“Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.” -Joan Didion

Exactly a month after dad died, I found myself in North Carolina again. I missed my family, my dad’s house needed to be cleaned, my dad’s cremains were ready, and I just needed to get away from DC.

My dad’s cremains were split into two nondescript boxes. I kept both boxes on my lap in the car and I could not stop thinking about how a big tall man had been reduced to two boxes of ashes. Ashes to ashes. It struck me as odd, how as a child I used to sit on my father’s lap and now the roles were reversed with him sitting on my lap.

We did a lot at my father’s house. Food donated to a food bank. Junk discarded including a huge tub of individually wrapped plastic cutlery and a million copies of a single document denouncing Mormonism in favor of Christianity. Three bedrooms without furniture, but closets full of clothes and shoes, most still with tags attached, inventoried. A box of glasses, twelve pairs with tags still attached, donated to the local Lions’ club. And the fluid-stained and soiled clothes dad died in were finally removed from the washing machine after a month and a day.

I brought two huge tubs of pictures and stuff back with us to DC, a proverbial slice of deaf history… Deaf peddler cards. Dad’s Gallaudet College ID. The hospital bill for my birth (a mere 3k!). My mother’s outstanding handicapped employee award. Yearbooks from 1920’s- 1960’s. And so many more items that only hold special meaning to me, such as my father’s three dusty yellowed notebooks full of definitions for words in an alphabetic order and an used tube of lime-flavored carmex.

A portion of the living room has been transformed into an impromptu shrine to my family with so many different pictures split up into several boxes. I have been trying to organize the pictures with several things in mind… copies for my brother, my cousins, and my aunt. It’s hard to go through the pictures, more so when I’m looking at pictures of baby Carrie and baby Matt, because I know what’s going to happen to them in 5, 10, and 25 years.

Instead of obeying my instinct of obsessively going through the pictures for the 6749th time, I’ve been on a decluttering kick. I counted all of our books and decided that 1,302 books were too many so we got rid of approximately 300. I got rid of a bag of clothes, the tip of a cotton iceberg. My packrat stash of boxes were unearthed and many things were thrown away. The things I had saved, they didn’t have any significant value except for a faint heartbeat of a memory. I do not want my survivors to dig through the debris of my life in search of clues and signs, nor do I want my insignificant mementos to become sacred objects serving as the link between the dead and living.

I think I’m also obsessed with decluttering, because it’s the easiest way to create order out of something that feels so chaotic. But in spite of what I’ve done with the apartment,

I’m still at a loss about the emotional mess I’ve got on my hands. It’s a mess that cannot be rearranged or put into tidy little boxes. I cannot go through my memories, feelings, and questions and get rid of the unpleasant and undesirable bits. I’m stuck with it all, my personal albatross.

Since I’ve returned from the first trip to North Carolina, I’ve developed an aversion of people. I cannot bear to be around people. It makes me think of Hester Prynne and her scarlet letter, only it feels like I’ve got a blue G on my chest. I cannot make eye contact with cashiers at stores let alone people I know. I dread seeing friends. Since April, I can only think of three separate instance in which I decided to initiate social contact with friends.

It feels like the blue G on my chest is painfully obvious and it scares people away and/or makes them uncomfortable… I can understand why, because we have never been taught to respond to other people’s grief other than the cliché “let me know if there’s anything I can do for you”. Death and grief are two of the many things that are supposed to remain secret instead of being acknowledged as an inevitable rite of passage.

Yesterday, we hosted a BBQ for memorial’s day. I was apprehensive about the idea of playing hostess, more so when I already have a hard time interacting with people other than Thad or Pea. I wanted it to be a small gathering, but the number of people just kept growing. The feeling of being a snail without her shell just didn’t go away, instead, it got worse and worse to the point where I got tired of pretending to be ok. And I just retreated to the safety of my bedroom while wondering what had happened to the Carrie I used to be.

All I want to do is talk about my father and my mother. I want to be able to share my confusion, stories, and sadness with someone. It feels so self-indulgent and it really is! It’s like being the ancient mariner, doomed to a lifetime of repeating the same tale to whoever will listen… I feel so selfish, as if the only thing that matters is my grief and confusion. I want to be able to share all of the old family pictures with friends, to show them all of the interesting knickknacks I’ve unearthed. What I want to say and share, it’s all interesting and meaningful… but I also know this feeling isn’t necessarily shared by other people.

It is all so confusing, painful, and alienating. I cannot understand myself, I never did, and I never will.

When I do not understand something, I have the habit of turning to google. You name it, I’ve probably googled it. I think it’s an attempt to connecting with the world at large, a way to confirm that my experiences and questions are shared by other people. So my recent google searches have involved keywords such as “anxiety grief”, “grief estranged father”, “grief no parents left”, and “grief after childhood abuse”. I also have looked for online support groups dedicated to grief… and nothing fits what I’m feeling.

Nobody shares my story and I need to connect with someone who knows… It’s not a tidy package of grief but a mountain of grief that has been frozen and hidden for 16 years topped with a fresh layer of grief… a double whammy of grief. All the messy ugly emotions such as guilt, shame, and anger. I cannot get over my guilt, I cannot stop feeling like a traitor…

I just wish I didn’t feel so alienated or alone, but my grief feels selfish. I’m more than convinced that my brand of grief is foreign to everyone else and I know that’s a narcissistic view of grief and it’s just special snowflake syndrome, but it’s not changing. You cannot pump logic into something that runs on irrationality.

The only person capable of understanding my grief is my brother and he’s even better than me at maintaining the façade of being an emotionally detached island of humanity. Crying my eyes out to him doesn’t feel possible, it’s like I’m supposed to keep things together, the one who makes the primary decisions before consulting my brother… And our memories are so different. I have repressed almost all of the memories of abuse, the same cannot be said for my brother.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

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70 responses to ““Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.” -Joan Didion

  1. Carrie,
    I can identify with almost all of which you have written here, but I realize you are correct in thinking that there is a part of you that must travel this road alone. What to do? Just be you, whoever that may be, recognizable or not, you are now privy to another unearthed rough facet of yourself. Take comfort in that which makes you uncomfortable, for soon you will not be.

  2. This is not going to be a hopeful comment. Just honest.

    When my Tim died, the pastor who gave the message at his funeral said something that has stuck with me since.

    When you lose someone, you are suddenly living in a different universe than everyone else. A parallel universe, yes, but… My universe is one of Tim-not-being. It’s completely different from the universe everyone else lives in, moves through. It is defined by an absence that no one else can or will ever understand, not even the other people who lost Tim.

    But you are expected, encouraged, to rejoin the rest of the world. That doesn’t help. You can’t. That world doesn’t exist as an option for you anymore.

    You learn, as time goes, to sync the two a little bit better. You learn to shield. But it can take a long goddamn time.

    I wish I could tell you that there’s a magic formula, a divine ceremony, something. That would be a lie, though. And I still get angry at people who expect me to be done grieving. Fuck them. They don’t live in this universe.

    You will never be the same. But the new Carrie will be okay in ways you can’t foresee. She will learn.

  3. Thank you for writing your story. It has touched me on several levels. This statement of yours resonates with me: “I do not want my survivors to dig through the debris of my life in search of clues and signs, nor do I want my insignificant mementos to become sacred objects serving as the link between the dead and living”.

    After losing my Dad and experiencing the powerful emotions that accompany going through mementos and other belongings, I have vowed to organize my own life better. I’m finding it much more difficult than it should be.

    If you’d like to read it, there is a short poem I wrote on my blog called “Purging a Life”. Maybe it will let you know that even though every person’s grief is an individual thing, many experiences are shared.

    Be safe and well. xo – Deb

    http://debrazone.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/purging-a-life/

  4. Give it time. Doesn’t that sound like a cliché? Our son died 15 years ago, and time is starting to help.

  5. I feel your pain. I was estranged from my family when my father died…I still am and I am grieving the relationship we all used to have. I don’t know if my brothers will inform me when my mother passes. So I am grieving my mother now even though she may still b e living. There is a grieving process… look up a book called ” on death and dying” Elizabeth kubler Ross . It will help you work through this hard time. I want to say ” it gets better…easier” but I don’t know that is true. It hasn’t got better for me.

  6. Dear distressed friend in blogging. There is no real distress when we look to the everlasting nature of life. Life, the gift of God, as all of His gifts has an everlasting quality. We, living on this earth, can hold fast to these gifts; one of these is the renewal of mercy each day. I invite you to look at the rising sun and remember God’s loving creation of the family; your family. Each family has its ancestors who have died. What we hope for is to pass from this life having made a contribution to the betterment to others.
    It is the merciful plan of God that we only suffer confusion and difficulties a short lifetime before we are drawn back to Him. Trust in His mercy. One can never guess what difficulties your father may have encountered had he remained. God saw fit to take him at this time; looking for your dad’s best interest. God loves each of us, that is why He created us. At the proper time we are each drawn back to Him.
    Now, you can draw near to God and prepare yourself by becoming friends with Him who loves you beyond all understanding. God heals the broken-hearted. Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted, said Jesus. You are blessed and God will heal your heartache, if you let Him.

  7. I genuinely almost cried reading this. To a large extent I relate to what you are feeling. My mother passed away when I was sixteen and last year during University my biological father (who I thought I had no feelings for) died of 2 heart attacks. Grief is something I have been dealing with for about 6 years. There is no handbook with dealing with grief especially when you are dealing with huge confused feelings regarding the person who has passed away. What I can tell you is this: ”Be selfish in your grief! Listen to your emotions! Ask for help (even when you think you are being a burden, because you are not being a burden, you are human) from your loved ones (what is the point of having a support system if they will not be there during the hard times). Honestly if you ever want to talk or vent, I am here. Cause during my grief my Aunt was there in so many ways.
    Please, you are allowed to feel however you are feeling.

    Love, Nuura

  8. nicciattfield

    Just feel, no matter what comes up. All the best. Grief is horrible.

  9. You are right, in that you should be able to talk about this. You need to talk. Look up support groups for survivors of abuse. You could also look for some sort of counselling. It sounds like this is way too big for you to handle on your own. Good luck.

  10. Well you blogged about your father, mother. Give yourself a break. You cleaned out his place and then your place. That’s good. Spend time with memories in quiet times.

    When my partner’s mother died @93 yrs., my partner only had to throw away or give away a 10×10 foot storage locker of her stuff. Her 2 bedroom house had been reduced slowly down to this over the last 20 yrs. of life.

    You are absolutely right: clear your clutter now to make it easier on loved ones later on. Keep the precious, most memorable and useful stuff.

  11. I went to this course about emotions and the message I kept getting was the healing is in the feeling and that feeling and thoughts are very different. Feelingsand thoughts are different and we can try to think our way out of emotions rather than just feeling them. By the way decluttering can be very good.we moved house several times in a short spaceoftimeand it was cathartic.

  12. Hey Carrie, this post really moved me. I can’t say that I fully understand how you are feeling, however to an extent I feel I can relate. My Dad has Alzheimer’s, so he’s not dead, but in a way he is gone. So many things I wish had been different and so much I wish I could come to terms with. I don’t have the words, or rather cannot find the words to describe my anguish to other people. No words can describe those kind of feelings. I’m sorry that you have to struggle with your feelings and thoughts. I don’t know if there is an “other side” to come out at. I haven’t found it yet, but I hope to one day and I hope you find it too. Till then, stay strong.

  13. After reading this post and your about page, you can take it from me as a stranger on the internet, that you have suffered a lot, but you are strong. You make look at yourself and think otherwise, but there is at least one person out there who knows that you know what to do, if you really try.

  14. I believe an experienced grief counselor may be able to help you. As different as all of us are, you are not alone in your type of grief.

    Please continue to share your thoughts and memories. ALL of it is interesting and meaningful. Be fair to yourself. You have the right to grieve in your own way — and you do not have to follow a timeline.

  15. My heart goes out to you. I do not understand what you may be going through but the pain is the same. Such a heartfelt expression of the said and mostly unsaid.

  16. This is very moving. My mum has just died and so much here resonates- like the wanting to tell the story again and again. For me the photos draw me in, again and again. It is a time like no other.

  17. I don’t know you, but I’ve read your post and feel the anguish of it. I would like to suggest that you see a good therapist. Perhaps someone who specializes in grief work. I’m so very sorry that you feel alone in your grief, but the truth is, your grief isn’t selfish.

    In the effort of finding a good therapist, you could call your local Hospice organization. They may be able to help you find someone who can walk with you on this difficult journey. I wish you the very best.

  18. workitoutlifeservices

    Be who you are, say what you need to say, honey. You aren’t the only one with this issue but you might be the first & certainly the bravest to start a Support Group for this particular brand of grief. My grandmother did a real number on my mom and her other children and when she passed it was with many of the same feelings as well as the feeling of the Wicked Witch is dead for which created some guilt. My grandfather on the other hand was said to be a saint among men. He went long before my grandmother and I can see that as old as my mother is (in her mid 60’s and the youngest of her siblings) they all could have used a Support Group to help them. They broke the cycle of abuse with their own children but they have yet to break the emotional mountain of everything you are talking about here.

    I say, be open, be self-indulgent and people may surprise you with their own secrets. My grandmother was so horrid she used to leave suicide notes blaming her kids for not being enough, for not doing enough, for being rotten kids, for not cleaning the house immaculate enough. To this day you can eat off their floors but nothing is ever good enough, so the physical abuse didn’t continue but the emotional and mental bs carried over. If you watch people you will see in their idiosyncrasies their battle wounds and collage of mixed feelings of love and good memories often times overlapped with bad ones and not sure how they should feel about any of it. I wish you Much Love and courage in your journey. Thank you for sharing. In doing so you reminded me how much love & understanding I need to pay my mother cause these arent things we often speak of either & its not going to go away by ignoring it.

  19. Reblogged this on My Blog.

  20. Wow, what an amazing post. I can completely relate to a lot of what you’ve written, most especially your inability to be around people. My mom died 6 months ago and I have struggled the most with my aversion to people, which is so different from my usual social self. I just don’t want to be around anyone with few exceptions. I have googled anxiety grief, too! I’ve developed awful anxiety that I have never before experienced.
    Your post is so refreshing to read. It feels so validating to know I am not the only one who shares these feelings. I spend a lot of time wondering where the “real” me went because I think the current me is going crazy. (not really, but sure feels that way sometimes!) It really is all so confusing and painful and alienating because of what you said–death and grief are still too taboo to openly discuss. Our grief makes others too uncomfortable and the silence we must endure creates more alienating, painful feelings.
    What I’ve done; I work really hard at being gentle with myself. I find small ways to give myself comfort and encouragement. I talk to my best friend, who’s mom is currently dying. I swear, I feel like she’s the only person who understands. Mostly, I have to remind myself constantly to stay in the moment. When my mind goes down the painful past, my mom’s last days, my horrible family dynamics, etc….I bring myself back to the present by saying “here and now” about a gazillion times! I walk myself through each of my processes by saying out loud, “I am driving to work. I am on the road right now”, etc….whatever it is I’m doing, I process it out loud to remind myself I am here in this moment.
    Sorry for a long winded “two cents”, but thank you so much for writing this and helping me feel a little less crazy.
    My thoughts are with you.

  21. Life is sucking it up and going to the next day. Remember the good stuff and move on for your turn is coming. Make sure that those who will remember you will think of only the good times you shared and start the ball rolling on that concept. Get living as it is said in Shawshank.

  22. this strikes a very familiar note. I wish i could tell you. but I understand.

  23. The kind of grief that you are feeling can be found in the rooms if AA. Strange, but true. Most people in there have emotional traumas and once they let go of the bottle, they go through an indescribable period of grief.

  24. Although no one will share your exact experience, there are individuals that have been through similar experiences that are willing to listen and support you through this difficult time. Look for either a grief counselor or support group that you could join. All that you are currently feeling is very normal and not selfish. Intense emotions are common following the death of a parent. Hang in there and do what is best for you now.

  25. Reblogged this on Martha Keim-St. Louis' blog and commented:
    keep talking you way through it. Get a professional, you know, a shrink. It’s worth the cost.

  26. love all of your fantastic blog posts. Please could you check out my brand new photography blog http://www.livingwithphotography.co.uk/

  27. Carrie,
    There are others that feel similar, but you are brave to speak about it. I understand what it feels like to be connected to the items left behind. Grief is so tough! Nothing prepares you for it. It can definitely be isolating. You can move forward though. Maybe not quickly or completely in this life but you can heal little by little. When I was 16, I witnessed a murder and the survivors guilt and grief from it has been a tough battle. I have history of abuse and all sorts of traumatic experiences but grief is the worst. I really wish you the best in your battle. There is nothing wrong with you for having emotions. You are not narcissistic. You are suffering. It takes time. Be good to yourself because you have great worth!

  28. am sorry for your loss and your pain…feeling alone/alienated is natural…and I know what you mean when you went to google…it is our best friend, a friend who knows it all, who knows what to say when…
    i hope you get to release yourself and feel comforted and find more energy to comfort your brother…
    you’re story is very touching and has left me teary…
    sending my wishes.

  29. Just let it flow, my friend. I lost my father to cancer when I was 12 years old. The pain doesn’t really go away. It just gets numb after a while. I’ve learned to live with it, and it’s been almost 30 years. Soon, your heart will open up to the other wonderful things around you and you will be smiling again. Give it time. Stay strong.

  30. Fantastic post full of honest emotion. I wish you all the best in handling how you feel, and by writing this I think you’re off to a good start. ♥

  31. I really admire the honesty of your posts, you seem like a person I can relate to in many ways. Best of luck with everything.

  32. Thank you for sharing. I think you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to, and doing it well. I hope you find those people who will understand exactly what you’re going through for your own peace of mind, but please know that what you’re feeling is not selfish. I believe what you said – that grief is a deeply personal thing and it’s hard to get others to understand. But screw it, you ARE a special snowflake and you deserve your own kindness and attention! I’m sure you’re in the thoughts of everyone that’s read this beautiful piece.

  33. Your writing is brilliant, touching and so very real. The problem in this culture is that we think even grief should have a timetable so we can just “move on.” That isn’t the way it works at all. Love your quote choices – particularly the Queen Elizabeth…one I’ve used myself from time to time.

  34. Reblogged this on Lianne's Picks – best of the blogs and commented:
    Thoughtful. touching and too real to be an easy read. Worth it!

  35. Didn’t realized when tears rolled down from my eyes while reading this. God bless you! !

  36. my two cents, you grieve your way. that’s what you do. let it out, all of it. talk about him, don’t let anyone stop you short! don’t let anyone tell you to move on or get over it. don’t let anyone tell you they understand. they don’t. everyone grieves differently. connect with people who will listen to you. hold on to his love in your heart, you will carry him with you always. wrapping you in a hug of love and light.

  37. I can’t think about that moment, the moment when my father or my mother will die.
    It’s something too big for my shoulders.
    I’ll be alone, my sister won’t be present.
    I’ll have to manage everything alone.

    Ciao

  38. Telling yourself all the stories, over and over again, it should get you through. And every time you tell the story, it will be a little different, and so we’ll you.
    I have a story(or more – part of the same novel though) i’ve told myself far more than a few time. I see it changing, the way i am telling; at one point i’ve realized that i’ve changed, not really the story. Sometimes now, even f i don’t really feel the need to tell the story for the story itself, i tell it again just to see if/how it changed.

  39. Take a deep breath! Don’t denie the grief or it will remain, like a splinter in your soul!! Hope things will get better soon!

  40. bevelleauthor

    Reblogged this on Bev Elle and commented:
    Oh, it does indeed!

  41. Watching a movie today June 8, 2014 it has been 7 years and 10 months and 1 day since I have a loss of my child David Money he was 23 years old he is now 31 years old. This movie was a loss of a child we never know in a split second your whole life can change before you. It changes you in so many way the way you look at things, people, places the trigger points that happen.. How people walk away from your life and the blessing they have missed out from me. How they could have learned many things. I miss David so very much. How then we stay away from people without realizing we really have because people look at you different. How it changes the family dynamics in all areas. You see others with their children doing thing having grandchildren showing them off. It is so very different for us w/ the loss of child it is club we would never want to be in. How sometime family grow apart or become closer sometimes afraid to talk about them. I will always talk about my David even though my heart is forever broke in half always will be now. It is just so hard

    The love that we have for our children the dreams to see how they become shattered before our eyes.

    I love you David Money your smiles, your laughter, the way you enjoyed life your friends I miss you more and more every day..

    Your loving Mom….June 8, 2014

  42. Deepest sympathy on your loss. Such a powerful and poignant post.

  43. I can’t imagine the mix of emotions you’re feeling, even though I’ve just read all of that… And at the same time I can completely imagine them. All I wish is that I could give you a hug. And if you ever do wish to share your stories with someone, I (although a complete stranger) would be more than willing to lend an ear (or eyes).

  44. See a therapist. They are there to help you through these kinds of things. I honestly think that everyone should find a good therapist – someone who is in your corner no matter what. I’ve found a great one, and she has helped me though all kinds of trials. Also – a therapist would have a more comprehensive list of resources for dealing with grief. Support groups, etc. Know that you are not alone in not being able to deal with so many seemingly conflicting feelings. I hope you can find someone to help you through.

  45. my mother passed away when i was 7 i am now 18. It doesnt get easier, you just learn how to deal with it. I still find myself crying at night. Every funeral, every sad thing, i somehow connect to my mother. Find good friends, find hobbies, maybe find a support group. You’ve lost someone important to you, but dont lose yourself along with them. Overcome this obstacle in your life.

  46. I stumbled across your blog post – I’m not even sure how I did, but I did. My dad died too, on the 4th of May this year. Everyone grieves differently, so I’m not going to go with the cliches of how I “know how you feel” and the like, but I do see some familiarities in the way you cope and the way I have been trying to. For instance, the day my dad died, I took fifteen enormous bags of clothes and books to charity shops around my town. You’re spot on when you mentioned needing order when everything you knew seems to be tumbling into disorder. And just like you, I avoid talking about the situation at all costs – I feel like when people say that they are sorry, they are really just grateful that it didn’t happen to them. (Horrible, I know). But I really do mean it when I say I am so, so sorry about your dad. They say it gets better, which I don’t think is necessarily true, but I think – I hope – that one day it will be easier to comprehend than it is now. I don’t know you, and I didn’t know your dad but I’m sure he would have wanted you to be happy and be strong if he were here. Take care x

  47. Beautifully written and expressed. There are lots of us out here. Far too many indeed.

  48. I’m not sure you’ll find anyone who has felt the same exact pain as you have and you will. We’re all different people with different experiences. But you’ll find subsets of people who have experienced a subset of what you’ve experienced. When my father died, I was young. I still had my mother and I had my brothers. But none of us grieved together. I felt isolated, and I resented my brothers for not supporting me emotionally at the time. I resented my mother more so because she was mentally unstable, and she could not support me either. Thinking about it still makes me angry. I understand what you are feeling when you say you feel alone. But you aren’t selfish when you say you want to connect with someone.

  49. I had my jaw fallen down, reading each and every word you have written. While the pain is enormous, I adore the beauty with which you have pinned your feeling to the post. Parents are the wall which assure us of back up even when we have no time for them or are not around. It’s the cycle of life and we all have to go through it. It’s popular saying in my country, every one of us rise from dust and get merge into it eventually. We have to bear our pain our self, but friends do come in handy. In the end I really felt every word you have written. My wishes are with you.

  50. so sad to hear that your father passed away 😦 Life is so fragile…but your friends and people who you care about most will definitely stay with you forever… don’t worry…

  51. The last question is the same one I ask myself everyday…if you find out let me know, and I’ll do the same 🙂

  52. My dad passed about 2 years ago. It’s not easy to deal with. You’ve got the added extra of abuse to deal with. I didn’t have that and I still get teary over missing my Dad. My Dad had a good life and nearly made it to 90. Not a lot there to be sad about other than the fact that he’s not there anymore.
    Please, go find someone you can talk to. You should be able to talk to your husband. I’m only guessing, but it seems like you’re married with a family of your own. Don’t let this devour you.

  53. What a sad, sad tale. I am so sorry for you loss. My parents are dead and I feel like an orphan at times. I am from NC and miss home a lot.

  54. Raquel Dias da Silva

    You’re doing well. Read what you write and you will find a great woman with her head right on her shoulders doing what needs to be done. One day at a time. Step by step. I wish you are better now. Good luck.

  55. Exactly what you are doing! Writing about it, expressing your feelings, your grief and your anger. The beauty about writing is you can say what you want, and then decide if 1) you want anyone to read it, and 2) if you want anyone to respond to what you have written! That gives you an enormous freedom, and, in my experience, is also very cathartic. My wife died recently from metastatic bowel cancer. Some of the feelings you express absolutely mirror my own : I am still going through this compulsion to share mementos of my wife that I have unearthed to write my blog. And I think that other family members, and friends will be as interested /delighted at my discoveries as I am. Wrong, of course : for the vast majority of mourners who attended the funeral, the mourning effectively ended when they drove home. I think they rapidly tire of my rabbiting on about my grief and obsessions. Get on with your life – behave like a man, etc etc etc

  56. Pingback: Shared from WordPress | Gerry Klaus

  57. It’s ok to grief over what was ….and what wasnt. just remember that both are in the past. The future is still yours. Some one else or something else WILL live it for you if you don’t own it. This is your life. No one can make you feel anything – feeling is a choice. Choose the ones that make you a better person. sometimes they are the hard ones for a brief time ….and sometimes they are the brief ones for a hard time.

  58. This is so true. Check out my blog if you want. 🙂

  59. You are correct in stating that you are in a unique brand of grief. Everyone deals with loss in their own unique fashion. It is both appropriate and necessary to work through this grief process; whatever you feel and experience is acceptable and it is not for anyone to judge or impose their influence upon…it is YOURS, to do, as you need. I am so terribly sorry that you must suffer your father’s loss. It is extremely painful and lonely in the acute stage…nothing brings us to our knees more brutally than the loss of that most cherished in our hearts…the stronger our connection and bond, the more bereft we are.
    I wish you solace and peace in your happier memories and thoughts of your cherished father…you will be comforted in knowing that this keeps him in your heart always, therefore alive, through you.

  60. In the wink of an eye!!

  61. Very sad, but I enjoyed it much.

  62. Pingback: “Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.” -Joan Didion | inspireaffirmspirit

  63. I agree with Nanette. No matter who we’ve lost we can not understand how another feels. I’m sorry for your grief, and for the past that makes it that much more difficult. Your blog is wonderful.

  64. I completely understand what you are going through. When my mother died, I went into a deep depression for months, plus I was also going through a divorce at the time, so I got hit from both ends of the spectrum. I will never forget that 3 months after her death, I was talking to a friend of mine, I was in tears and near hysteria when he turned to me and said that I needed to “get over myself as there were people in the world who were really suffering and I just needed to move on”!!!! I learned something that day, there are two kinds of people in the world, people who have lost someone and people who have not. Needless to say, he and I are no longer friends. My mother died almost 5 years ago now and I still cry, so screw anybody who tells you to “get on with your life”. Everyone grieves in their own way, so you do what is best for you, this is your life, live it how you see fit.

  65. I hope your grief lifts in moments, so you can find where you want to be. I have heard of grief groups? Maybe google that…?

  66. Memories..they make us and break us like anything :/ Sad to hear about your loss my friends. Life is uncertain these days and this is the way it ends for everybody; a mere box of ashes. Take care and thanks for sharing this!

  67. Thank you. I needed to read this today.

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