I was reading a thread on another message board concerning people who had lost one or both parents. Someone wrote that the pain that you deal with afterwards is like carrying around an anvil every day. It never gets better , you just get used to it, and sooner or later you forget it is there.
That just struck a cord in me. My dad died a little over three years ago.
At that time I was working a job that went until about midnight. I called my mom around 9pm or so to ask her what was for dinner or some silly thing. She said that the people that were at home were having such and such. But she phrased it in such a weird way. I asked her what she meant by that and she just got quiet and said she’d rather talk to me at home about it.
It turns out my dad had gone missing. He had told one co-worker and his therapist that he just couldn’t handle it anymore and that he had a gun. Our family had no idea that he had even bought a gun. He also told the therapist he was heading for Trinity, CA.
The next day we saw the police and put a missing persons report out on him and some sort of alert for his car and credit cards, etc.
It took them four days to connect a car sitting on the side of a road up in Trinity with our report. The reason they finally noticed it was someone was trying to siphon gas out of it.
So, my father’s dead body sat in the woods for four days it seems. We were told the view from where he was sitting, against a tree, was beautiful though.
My mom had to go ID his body. They wouldn’t let her see his head. They only showed her his legs, I think. She said she just held his foot like it was his hand and said goodbye, She must be the strongest woman ever.
It’s sad because my dad and I had a long period of barely speaking and we had just started getting a little close. We were very alike in a lot of ways
He didn’t really mention anyone in his note besides where he wanted my mom to scatter his ashes. I often wonder if he whispered goodbye to my mom and my sister and I that morning when he left. He was always up before everyone to go to work.
My God, I miss him.
Sorry, for rambling but this is the first time I have actually written all that out. It is way easier to lock it up inside. Thanks for listening.
I am not sure what to say. I lost my father two years ago but even so I can’t imagine how heartbreaking that must have been for you all to endure such a loss under those traumatic circumstances. I hope that writing about it here brings you some solace.
It is easier in some ways to lock it up inside, but eventually it needs to come out so that anvil can lighten a bit. I hope it has, just a little, for you. hugs
Some people think of the pain of loss as the anvil. Other people think all pain eventually subsides, that time heals all wounds. I’m personally not sure which school of thought I lean towards, since I’ve been fortunate enough so far not to have lost very many people I love.
Either way, I hope that you eventually achieve peace.
Thank you. The pain has lessened from 3 years ago. At the moment it is it a bit heavier and sharper than other days because I let it come back up to the surface. I know it’s a healthy thing to do though.
My Dad is old and frail.
My cousin, who is a care worker for the elderly, gently made me accept that he will never get better and that I must be strong for the rest of the family when the inevitable happens. Very wise words.
I thank you for this thread, applaud your courage and wish you well.
I’m coming up on the year aniversary of my Dad’s death. Four days after that will be the 8th anniversary of my Mom’s death. I dealt with each very differently. My mom and I were very close and I fell apart completely when she died. Took me years to feel fully functional again. If I think too much about it, it still sucks the wind out of me, and there are some changes that will stay with me always, but that’s not all bad. When my Dad died, it was completely different. He and I had always been pretty close, and much more so after my mom died. When he got sick, I took care of him and he put me in charge of his final stuff. I held his hand as he died and we were able to say goodbye. With my Mom, I didn’t get the opportunity. Made a big difference I think. After my dad died, I went into high gear, making all the arrangements, playing hostess at the wake and funeral and writing/reading the eulogy and writing/singing a song during the service. I could never have done that when my mom died.
My point is, you react the way you react. It feels the way it feels. There’s no right, there’s no wrong. I miss my dad like crazy. I hate not having either of my parents alive. But with my Mom, I’ve sort of settled into being used to it. It’s not as sharp now, 8 years later. Either way, you just get through it and you never know what’s going to bring up the memories.
Khadaji, I know you just passed the anniversary of your Dad’s death. Hope you’re healing well. I remember this thread that you posted right after he died. I was grateful to have an opportunity to reflect on my dad while he was still alive. He died two months later. lulu, it may help to add your memories here. I’d love to hear more about him, if you feel like it.
Salem, you are right, that thread was very important to me and it meant so much to me when the rest joined in to share their stories of the their fathers. I have saved a copy of that thread and even if the SDMB goes away, I will keep it.
I think threads like this help the healing process for those of us who have lost one or both parents. It helps to get it out into the open and for everyone, that healing process is different.
I was raised by my paternal grandparents. I called my grandmother Mom and my grandfather Poppa. My father has been in my life since the day I was born, but he wasn’t my Dad…Poppa was.
My Mom died suddenly on Thanksgiving Day, October 13th 1991. I was 18. I wasn’t home when it happened, I was as my now-ex’s parents for Dinner almost 2 hours away. She had an undiagnosed brain anurysm that burst while she was washing her hair. I had the car and my Poppa had to dial 911. I carried the guilt around for a long long time feeling that if Poppa had the car, he could have gotten help faster. Rationally I know this isn’t true, but I harboured a lot of guilt for a long time. I was lucky, my Mom and I had a good relationship and the last thing she said to me as I walked out the door was “Don’t get your feet wet…I love you”. My Poppa, my Mom and I had a running joke from the day I started driving…every time I left the house I was told to Watch out for the drunks, and don’t get your feet wet. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her. I got home at 6:30 and my father was waiting for me…he told me Mom had collapsed at 3:00 and she was in the city at the best hospital. We got there and the whole family was gathered in the waiting room…the rest is a blur. It’s over 13 years later and I still miss her. I miss her hugs and her kisses and her amazing way at making me feel better.
After my Mom died, my Poppa and I became very very close. We lived together for almost 4 years, until I got married. He was my rock through a bad marriage, a bad divorce and finally supported me in a new relationship.
Poppa died on July 24th, 2004. He and I went to a Celtic Festival in a small town on the St. Laurence River on June 4th. On June 9th, he called my Aunt to say he wasn’t feeling well, and to come and get him to take him to the hospital. He had a massive stroke in the hospital. They transfered him to the best hospital in the city, the same one where my Mom died. The next 7 weeks were a wicked roller coaster. He got a lot better, then a lot worse, then a lot better again. Doctors were pleased with his progress and decided to send him to the hospital in my hometown so he could be near the majority of the family. He spent his 80th birthday in the hospital. The day that we had planned a huge surprise party for. Almost a year in the making. The day of his stroke, he apologized for ruining his party. We told him it wasn’t ruined, just postponed. At the hospital in the last week of his life, he had refused all meds, all food and only wanted some water and his family. I spent many hours gazing into his beautiful blue eyes, telling him I loved him and to go to Mom. He did.
My dad will have been gone 10 years this coming Friday. In a way it is hard to believe that it has been so long, and in another way it seems much longer. I had just turned 18 when he died very suddenly, so it is hard to believe that I have missed sharing my entire adult life with him. My younger brothers were 14 and 11 when he died, so it has been difficult for them as well.
The anvil analogy has struck a chord with me, also. I’m not sure if that exactly describes what my experience has been like. Occasionally something will make me aware of the pain and loss that is still there. The depth of it surprises me sometimes, that it is so great and so close to the surface, yet sometimes a few days go by without my really thinking much about him.
I miss having my dad to share the milestones in my life, good and bad. I miss the person my mom was before my dad died – she is different now and I wish it were easier for her. Selfishly, I think so many times I need advice, and my dad would have been the perfect one to ask for help, and he isn’t here.
lulu and others, thanks for this thread. Warm wishes to all.
Salem asked how me and my dad were alike. We both feel and I still feel a huge since of responsibility towards others. We both mutter a lot when we are upset. I got my strong work ethic from him. There are a million little things. He also passed on his anxiety problems but I can deal with them.
I was the biggest daddy’s girl until I was about 5 or so and then it just seem like he backed off. He was always The Enforcer after that. That being said, if I ever really , really needed him he came through with flying colors. He just wasn’t a person I could talk to comfortably. But when I had come back to live in my parent’s house for a while at the age of 22 ( escaping an abusive relationship ) we had started being able to talk a little and he could express a little of his frustration with how things in the house were going. It made me so happy that he would actually talk to me. And then less than a year later he was gone.
I am not mad at him anymore. One of the only reasons I was mad in the first place was for my sister. She was only 9 at the time. Me and my brother made it to our adulthoods with a father. She did not.
Thirteen years ago I lost my mom to suicide. I had to ID the body and be questioned by the police. This event has marked me for life. Not a day goes by that I cannot remember the image, the emotion, the anger and sadness. To add to the shock of this, that was the year that both my in-laws died very suddenly. Three deaths in five months.
Almost three years ago my dad died of cancer. I happened to go to the hospital early in the morning, just had one of those feelings. I sat with him and held his hand and talked to him until he took his last breath. The nurse said I could stay as long as I wanted. I thought I should stay until his wife came in, I didn’t want her to be alone at that moment. Well, she wasn’t answering her cell phone and eventually showed up 2 hours later. So I just kept going over to my dad and trying to close his mouth and put chapstick on his lips and comb his hair. It was a very long and difficult 2 hours. I am haunted by it to this day.
I have a hard time relating to people my age who haven’t dealt with death of a parent or serious illness. Does anyone else feel that way? I’m not talking about a grandparent, because eventually everyone my age loses a grandparent. I mean death or chronic/severe and debilitating illness of a parent.
I am so sorry for everyone’s losses. It may help to talk with someone like a therapist. I tried that for many years. But, because I am also dealing with my own health issues, I need to focus on the present time. It’s hard, that’s for sure.
I wish everyone peace and healing. It’s been 18 years now since the death of my father, and about four months since the death of my mother. I wanted to say something about an anvil and pain and heartbreak, but I can’t.
I hope that writing about it here brings you some solace.