alzheimer’s, this is what I did to help myself. I took it through a couple of revisions as my thoughts flowed onto the pages and even ended up reading a more personal version at her funeral.
It sucked because I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. She was ill for many, many years and the last time she recognized me was probably in 2002. You have time to actually spend with your loved one that is dying and cognizant - and knows that he is dying. It’s hard but it’s a great opportunity so many people don’t have. Part of me hated that a lot of people said I had such a wonderful opportunity that I even had a great-grandmother and I should rejoice in that instead of being sorry that she was gone. I knew that it was great that I got to have her for so long - that’s why her passing was so difficult. I did BOTH and continue to do so. She was the best person in my life and I owe so much of who I am to her and her husband.
Know that everything you are feeling is normal and natural. Every emotion, every fear. Take each day as it comes until the end but cherish these moments. Do spend time with him, it will be one of the most precious memories you have going forward if you are able to just talk to him and be with him in some sort of a “normal” capacity.
Check out your library or local book store for books about Death and Grieving.
Badger’s Parting Gift
Tear Soup Wonderful. Written by a hospice nurse with 20 or 30 years experience. ( artwork is pfffht, but the message is wonderful.)
I have all of these in my own personal library. They are all kid books. Lets face it, When you are hurting, you are stripped down to the rawest state of yourself. My comprehension in wordy adult books on the subject is piffle at the best of times, when things are shit, I want basics. YMMV.
You might have a look at: Deathing: An Intelligent Alternative for the Final Moments of Life
pssst, I think you broke Amazon.
My grandad - who was the closest thing I had to a father - died of cancer a year ago last April. My advice would be to tell him how much he means to you and how much you love him. Repeatedly, until he gets sick of hearing it!
Of course, you may have already done this, but me and my grandad didn’t have that sort of relationship - it was always known, never spoken. But the one thing I’m glad of, and the one thing that helps with the pain of having lost him, was knowing that I said goodbye and let him know how much he meant to me, and how grateful I was for the role he’d played in my life.
And I shouldn’t have posted without reading all the replies, because I definitely recommend writing a letter. I went to see my grandad in person to say goodbye - the last time I saw him, he’d managed to get up and eat a little bit of a “proper” Sunday roast dinner my mum and I had cooked, and afterwards he sat in the armchair which was almost part of him, and I took his hand and said “You know that I love you and you’ve been more like a father to me than a grandfather, right?” and he gave a slightly sheepish smile and said yes, he knew. But then when I got home I wrote him a letter, in which I told him again that I loved him, and that I was so sorry he wasn’t going to be there for my wedding, but that he could be confident that I would be ok and that I knew Crusoe would always look after me, because his best qualities - his kindness, strength and gentleness - were the same as Grandad’s, and he had always looked after me.
I also made him a CD of classic songs I knew he loved, plus some newer ones I thought he might like. He listened to it right up to the end. Knowing I did something, no matter how small, to help him it at the end, is tremendously comforting.
First off, I’m sorry you have to go through this.
Second off, there is no “right” way to feel. Feelings aren’t right or wrong, they just are. Some days you will feel bad, some days you will feel fine. It doesn’t mean you love your Grandpa less. So don’t be afraid of your feelings.
Be there for him, and be there for your Grandma. Family is strength. After my FIL died, we spent an evening going through old pictures trying to find one to blow up for the memorial. We picked one taken at my son’s 4th birthday party, where he’s mugging for the camera and has the party hat pulled down over his forehead like a unicorn horn. It was a little weird, looking at it, knowing when and how the picture was snapped, not realizing at the time it would be used for the memorial service, but it was a fun picture, and everyone smiled when they saw it.
The funeral will be for tears and laughter. We had a lot of friends and neighbors, and they all stood up and shared stories.
You will miss him. But I think that’s the best legacy anyone can leave…loved ones who will miss them.