 January 15, 2000: It's been one year since my dad died. My heart still aches for him. The pain never goes away but it does get easier to bear. To My Dad! Grief is a very personal thing. I wrote a research paper on grief while in graduate school and thought I had a pretty good understanding of it. However, when my dad died, I found out differently. These are my thoughts and my story. I am writing this journal to help me work through my own grief. I have provided links to grief sites on the Internet that I've found helpful. I hope reading my story will be helpful to others who are in a similar situation. Grief is an emotional response to loss. People handle grief in many different ways. Unresolved grief can lead to mental and physical complications. I started grieving before my dad died, which is normal for the family member of someone who is terminally ill. My dad had two leaking valves in his heart. We knew four years ago that his time was short but he had such a positive attitude that I never believed it until December 12, 1998. That evening about 11 p.m., he was sick on his stomach with what we thought were digestive problems. My mom and I took him to the Emergency Room. After tests, he was admitted to the heart unit. Reality was still in the future. My dad got worse on December 17 and the doctor told him and us just how serious his condition was. He insisted on talking with my mom, me, and several of his nieces and nephews about his funeral. His words to us were "No more tears!" He made most of his funeral plans that day. What an emotional roller coaster that was. Later that evening, when his blood pressure dropped really low, they moved him to Critical Care Unit. That's when I had a reality check and began the grieving process. The medications worked, and he was listed as critical but stable. The next few days were pressure-filled. I remember sitting in the waiting room while the hospital volunteers put up Christmas decorations. I kept thinking that it couldn't be Christmas. My decorations were up at home and around the neighborhood but my house remained dark. The hours we had to visit with my dad while he was in CCU were precious. We'd count the minutes until we could be with him. People in the CCU waiting room became like family. You waited to see how their loved one was, and they ask about yours. I remember holding my breath and praying that no one would die because that might mean my dad could die, too. During CCU visiting hours, I would read to my dad the copies of email messages from around the world that my Internet friends had sent wishing him well. That was always a special time with him and I'm grateful to those people for taking the time to express their good wishes to me and my family. The Internet is an exceptional community. On December 20, my dad was stable enough to return to the heart unit. My mom and I were thrilled. We thought we had weathered another storm, and that my dad had fooled the doctors. We were in denial but my dad knew. He was very weak and could not walk. He ate very little. The doctor ordered physical therapy hoping to get him on his feet again. My mom and I planned to spend Christmas Eve and Day at the hospital. On December 24, we were told we could bring him home. I couldn't believe it...he couldn't even walk! That whole day is a blur for me. I remember doing all the right things but it was like someone else was doing it all. The doctor talked with me that day about hospice. He told me that my dad probably had six months to live at the most. I didn't believe him. My dad always said that he planned to live to be 91 years old. He was only 77. We brought him home by ambulance. It was sleeting and freezing rain. I came early and my neighbor helped move furniture to make room for the hospital bed. When the ambulance arrived, I was standing at the door. My dad saw me and waved. He was home for Christmas - his last. I decided then that this would be the best Christmas ever. My mom was very distraught and just wanted us all to be alone. I told her that wouldn't be possible. This would NOT be a house of death. My cousin, her husband, and my aunt came Christmas Eve evening and brought dinner and we exchanged gifts. We moved the celebration into my dad's room because he was too weak to join us in the living room. He sat in his new glider rocking chair that my aunt, her children, and grandchildren had bought him for Christmas. We all tried to be happy but the spirit just wasn't there. It was the first Christmas Eve that I can remember that no pictures were taken. Christmas Day brought lots of family, friends and presents. It also brought another token of friendship. A friend loaned us a wheelchair so we could get my dad to the living room to enjoy the Christmas tree. It was decorated with the clear white lights and red bows. He had sat in the living room the night my mom and I decorated it. He said "put lots of red bows on it!" December 26 was another difficult day. My dad didn't sleep well Christmas Day night. My aunt and her daughter and family came from Roanoke to visit. My mom woke up that morning feeling bad. I sent her to a walk-in clinic. The clinic called about 2 p.m. and said my mom had the flu and was unable to drive home. Her cousin, who was visiting, volunteered to go get her. When they arrived home, I put my mom in a separate bedroom from my dad and closed the door. I now had two patients and never felt as desolated in my life. I cried when my aunt and cousins left. There was no one but me. My whole world had crumbled in front of me and I didn't know where to go for comfort. Little did I realize that it would get worse. I moved into the room to be near my dad. He did not sleep at all that night. I was exhausted mentally and physically. My mom's cousin and my aunt came on Sunday so I could get a couple hours of sleep. I don't know how I survived except by the grace of God. I remember feeling so hopeless and helpless. The days were good for my dad and he had lots of company. We enjoyed the time together. He stayed awake all that night, too, and for the next few nights. He promised me he'd sleep but couldn't. I remember one night he talked and talked. He told me a story about my mom. She has cried many times since I shared it with her. My dad loved God and he would sing. One night he broke into song, "Thank You, Lord, for Saving My Soul" and I joined right in. It was a special blessing. I would read to him from the Bible every day. His favorite reading was the 23rd Psalm. He would recite it as I read. My mom improved and could sit with my dad during the day. This allowed me time to get some chores done around the house. It also allowed me a few minutes on the computer, which was a great stress reliever for me. I had taken the week off after Christmas and I worried about how my mom would manage after I returned to work. My aunt agreed to stay with my dad one night so I could get a full night's rest. A friend took me to lunch so I'd get out of the house for a couple of hours. People were offering to help and all I had to do was ask, but I needed to be with him. My dad had several crises while he was home. The first came Christmas Eve night about 10:30 p.m. It was snowing when I called the home health nurse, who came within a few minutes. Commonwealth Home Health Nurses were indeed angels. I would never had managed without them. The second crisis occurred December 29. His lungs began filling with fluid and he required an IV lasix. The home health nurse told me I couldn't keep going at the pace I was going. She mentioned Hospice and a Nursing Home. My mom wasn't able to discuss either with me. I hated the thought of my dad being in a nursing home. At times I felt like I was alone. My mom and I have always been able to talk but this time we were both hurting too badly. The words wouldn't come. I found solace from my best friend and cousin who kept my spirits up during that time. My mom was able to stay in the room with him at night for the first time on New Year's Eve. He slept all night long and we thought he'd just missed my mom. It was the first New Year's Eve in years that we didn't sit up to see the new year in. We were just too exhausted. He wanted out of the hospital bed and into his regular bed. We helped him get there. He had a good day on New Year's Day. I actually began to feel quite hopeful. That night was a different story, and we had another crisis on January 2. My dad told us he was dying. He'd seen the angels. He asked us to get in touch with his niece and ask her to bring his 82 year old sister to the house so he could say good-bye. While family gathered near us, it started to snow and sleet. I know that the entire time the family was there, they were constantly doing things but it's all too difficult for me to even remember any of it. I was totally focused on my dad. Two of my cousins spent the night as we didn't know what the night would hold. The home health nurse got approval to increase his oxygen level from two liters to six. He improved by morning. Another cousin had agreed to spend the night on January 3 so my mom and I could get a good night's rest. I was returning to work the next day. My mom was still sick but struggling to stay on her feet. At one a.m. on January 4, my cousin woke my mom, who woke me. My dad was having chest pains and shortness of breath. I called the Life Saving Crew. When they arrived, they made the decision to transport him. After several really difficult hours, the doctor admitted my dad. Little did I know that would be his last journey. His lungs were again filling with fluid and the IV lasix was increased. The next couple of weeks were the hardest of my life. My dad was able to stay alone at night in the beginning. On January 7, my mom and I decided we would no longer leave him alone. He talked a lot about dying. My mom and I soon became ships that passed in the night. I would leave work, go to the hospital. She would go home for a few hours and return so I could go home to rest for the next day at work. My life during this time was a blur. The only thing that kept me going was my love for my dad and a special cat that belonged to my neighbor that I called, Tinkerbelle. 'Belle kept me company when I got home at night. I kept a journal of my thoughts while my dad was in the hospital. Right now, they are too painful to share. It helped putting my thoughts on paper. I wrote it in letter form to my friend and cyberniece, Kate. I felt her presence so strongly while I was writing that it was almost like I was talking to her. I would strongly recommend this to anyone who is in a similar situation. Writing to someone who cares really helps regardless of whether or not they ever read it. I don't know how my mom found the strength to do all that she did during those two weeks. She stayed at the hospital 16 to 18 hours each day and managed to get by on 3-4 hours of sleep. We both agreed that my dad was important and the time spent with him was precious. We also admitted to ourselves that time was slipping away. Each day, I'd tell him about my day and read to him from the Bible, ending with the 23rd Psalm. I was lucky that my employer was so supportive during that time. It meant so much to know that he cared about how my dad was feeling and how my mom and I were doing. January 14 is a day I'll never forget. I had convinced my mom that she needed to rest. She stayed at the hospital all night. My aunt arrived that morning about 9:30 to stay with my dad until 2:30. Two of my neighbors came at 2:30 and stayed until I arrived shortly after 5 p.m. I had arranged for two other neighbors to stay the next day. I thought we'd finally gotten into a pattern. I knew that I could spend the night on Friday and Saturday nights and my mom could rest and just stay during the day. Enroute to the hospital that evening, I felt a strange peace. When I got to my dad's room, I sensed that something was different. After my neighbors left, my dad began telling me that he was in pain. I realized this pain was not the usual pain and rang for the nurse. A friend came for a visit, saw the situation and stayed with me. I call Edna my angel because God sent her at just the right moment. When I finally got a nurse to come check him, she realized that something was wrong. Before long, they had a blood pressure cuff on him and had given him medication to ease the pain. I called my mom back to the hospital early. I knew the end was near. The nurse told me he was "very critical." My mom arrived and I told her what was happening. She cried, then composed herself and asked that I call in the family. As soon as they were called, family began to gather. I remember the scene as each family member went in to see him one last time. One of the hardest things I had to do that night was to tell my aunt that he was worse. She is 82 years old and her daughter didn't think she should know the whole story that night. I "smoothed" it over for my aunt while the whole time I was crying. I think she knew. About 1:00 a.m. most of the family left. Five of us remained with my dad. I don't think he was conscious after 10:30 p.m. We watched his breathing and every blood pressure reading. The nurse brought in a different blood pressure machine. As he was unable to push the morphine drip himself, we pushed it for him every 15 minutes. I remember these last scenes so vividly. I was sitting on the other bed to my dad's left. Two of my cousins were in chairs behind me. My mom was in a chair on my dad's right and my aunt behind her. The blood pressure dropped really low and then didn't register. The nurse tried to get a pressure manually just as we watched my dad take his last breath. There was no struggle; he just stopped breathing. Even then, I didn't believe it was over. I looked to my cousin, who is an RN for confirmation and saw her reaching for me. I knew, then, it was true. My dad died at 3:11 a.m. on January 15, 1999. I felt like the breath had been sucked from my body, too. My cousin began making phone calls. The nurse allowed us some time alone with my dad. We left the hospital about 4:30 a.m. It was a very long ride home. When we arrived home, more friends came. I saw the sunrise for the first time without my dad being alive. I felt stunned, helpless, and hopeless. The center of my world was gone. I was out of balance. Somehow or other, I found the strength to make calls to other family and friends. My best friend and cousin, Wanda (the RN) never left my side. The funeral home called at 7:30 a.m. and said they'd be over about 9 a.m. and would like us at the funeral home at 10 a.m. to make arrangements. I kept thinking to myself...."this can't be happening." I felt like I was in a daze for the next few days. Lots of people came, arrangements had to be made, my mom was in shock and couldn't help me. My dad had requested that two of his nephews conduct his funeral so that part was made easier. I met with them and they were able to help me a lot with arrangements. My dad had also chosen his pallbearers so it was simply a matter of asking them. What I thought would be the hardest thing for us to do was to pick out the casket. That was much easier than I had anticipated. I knew immediately which one I wanted for my dad and my mom agreed. The funeral was scheduled for Sunday, January 17 at 2 p.m. Sunday was my dad's favorite day of the week. The weather was beautiful for this part of the country. While saying good-bye to my dad was difficult, his funeral was easy to plan. He had lived a good life. His relatives came from all over and the chapel was overflowing with family and friends. The funeral itself was standing room only. The funeral director paused the car at the entrance to the cemetery so we could look back and see the cars in line. We couldn't see the end of the line. My dad had many pretty flowers. Leaving the cemetery was very difficult though. I think my mom and I both had a reality check on Monday after the funeral. What do we do now? Where do we go from here? And how do we survive without him? These were all questions that neither of us had answers to; and to compound all this, it was raining. I told my mom and God had given us beautiful weather and now He was crying with us. We had to set about the task of tying up loose ends and start a life without my dad. Neither of us were prepared to do this. With each change that we made - the utilities, the telephone, car title transfers - I felt like I was erasing a part of my dad. I didn't want to see people happy or smiling. I wanted to shout at them that my world had crumbled and ask how anyone could be happy. I knew that life had to go on, but I didn't want it to. If you would like to read more about the first six months of my story of grief, click here.
Tips for Talking with Someone Who is Experiencing Loss
Links to Grief Sites on the Web
Tom Golden, LCSW
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