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Chase_Corin

Distinguished member
Joined
Nov 24, 2010
Messages
135
Reason
Loved one DX
Diagnosis
11/2010
Country
CA
State
On
City
Perth, Ontario
When dad passed on October 31st, 2012 life changed for me and mom expanentially.

For over three years dad had depended on us for anything from helping him lift things at first to him being almost fully dependant on us for his daily upkeep.

Since dad passed we have been in a fog, working on all the paperwork for insurance and death benifits and things along with bank accounts and his will. Mom has depended on me a lot but it only seems that together we have one real functioning brain between us.

My brother has tried to help but he had to go back to work realy soon after dad's passing because he is freelance basically. He dosn't like coming to the house because the whole place reminds him of dad. I feel the same dad is ingrained in the woodwork here litterally because he was the person who made the cabinets and all the woodwork in the house.

We are trying to sell dad's truck because none of us can deal with driving it full time. However selling a truck in the middle of the winter is kinda hard.

Now it's just days before Christmas and I feel like heck. I have no motivation, no real feeling of wanting to do anything and I know everyone says 'its okay, it will come. Don't worry about this year, you've had too much on your minds'

Except you feel like its wrong not to want to participate in Christmas. Last Christmas Dad supervised me and my brother taking apart an old pressboard TV surround in order to suprise my mom with a new TV. And I went out and got presents for my mom and brother from dad and he was able to tell me exactly what he wanted them to get.

Before dad passed I told him of somthing mom saw in an antique shop that she really liked. After he passed I went to try to get it for her and it was gone. I feel like Christmas is going to be disapointing for her, for all of us.

I knew this would be hard but this feels like way too much

I have things that need to be finnished for gifts and I have absolutely no ambition to do any of it. On top of it we have some relatives that have invited themselves over next thursday. So all the cleaning and things we now have to do, I am just so overwhelmed. We still have to wrap up things from dad's death, its just neverending. Some days I want to just crawl back into bed and leave the world behind.
 
I am so very sorry for your loss. I don't have advice. I can only say there are others here who have lost love ones and I am sure they will have far better words of courage. I can only send prayers of hope and love for you and your family.
 
Oh Chase- I feel so badly for you and your Mom. Rattling around the house- memories all around. Feeling lost.

Grief is the big price we humans pay for loving and being loved. Please give yourself time- do what you want to do- when you want to do it. I'm not saying wallow for days on end- but you can't skip over the grief either, otherwise you will never recover from it fully.

You and your Mom have been devoted and selfless caregivers for a long time, likely stifling your own emotions and sacrificing greatly. It's time to put yourselves first. If that means un-inviting guests- so be it. But I do know that if you do "go through the motions" a little everyday- eventually life becomes real again. And you can then climb out of the limbo.

Your grief is your grief. It belongs to you and it will take the time it takes. You will survive this, if only because your Dad would want you to.

My thoughts and prayers are with you.
 
I am so very sorry for this loss in your family.

If it's alright, I'd like to share a story...

On the wall in my living room hangs a large painting that I bought at a local art show several years ago. It is a simple painting with rich, deep gold and burgundy oil colors that I enjoy. Just off center in this painting is a cozy, green arm chair that sits empty next to a side table on which rests an old phonograph player. To the left of the chair is a door that stands slightly open with light seeping into the simple room. I have never been able to figure out if the door is open because someone has just left, or if they left it ajar because they were coming right back.

It was the empty chair that drew me in when I first saw the painting on a rainy night so many years ago. I had never intended to buy a painting that evening, let alone one that takes two people to carry, but art has a way of finding you, not the other way around. I had, at the time, recently gone through the passing of my dear, beloved, mother-in-law. She was a lover of all things musical, a shining spirit full of many kind words, whimsical conversation and the affection one so often wishes for in family. The chair seemed custom made for her, next to the music she so loved.

It is years later now, and in the family farm home that we have come to live in that painting still hangs prominently on the wall. When all are asleep in my home, I sometimes sit in the living room at night and look at this painting and remember our times together. When my house is full of family and friends, food filling the tables and laughter spilling from room to room, I will often find myself looking, again, at this now familiar painting and remembering those gatherings of years ago.

For me, this empty chair was my way of making sure that no matter how crowded or busy schedules became in our lives, that the people who are no longer here like my mother-in-law, my own mother now, and more recently my grandmother, and father would always have a seat in our home, hearts and gatherings. There would always be this green chair, unoccupied, waiting for them. It became a ready reminder of each of them, and somehow serene and welcoming in the memories of us sitting together in other times, laughing, living, loving.

As Christmas approaches and I am the one to plan the meal, cook the turkey and coordinate the family guests, I especially miss these women of our family who came before me. In years gone by, at our simple farm house, it would be my grandmother and mother who led the way in preparing the family meal. Tables would fill the heated front porch and kitchen awaiting the collection of related and un-related family and friends that made our home their holiday tradition.

For several years now, I have found myself in the position of being the elder woman and matriarch in our family. The smiles and laughter and sheer competence in the kitchen of the women who have come before me and left too soon are deeply missed. Their wisdom for handling everything from the art of cooking egg noddles, to solving life’s ever-present challenges or simply lending a sympathetic ear is no longer close at hand. I miss them and the light they shone on this family so very, very much.

This week, as the home fills with younger generations of family for another Christmas, and I gaze uncertainly still at the old recipes cooking slowly in the oven, I know I will look at this chair on the wall amid a crowded room and remember again how blessed and thankful I am to have had these beautiful, caring and wise family members in my life. While they are gone now, at this home and hearth there will always be an empty seat and place for memories we have of them and how much they added to this blessed family.

I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Dad. I miss you Grandma. I miss you Mommo, so very much. You were people whose footsteps are both so hard and so very simple to follow. With whatever years I have to be the lady of this house, I only hope that I can impart some of what you each gave to me, to those who must be the keeper of the recipe box for warm food, warm hearts and warm remembrances in the future.

I am thankful for the time we all had. I am thankful for family. I am thankful for the blessings of having had these family members in our lives. Your seat in this home is forever secure, and your place at this table and in our hearts guides us still. And, no matter how hard I try, I will never get the hang of making your perfect pecan pie, Grandma. What you added could never fit on a recipe card.

This Christmas, Grandpa and I will set a table as best we can and remember them in our prayers before we all sit down together. Their memories are with us still. May God bless you and yours this Christmas. I find that all we can do someday's, when loss is so recent, is simply be thankful for those who fill the chairs around our table. So many are gone too soon.

Thank you for allowing me to share this story, and I hope that memories of your Dad can begin to help fill the empty chair and spaces the loss of loved ones, leaves behind. I'm so, so sorry.

May peace be with you.
 
Famdamily-

Yours is one of the most beautiful posts I've ever read. Thank you!

Merry Christmas to you and your family- angels and earthlings.
 
That was lovely. Truly lovely.
 
Elaine,

Bless you. I have so appreciated the words you share with so many on here. Thank you.
 
How beautiful Famdamily, it brung tears to my eyes and heart. Your story reminds me to be thankful for all I have. Many blessing on you and your family here and in heaven.
 
Oh Chase I feel for you and do understand, especially the no motivation for Christmas bit. Christmas has always been a massive big deal in our house and this year its all different.

Do you know all those people that say they "understand" - well I have told them that I cant be writing christmas cards this year and that I have reduced the amount of gifts that Im buying - they are all saying they understand - what else can they say? so I am not worrying about it too much.

Familiarity and memories in our house are a blessing on a good day and torture on a bad day.

You will get through it, it will be hard and it will be emtional, but get through it you will.

There are no time limits on grieving and its ok to find it a struggle - well thats what I tell myself.

Many are thinking of you x
 
Famdamily, that was one of the loveliest stories I have ever read... thank you. I had a friend help with baking this year as I cannot do it anymore, and had my husband get a Swedish elves candelabra out that my Grandpa made and painted... like your painting with the chair, it reminded me of special people and moments.

Chase, don't try to force it this year, it is a hard time of year to be so freshly grieving. Try to do something that your Dad would like and its ok to not want to host anyone. Tell them you'll meet them somewhere else if its easier. My Dad passed away on 9/19/99 and that first Christmas felt surreal...
 
I wish you all the love and joy and peace of the season.

Merry Christmas.
 
Fandamily...that is so beautiful .
 
it is a wonderfully exspressed and written, thank you
 
That was wonderful! I only take it one day at a time...
 
Chase I know exactly how you feel. I lost my husband on Nov 28,2012 less than a month before Christmas. I did not celebrate Christmas I just couldn't. I told everyone that I was not Christmas shopping or sending out cards. I wrote my kids checks so they could buy themselves what they wanted. We did not put up decorations or have turkey. Same as new years too. I know about all the paperwork and walking around in a fog of disbelief. They tell me I will have good days and bad days but so far it only feels like bad days.I don't sleep but am always tired and don't want to get out of bed. My husband was like your dad diagnosed in 11/2010. And as much as I knew this was going to be the end result I still didn't believe it was going to happen. My husband and I have been together since we were 17 years old and never did I think I would be a widow at 51. I don't know what to do with myself every day. I know I can't go back to work yet, working with the public right now is not an option. I don't want to go out and don't feel the least bit social. I try to keep myself busy around the house but then I end up crying as I feel so lonely without him.
 
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