Dealing with loss and death

April said:
Her words have shaken a lot of us, so beautifully. She is truly special. I'm glad you can feel it too.
Click to expand...
Thank you for listening, relating, and sharing. Thank you for seeing me this way. Your kindness never ceases to move me. <3
 
Anomaly said:
Thank you for listening, relating, and sharing. Thank you for seeing me this way. Your kindness never ceases to move me. <3
Click to expand...
:m033::mcute:

I move you?

Omg. Tears.
To move someone by naturally being who I am, and by sharing what I naturally feel about someone. It's a dream come true for me. If it's true, and I really do move you by just being me, then I am so very happy we are friends. It's so fulfilling to me. Thank you, Lore. <3

Edit... I'm happy we are friends anyway. I'm just sayin, that kinda thing is something I crave because I just wanna be loved for who I am.

Edit 2... I apologize for my over-emotional state... things are bringing me to tears so easily right now at this point in my life lol. Some kind of turning point or something. But still, it does mean so much.
 
April said:
:m033::mcute:

I move you?

Omg. Tears.
To move someone by naturally being who I am, and by sharing what I naturally feel about someone. It's a dream come true for me. If it's true, and I really do move you by just being me, then I am so very happy we are friends. It's so fulfilling to me. Thank you, Lore. <3

Edit... I'm happy we are friends anyway. I'm just sayin, that kinda thing is something I crave because I just wanna be loved for who I am.

Edit 2... I apologize for my over-emotional state... things are bringing me to tears so easily right now at this point in my life lol. Some kind of turning point or something. But still, it does mean so much.
Click to expand...
No need to apologize for who you are, and for what you're learning about yourself. I'm happy that you feel good expressing yourself openly, as it should be.

I am grateful to be friends too. <3 Love you.
 
Anomaly said:
No need to apologize for who you are, and for what you're learning about yourself. I'm happy that you feel good expressing yourself openly, as it should be.

I am grateful to be friends too. <3 Love you.
Click to expand...
<3 Omg I go cry now. Love you too.
 
David54 said:
It broke my heart to read this...as if I as a nurse bear some responsibility. This is why when a loved one is hospitalized I become the starts worst nightmare. An RN constantly standing watch..
More than once I have prevented serious problems...ugh
But, I think you know that your father has probably already left the body he occupies. And you know, as I do, that this is a very temporary life. The Real existence is in the stars. There, we find each other as we truly are, and will love again in such a way as is not possible here.
Yet, I understand all too well the feelings of separation and loss.
I mourn daily for all he that are no longer here. Sometimes I can't breath when the weight of the reality hits me. Even now as i write this Debbie comes to mind and my heart stops and I wonder how life continues in a world without her..the band's permanently around my arm remind me of John, my parents, and I wonder how it is that I go on...alone.
Truly, I think of joining them, yet understand it is not my time for prerogative to leave just yet.
if I could, I would surround you with a hug, and hold you until the sorrow leaves
Click to expand...
Thank you greatly for the virtual hug. <3 I feel the love...
Yes. As you so beautifully say the Real Existence is in the stars. I know my father made the transition to the "other side" and he often cheers me on with terms of endearment he used to call me. I can feel him grinning over my right shoulder right now.
Still....having the knowing all of us continue on without a body does not negate our Human experience of Loss and grieving that loss.
I honor my Grief. I honor my human life experiences....whether they be of intense sorrow.....or the bliss of gratitude.
Talking about it is good.
Thank you all for listening.
Muah! Big hug for you David and your own grief for losing Debbie from your life.
 
It is a good threat @ExhumedMorrison. It would help our culture(s) to be more comfortable with this topic.

I want to give everyone in this thread a big hug.

I don't have the energy to open up about this here with the death of a close loved one so new. I've expressed myself in my blog in the past weeks and that seems like more than enough. I do appreciate this thread, though.


Bigs hearts to everyone.
 
I’ll share two.

I am the middle son of three boys (well, was). My younger brother Mike died. I can’t remember the year. I never can. Something like 1986 though I know it was December 20.

Mike had cerebral palsy. He couldn’t walk until he was something like seven years old. It was obvious from his gait that he had CP. Anyway, Mike was our baby brother and especially given his disability, my older brother Mark and I wanted so much for him. Like rooting extra for him.

Naturally, I always had a deep sensitivity with those who are different and I hated how others made fun of such people. Until sixth grade (and Mike was set back twice), Mike went to a special needs school. Man, some of the kids I saw. One time I saw a bunch of kids in a room. They all had hydrocephalus. That was hard to see. One of Mike’s friends, Dale Hefner, was so severely disabled with CP. He couldn’t do anything. His speech was also severely affected.

Anyway, Mike was living with our mom. Early Thanksgiving morning, I went to my mom’s to take her dogs for their annual big Thanksgiving run. Mom was already preparing. Before taking the dogs, we had small talk and mom said, “Mike won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” I was shocked.

Mike was doing some car maintenance and I went to him and tried to mildly coerce him to be with us for Thanksgiving. No, he and a couple of his friends were going hunting in Maine. Mike returned Sunday early in the evening and told mom he wasn’t feeling so good. Mom was going out but had a premonition. She asked him to call if he felt bad.

He called and shortly thereafter, was admitted to icu at the hospital in the town they lived, Milford, Massachusetts. He was already on a respirator. A week later, he was airlifted to UMass Medical in Worcester. A week after that, he was switched from respiratory to cardiology. His vitals bounced around. They would have improvement, but then they’d go south.

I remember one of the days, Mark and I were seeing Mike. We’re standing there and because of the respirator, he could only mouth words. Mike looked at us and mouthed, “Why me?”

We just looked at him and said, “I don’t know.” Heck, especially with his disability, why does Mike get dealt this?

Dad flew in from California. I believe it was a Friday and he sat us down at the hospital. Mike needs a heart transplant.

The next morning, I got a call from my mom. It was maybe 5:20 AM. “Mike died.” I think he was 26. Like I said, I can never remember the year. Viral pneumonia and it destroyed his heart.

I picked up Mark to take us to the hospital. When he let me in, we instinctively hugged each other and just bawled our eyes out.

I don’t believe I ever wanted for anyone more than I wanted for Mike.

I’d like to share a quick, neat story. I would guess I was 18 or so. We were playing a football game. Maybe 16 of us. Mike played too. On one play, he was thrown a pass. It was pretty long, maybe 20 yards. He caught it!!! EVERYBODY was jubilant. We were all back-slapping him. Both sides. It was so cool.

Oh, Mike’s last picture. He is seated at a table with two of his friends at the cabin in Maine. They are in a line. Mike is furthest to the right. Red overlays just Mike. The hue completely covers him. Weird.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max was my first dog. It was December 18, 1993, my then wife’s birthday. Max was a German Short-Haired Pointer. He was incredible! I adopted him when he was three. By this time, I had him for a year and eight months.

I took him for a walk. This particular walk was from my house. I had him on the leash until I crossed this one street that could have a bit of traffic. After crossing that, I would unleash him and we would progress along a field that led to a path with woods on each side. The path ended at a park. Invariably, when I was about half-way along the park, I would turn around and call Max and leash him as we would be coming upon that same street, albeit a bit further down.

I turned around and he wasn’t there. Then I noticed. Max had made it all the way through the park and was on the other side of Hecla Street (that street). That never happened before.

It must have been due to holiday traffic, but that damn street was pretty busy. Max did not know the command, “Stay!” I am watching him and just waiting for a chance to get to him. I still had a bit of a ways to go to get from the park to the street.

Max saw me. He started to walk toward me. The driver was just unwatchful. Heck, she was on the further lane from where Max crossed. And he wasn’t running.

She just barreled into him.

I rushed to Max and the poor guy was stuck under the car. It took a while, but I managed to get him out from under the car. Max looked at me! He was completely alert! I thought to myself, “Oh, thank God!”

Then I stood him up and set his back legs down. Nothing. They just collapsed.

The woman who hit him drove Max and I to the vet. X-ray, spinal cord severed. Good bye Max.

I buried him in the very cold back yard.

I was so distraught. One evening, I heard a noise. I actually thought God might have raised up Max. I called to him.

But no.

I let him down. Dammit, I let Max down. And I loved him so.
 
Last edited:
o2b said:
I’ll share two.

I am the middle son of three boys (well, was). My younger brother Mike died. I can’t remember the year. I never can. Something like 1986 though I know it was December 20.

Mike had cerebral palsy. He couldn’t walk until he was something like seven years old. It was obvious from his gait that he had CP. Anyway, Mike was our baby brother and especially given his disability, my older brother Mark and I wanted so much for him. Like rooting extra for him.

Naturally, I always had a deep sensitivity with those who are different and I hated how others made fun of such people. Until sixth grade (and Mike was set back twice), Mike went to a special needs school. Man, some of the kids I saw. One time I saw a bunch of kids in a room. They all had hydrocephalus. That was hard to see. One of Mike’s friends, Dale Hefner, was so severely disabled with CP. He couldn’t do anything. His speech was also severely affected.

Anyway, Mike was living with our mom. Early Thanksgiving morning, I went to my mom’s to take her dogs for their annual big Thanksgiving run. Mom was already preparing. Before taking the dogs, we had small talk and mom said, “Mike won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” I was shocked.

Mike was doing some car maintenance and I went to him and tried to mildly coerce him to be with us for Thanksgiving. No, he and a couple of his friends were going hunting in Maine. Mike returned Sunday early in the evening and told mom he wasn’t feeling so good. Mom was going out but had a premonition. She asked him to call if he felt bad.

He called and shortly thereafter, was admitted to icu at the hospital in the town they lived, Milford, Massachusetts. He was already on a respirator. A week later, he was airlifted to UMass Medical in Worcester. A week after that, he was switched from respiratory to cardiology. His vitals bounced around. They would have improvement, but then they’d go south.

I remember one of the days, Mark and I were seeing Mike. We’re standing there and because of the respirator, he could only mouth words. Mike looked at us and mouthed, “Why me?”

We just looked at him and said, “I don’t know.” Heck, especially with his disability, why does Mike get dealt this?

Dad flew in from California. I believe it was a Friday and he sat us down at the hospital. Mike needs a heart transplant.

The next morning, I got a call from my mom. It was maybe 5:20 AM. “Mike died.” I think he was 26. Like I said, I can never remember the year. Viral pneumonia and it destroyed his heart.

I picked up Mark to take us to the hospital. When he let me in, we instinctively hugged each other and just bawled our eyes out.

I don’t believe I ever wanted for anyone more than I wanted for Mike.

I’d like to share a quick, neat story. I would guess I was a 18 or so. We were playing a football game. Maybe 16 of us. Mike played too. On one play, he was thrown a pass. It was pretty long, maybe 20 yards. He caught it!!! EVERYBODY was jubilant. We were all back-slapping him. Both sides. It was so cool.

Oh, Mike’s last picture. He is seated at a table with two of his friends at the cabin in Maine. They are in a line. Mike is furthest to the right. Red overlays just Mike. The hue completely covers him. Weird.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max was my first dog. It was December 18, 1993, my then wife’s birthday. Max was a German Short-Haired Pointer. He was incredible! I adopted him when he was three. By this time, I had him for a year and eight months.

I took him for a walk. This particular walk was from my house. I had him on the leash until I crossed this one street that could have a bit of traffic. After crossing that, I would unleash him and we would progress along a field that led to a path with woods on each side. The path ended at a park. Invariable, when I was about half-way along the park, I would turn around and call Max and leash him as we would be coming upon that same street, albeit a bit further down.

I turned around and he wasn’t there. Then I noticed. Max had made it all the way through the park and was on the other side of Hecla Street (that street). That never happened before.

It must have been due to holiday travel, but that damn street was pretty busy. Max did not know the command, “Stay!” I am watching him and just waiting for a chance to get to him. I still had a bit of a ways to go to get from the park to the street.

Max saw me. He started to walk toward me. The driver was just unwatchful. Heck, she was on the further lane from where Max crossed. And he wasn’t running.

She just barreled into him.

I rushed to Max and the poor guy was stuck under the car. It took a while, but I managed to get him out from under the car. Max looked at me! He was completely alert! I thought to myself, “Oh, thank God!”

Then I stood him up and set his back legs down. Nothing. They just collapsed.

The woman who hit him drove Max and I to the vet. X-ray, spinal cord severed. Good bye Max.

I buried him in the very cold back yard.

I was so distraught. One evening, I heard a noise. I actually thought God might have raised up Max. I called to him.

But no.

I let him down. Dammit, I let Max down. And I loved him so.
Click to expand...
Oh God, Tony I'm so sorry. Sending you warm hugs and love. <3

I know that guilt from letting a pet down. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. We are responsible for them and they trust us to look after them... and sometimes when we fail, the worst happens. I am so sorry.
About your brother, thank you for sharing all that. I can feel the love in your post. Mike was loved. This much is true. It warms my heart to see you honor him this way.
 
o2b said:
I’ll share two.

I am the middle son of three boys (well, was). My younger brother Mike died. I can’t remember the year. I never can. Something like 1986 though I know it was December 20.

Mike had cerebral palsy. He couldn’t walk until he was something like seven years old. It was obvious from his gait that he had CP. Anyway, Mike was our baby brother and especially given his disability, my older brother Mark and I wanted so much for him. Like rooting extra for him.

Naturally, I always had a deep sensitivity with those who are different and I hated how others made fun of such people. Until sixth grade (and Mike was set back twice), Mike went to a special needs school. Man, some of the kids I saw. One time I saw a bunch of kids in a room. They all had hydrocephalus. That was hard to see. One of Mike’s friends, Dale Hefner, was so severely disabled with CP. He couldn’t do anything. His speech was also severely affected.

Anyway, Mike was living with our mom. Early Thanksgiving morning, I went to my mom’s to take her dogs for their annual big Thanksgiving run. Mom was already preparing. Before taking the dogs, we had small talk and mom said, “Mike won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” I was shocked.

Mike was doing some car maintenance and I went to him and tried to mildly coerce him to be with us for Thanksgiving. No, he and a couple of his friends were going hunting in Maine. Mike returned Sunday early in the evening and told mom he wasn’t feeling so good. Mom was going out but had a premonition. She asked him to call if he felt bad.

He called and shortly thereafter, was admitted to icu at the hospital in the town they lived, Milford, Massachusetts. He was already on a respirator. A week later, he was airlifted to UMass Medical in Worcester. A week after that, he was switched from respiratory to cardiology. His vitals bounced around. They would have improvement, but then they’d go south.

I remember one of the days, Mark and I were seeing Mike. We’re standing there and because of the respirator, he could only mouth words. Mike looked at us and mouthed, “Why me?”

We just looked at him and said, “I don’t know.” Heck, especially with his disability, why does Mike get dealt this?

Dad flew in from California. I believe it was a Friday and he sat us down at the hospital. Mike needs a heart transplant.

The next morning, I got a call from my mom. It was maybe 5:20 AM. “Mike died.” I think he was 26. Like I said, I can never remember the year. Viral pneumonia and it destroyed his heart.

I picked up Mark to take us to the hospital. When he let me in, we instinctively hugged each other and just bawled our eyes out.

I don’t believe I ever wanted for anyone more than I wanted for Mike.

I’d like to share a quick, neat story. I would guess I was a 18 or so. We were playing a football game. Maybe 16 of us. Mike played too. On one play, he was thrown a pass. It was pretty long, maybe 20 yards. He caught it!!! EVERYBODY was jubilant. We were all back-slapping him. Both sides. It was so cool.

Oh, Mike’s last picture. He is seated at a table with two of his friends at the cabin in Maine. They are in a line. Mike is furthest to the right. Red overlays just Mike. The hue completely covers him. Weird.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max was my first dog. It was December 18, 1993, my then wife’s birthday. Max was a German Short-Haired Pointer. He was incredible! I adopted him when he was three. By this time, I had him for a year and eight months.

I took him for a walk. This particular walk was from my house. I had him on the leash until I crossed this one street that could have a bit of traffic. After crossing that, I would unleash him and we would progress along a field that led to a path with woods on each side. The path ended at a park. Invariable, when I was about half-way along the park, I would turn around and call Max and leash him as we would be coming upon that same street, albeit a bit further down.

I turned around and he wasn’t there. Then I noticed. Max had made it all the way through the park and was on the other side of Hecla Street (that street). That never happened before.

It must have been due to holiday travel, but that damn street was pretty busy. Max did not know the command, “Stay!” I am watching him and just waiting for a chance to get to him. I still had a bit of a ways to go to get from the park to the street.

Max saw me. He started to walk toward me. The driver was just unwatchful. Heck, she was on the further lane from where Max crossed. And he wasn’t running.

She just barreled into him.

I rushed to Max and the poor guy was stuck under the car. It took a while, but I managed to get him out from under the car. Max looked at me! He was completely alert! I thought to myself, “Oh, thank God!”

Then I stood him up and set his back legs down. Nothing. They just collapsed.

The woman who hit him drove Max and I to the vet. X-ray, spinal cord severed. Good bye Max.

I buried him in the very cold back yard.

I was so distraught. One evening, I heard a noise. I actually thought God might have raised up Max. I called to him.

But no.

I let him down. Dammit, I let Max down. And I loved him so.
Click to expand...
Tony, the pain in your words has me in tears. The love you have for Mike is beautiful; thank you for sharing about him. You have such a generous heart. I imagine that Mike was especially fond of you. Reading your words, I think he would be ever so proud to have you for a brother.

The loss of a furchild is devastating. I'm so sorry that you witnessed Max getting injured. You were doing what you thought was right, and had done with him before. We cannot always predict what animals will do, and often they do things contrary to what has been the norm. I understand why you feel guilt about it, but I can't help but think that Max was well-loved by you and taken care of as family. You did right by him in other ways. Knowing how much you love Sandy, is only a testament to that, in my opinion. Forgive yourself, kind soul.

Love and light to you today and always. (Hugs)
 
@Anomaly,

{tears}{hugs}

I knew writing that post would foster a lot of emotion.

Yeah, I know in my heart there was no malice involved (of course). Just something outside my awareness. I took him for that walk every day. That was the only time he was ahead of me. There was an unfortunate convergence of a few things (my inattentiveness, unusual holiday traffic, Max being ahead of me, inattentive driver).

I'll see him again. I'll introduce Sandy to him!
 
aeon said:
@PintoBean

I am so sorry to hear this. Sorry for you, because family caregiving is a thankless and exhausting job. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and otherwise.

Some caregivers are forever changed, and in a way I wouldn’t want to see in anyone.

You take care, PintoBean. Don’t lose yourself, and don’t be consumed by it.

Best to You,
Ian
Click to expand...
Thanks @aeon. I appreciate it. A lot of people don't understand the loss of self in family caregiving. I got really bogged down in it for while, but now essentially have people hired for most things. I have shed most of the guilt associated with it, but the whole thing makes me sad.
 
No one feel pressure love. We all do it in our own time. Fear can cause us to make severely poor decisions out of these traumatizing experiences, whether it be to avoid it as if it isn’t there because it hurts that deeply, or to compensate completely. Please, take it easy on yourself everyone. Loosing loved ones whether it be to natural causes or the things that we feel we could’ve stopped can be difficult. Heard the journey to healing can be even more irreparable when personal integrity feels damaged.
@o2b its lovely to know you’ve found self forgiveness and patience through Christ in these two differing concepts and wish everyone the best of healing.
 
Me? Short and sweet: close the doors and windows, leave work behind, stop answering phone, avoid talking with others, seek solitude, and everything else I feel I must do to deal with it.
There are so many possibilities out there, and each loss must be dealt with differently. Try to learn all over again how to forgive and control my thoughts. Glad they are not suffering any longer, if they were suffering.

Next, I must fill this empty hole in my stomach.

If it was a cowardly attack on Peacekeepers like Beirut, I do not rest until they are gone. Sorry, but some hits make my day.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top