Sad day for me.

Today is my son’s birthday; 42 years.

It’s hard to believe that at 6:04 PM today I was introduced to the love of my life.

It’s even harder to believe he died nearly 9 years ago. I’ve told parents of my patients for decades that it gets better with time. I was so very wrong. Losing a child never stops hurting.
The time between the moments of pain get longer, over time, but the pain is no different today than it was that awful day I got the call from his friend.

I started crying yesterday. I’ve cried on and off all day today. My husband has been a rock, but being up most of the night, then keeping me busy from 6:00 am 'til 2:30 took its toll. He’s napping now. I snapped at him over something stupid, then went to another room. I just went to apologize and found him asleep on the couch. I won’t wake him. I can manage myself for a couple hours.

I sorry to bring down the day, but I’m better if I vent a bit.

Thanks for listening.

M.

{{Picunurse}}

I have a coworker who just passed the first anninversary of the death of her adult son. She isn’t dealing with it well, drinks quite a bit.

I don’t know what to say, as I’ve never had children. But I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers this evening. And vent here all you need to, I suspect it’s a lot healthier than how my coworker is handling it.

{{picunurse}}

Oh jeeez…I’m so sorry.

I don’t dring much or often, but I had a drink of Absolut Peper™ as a toast at lunch. It didn’t make me feel any better.

Tell your friend to find a support group or a grief counselor. Even though it doesn’t lessen the pain, it makes it easier to deal with.

I’ll do that picunurse.

I’m so sorry to hear about your loss.

I can’t give any advice. I’m new to this whole major loss thing. But in one of the grief books I was reading the author talked about how she went to her husband’s grave and said goodbye to all of the parts of him, mental and physical, head to toe.

I did that a couple of weeks ago, and it was liberating and blubbery and sorrowful and gentle all at the same time. I felt like I was celebrating my husband while ticking off all of these wonderful and not-so-wonderful aspects of him.

You may have already done something similar in your long journey, so ignore this if it’s just the same old same old.

I wish you peace.

I’m so sorry. It’s tough at any age, at least it was to my grandfather. He was sad but strong, even stoic, when his wife died when they were in their late 70s. But when my dad died in his early 50s, with Grandpa in his (IIRC) 90s, he just completely broke down at the funeral. You’re not supposed to bury your kids.

I’m here all night picunurse, whatever I can do.

((((((HUGS))))))

Bill

And you.

I have done similar things. We released roses with notes to Michael into a stream above a waterwall. I planted a tree along that same stream and one in our yard from a corkscrew willow from a dozen roses Michael gave me for that Mothers’ Day.
The tree in our yard is almost 50 feet tall now.

I’m very sorry. No one should have to go through that. I wish you peace however you may find it.

You’ve come to the perfect place to vent. I know I’ve been comforted countless times by other dopers when I feel like crap, and I hope that you have the same experience now.

How sad to hear that. This won’t be much comfort but I hug my kids a little tighter after reading a story like this. My wife read the riot act to our 6-year-old because she caught her eating a crayon. Stories like yours make that little stuff so hard to get worked up over. Cold comfort I know but it would give me a slight bit of cheer I suppose if I had to go through it. My thoughts are with you and your husband.

Your son and I share a birthday. I turned 50 today. I am going to bed soon, and I will pray for you. I am so sorry.

I am so sorry. It’s been 6 years since my sister died, and every late August, I get blue (that’s when she died–we aren’t sure of the date, and that’s another level of hell).

Thinking of you tonight.

{{{picunurse}}} My thoughts and prayers are with you.

I’m so sorry.

Sorry ! That’s all I can say .
There is this saying in Sanskrit language.

Bharya Dukkham puna Bharya

Bhartru Dukkham Puna Bhartru

Putra Dukkham puna puna

Meaning :

Sorrow over the loss of a wife lasts till you get a new wife

Sorrow over the loss of husband lasts till you get a new husband

Sorrow over the loss of a son lasts forever and ever…

I am sorry for your loss picunurse. Unfortunately you and I are in a special club, my beautiful son was killed on the job 2 1/2 years ago. I take comfort in the fact that after years of struggling, he was finally the man I knew and hoped he always could be. He was content and so very happy. I had last seen him at his wedding 3 weeks before he died. He was 28.

All we can do is hold on to our memories. As long as someone remembers them, they are truly not gone.