I’d known him virtually my whole life. My biological dad and my mother seperated when I was 4 and my step-dad has been there for as long as I can remember.
He was my dad in all but name and biology. He brought me and my two brothers up from childhood and I lived with him and mum right until he died.
Me and mum found him. He had gone to the bathroom to be sick and had died there. He had a brain heamorage.
Me and mum are doing ok. My biggest source of strength is knowing I have to be strong for my mother. Sure I’m greiving, and I was devestated (and fairly useless) for the first two weeks, but I’m functioning now, and getting through everyday-life knowing that my step-father did more in his fifty three years than most people manage to do in eighty or ninety. He was more liked and respected than anyone else I know or know of. He worked tirelessly for minorities in his mid-career (race-relations) and the elderly/disabled in has latter career (head of the IOM red-cross)
I will miss him, but I am greatful for having known him and for being lucky enough to have been brought up and influenced by him.
It might help to write him a letter. I had the opportinity to write my dad a letter, before he died, but I suspect that writing everything out might help, if only in a cathartic sort of way.
Speaking as someone who, for valid reasons, has virtually no relationship with his daddy, and having no step-father to speak of, I’m always touched when I hear of people who love, respect, and cherish their fathers and/or father figures.
Sounds like you, your brothers, and your mother were very lucky.
My condolences, Lobsang, and I hope that you’ll all be comforted by sweet memories of your step-father.
It’s good of you to be strong for your mother. But don’t neglect your own grief. I did that when my mom died, because I too involved in being strong for my Dad and sister. It ended up prolonging the process.
I honestly appreciate all the kind words. Thankyou to everyone who expressed their sympathy for mine and my mother’s loss.
My step-father (I knew him as “Fred”) is never far from my thoughts. It still seems unfair and unreal that he has gone.
In a few days myself and my mother are facing our first christmas without him. It has been difficult to function for both of us. I have my increased responsibilites at work and mum has her own job (in which she is irreplaceable) to cope with.
We are doing well. I have never been superstitious (I am confidently atheist) but I have found myslef joining my mother in believing that Fred, in his afterlife, is helping us get through things.
