Very sorry for your loss. I'm glad that you got to be with her. It is incredibly difficult. Sending thoughts and prayers to you and your family.
man, i'm so sorry for your loss. thank you for sharing. i read this while at work and my eyes watered. i'm glad you're not keeping it all in and i think writing this all out will help you stay positive and celebrate her life. hang in there, man.
Very sorry to hear about your loss. Your mom sounded like she was a great person and for how painful this is for you and your family it sounds like she went out on her own terms with her family around her. I'm also very sorry to hear about your dad. You're seeing another side of him because you've always known him as a parent but remember before you were even born he was a man in love and he's just lost the love of his life. One of the hardest things for children to realize is that their parents are human. Don't forget that you're human too and as much as you might want to take care of your father, your kids and other family at this time take care of yourself too.
Very sorry to hear this. Thank you for the reminder to the rest of us to cherish our moments with loved ones. Sometimes we tend to take them for granted.
LeRoy what a gift that your kids got to know your mom. That was the main reason I moved closer to my parents ten yrs ago as my dad was in his 80's and I wanted my kids to know him (and my mom) before he passed. Now that he's passed I'm so glad that I made the move as they became very close to him (and my mom). I also like that you are communicating with your kids about your mom since she's passed away. Bottling up their emotions isn't good. Hang in there LeRoy as this whole thing is one HUGE rollercoaster of emotions. I'll post the article on grieving I found yrs ago on here and hopefully it will help.
Here you go LeRoy. Wish I knew who wrote this as it's very insightful. "I'm old. What it means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not". I've lost friends, best friends,, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents... I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see. As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the waves come crashing. But in between the waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks"
That seems to be pretty accurate. The waves are coming a little less frequently but it's still a challenge getting out of the fog of the last week. It's still very early and we still have a lot to deal with that will almost certainly be a 120' wave. Thanks...
Sorry for your loss. My mum passed away from cancer in 2014 soon after I moved to another country to work and didn't have any friends. I've been a member on this board for a LONG time but never post. I felt compelled to post back in 2014 because I didn't have anyone else to talk to and the people here said some really nice things to me. I can tell you from experience that it does get better with time, but your memory of her will never fade. Every now and then out of nowhere you will think about her. To some it might be a painful reminder but for me it's a nice reassurance that I will never forget about her. Stay strong my friend.
