The Loss of a Loved One

I have planned out this post for several weeks now, and it’s one I didn’t think I’d write. At first, I thought I would just pick up where I left off (many weeks ago). My next post was going to tackle perfectionism, which is a toughie for me, and probably, a toughie for you. But like all writers, writing about something, particularly something painful, helps you make sense of it, or at least, helps push the emotion out.

On August 10th, just three days shy of his 58th birthday, my father passed away. He spent the last two months in a hospital, over a month of which he spent on a ventilator, heavily sedated. The last time we exchanged a few words was June 27th.

Calling credit card companies to cancel your dad’s cards makes his death real. Going to the bank to hand in his death certificate makes it real. Burying his body makes it real. Writing about him passing is terrifying.

Some days, your body hurts so much you don’t think you’ll ever be able to breathe without it hurting. Other days, you think you’re OK, and you wonder what the big deal is all about. When the sun is out, you focus on your daily responsibilities and decreasing your to-do list. When the night sets in, you think about the future and not having him there.

You think about how every moment will be bittersweet. You think about how he won’t be there to walk you down the aisle. How he won’t take your hand for the father-daughter dance. How he won’t be there when your babies take their first breath. How he won’t grow old with your mom.

You think about the small things in the present. How quiet the house is. How he won’t come through the door anymore, exhausted from work, shopping bags in hand, with his eyes smiling wide – as always. How your mom has lost her dancing partner of 28 years. How you won’t hear him talk excitedly about Manchester United winning or how you won’t sit down with him to another meal. How life just isn’t as fun without him.

How he may be looking down on you from a better, beautiful place, but that doesn’t ease your pain…

When my grandmother, the matriarch of our small, tight-knit family, passed away from bone cancer three years ago, we were devastated. I would look at older ladies and get angry, thinking why an otherwise healthy, amazing woman – the kind who’d get down on the floor with you and play Barbies for hours, the kind who’d listen to you playing the violin, when you were clearly damaging ear drums, the kind who’d march to the store, carry loads of shopping bags by herself, even when she was at her sickest – had to get cancer and pass away when she was just 68.

I’ve already started doing the same thing whenever I see older men, smoking like chimneys, with beer guts. I think of my dad’s healthy (and big) heart, low blood pressure, lack of diabetes and daily workouts (which he refused to miss, regularly lamenting that he was too old to have a six-pack). I think of how he took pride in eating well and taking good care of himself. In fact, my blood just boiled after viewing a commercial for a smoking medication with a 70ish year old man discussing how he just quit his lifelong habit. When my dad passed away, his lungs looked like cheese. He hadn’t smoked one cigarette in his life.

Perhaps, I’m in the midst of a mishmash of devastation, denial and anger – though, I’ve mostly been residing in the denial phase. Part of that may be adaptive, because wrapping my mind around my dad passing probably isn’t something I can fully handle right now. I have a tough time looking at his pictures around the house. Sometimes, I stare at them for a long time; other times, I go out of my way not to look.

There are several stages of grief, but the phases aren’t clear-cut and there are various patterns. Like the stages, there’s no obvious, or right way to grieve. It’s a personal, painful, surreal process. You’re in a bubble; you feel like you’re walking in a haze, outside of yourself. Yes, it happening; it happened, and now you’re trying to figure out how life works, with a pivotal part of it gone.

My aunt always quotes Dr. Joy Brown, her psychological idol, who says that it takes at least a full year to heal, to go through birthdays, anniversaries, New Year’s and other holidays.

Below is some good advice on coping with the loss of a loved one, which is easier said than done now, but is certainly valuable.

A selection from Mayo Clinic:

* Be reassured. Remember that anniversary reactions are common and normal and that the pain fades as the years pass — although it may never go away completely.

* Prepare for episodes of grief. Knowing that you’re likely to experience anniversary reactions can help you understand them and even turn them into opportunities for healing.

* Reminisce about the relationship you had with the person who died. Try to focus on the good things about the relationship and the time you had together, rather than the loss.

* Plan a distraction. Take a weekend away or plan a visit with friends or relatives.

* Start a new tradition in your loved one’s memory. For example, make a donation to a charitable organization in the person’s name on birthdays or holidays, or plant a tree in honor of your loved one.

* Tune out. Limit your exposure to news reports about tragic events if you become more anxious, sad or distressed.

* Connect with others. Draw family members and friends close to you, rather than avoiding them. Find someone who encourages you to talk about your loss. Stay connected to your usual support systems, such as spiritual leaders and social groups. Consider joining a bereavement support group.

* Allow yourself to feel sadness and a sense of loss. But also allow yourself to experience joy and happiness as you celebrate special times. In fact, you might find yourself both laughing and crying.

From the American Cancer Society:

* Be patient with the process. Don’t pressure yourself with expectations. Accept that you need to experience your pain, your emotions, and your own way of healing — all in your own time. Don’t judge your emotions or compare yourself to others. Remember that no one else can tell you how you should mourn and when to stop.

* Express your feelings. Let yourself cry. Both are needed for healing.

* Get support. Talk about your loss, your memories, and your experience of the life and death of your loved one. Do not think you are protecting your family and friends by not expressing your sadness. Ask others for what you need. Find and talk to others who have lost a loved one.

* Try to maintain your normal lifestyle. Avoid major life changes (for example, moving, changing jobs, changing important relationships) within the first year of bereavement. This will allow you to keep your roots and some sense of security.

* Take care of yourself: eat well and exercise. Physical activity is a good way to release tension. Allow yourself small physical pleasures that help you renew yourself, like hot baths, naps, and favorite foods.

* When you feel ready, do something creative. Some options include:

- write a letter to the person who died to say everything you wish you could say to them
- start keeping a journal
- make a scrapbook
- paint pictures
- plant flowers or trees
- involve yourself in a cause or activity that the deceased loved