6 Reasons a Parent's Death Is a Special Kind of Loss By Paula Spencer

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The death of a mother or father can strike an adult child unexpectedly hard. Parent death brings a unique kind of grieving, whether you've been a hands-on caregiver and helper at the end of life or your parent has been living independently and well. The break in the parent-child bond can reverberate for the rest of your life.
Here are six factors that grief experts say can shape grieving over a parent's death:
1. Our parents are our "wisdom keepers." "We spend a lifetime looking to our parents for answers," says psychotherapist Sherry E. Showalter, author of Healing Heartaches: Stories of Loss and Life. They're the repositories of knowledge about our history, our upbringing, family traditions, the names of all those faces in old photos. With their passing so, too, goes the information and insight that hasn't already been transmitted or recorded.
2. Unresolved issues often follow the parent-child relationship into adulthood. The balance of the parent-child relationship shifts several times, first as we gain maturity and create our own families, and then as parents grow older and often need our support. These realities bring plenty of opportunities for misunderstanding or discord. And not all these bumps are smoothed out by the end. Differences that go unreconciled can leave a forlorn sense of unfinished business, Showalter says.
3. Parent death always feels sudden -- even when it's not. People often expect that the death of someone older or someone who's been ill for a long time will feel easier to endure because it's predictable. Yet the disappearance from your life of a figure you've known since birth is, when it finally happens, always a sudden change.
4. Decisions about rituals are up to you. "Suddenly you're the adult preparing the funeral, the viewing, the obituary, the eulogy -- there's nobody older to tell you how to manage, no one to correct you or say, 'No, that's not how you do it!'" says one woman in her 40s who lost both parents within two years. "I felt pushed to a different level of adulthood."
5. Your children lose grandparents. Many people who lose their parents talk about "grieving for what won't ever be" -- being unable to ask their parents for parenting advice, for example, or having their parents attend their children's birthday parties, graduations, and weddings. Parents may also need to help their children mourn, or they may feel a need to preserve the grandparents' legacy for their children.
6. Losing the "buffer generation" forces us to reexamine our own mortality. When a grandparent dies, there's still a whole generation between you and death. With a parent's death, your own eventual demise may feel uncomfortably nearer.

http://www.caring.com/articles/death-of-a-parent

Ways to release the pain of losing a loved one. by Annette Gonzalez

Sunday, November 8, 2009

When I tell people I am writing and speaking about the death of my parents, they say “how brave of you” or “you have such courage to dig down into those feelings of grief”. I don’t see myself as being brave or courageous. I had to do something to honor their memory, fill the hole in my heart, and help others who feel or have felt the same kind of grief.
I did not know that writing and/or speaking about my feelings would be such a wonderful outlet for the great depth of pain I was feeling. I grieved and still grieve over the loss of my parents. Writing about my parents when they were ill and dying and about my grief after their deaths has been therapeutic. Every time I have a memory, I write about it and immediately I experience a release from my pain. When I speak about my parents it keeps their memory alive.
I encourage anyone who has experienced the death of a loved one to journal your feelings, speak about your feelings to family or friends, and remember your loved one in some special way
http://orphanat60.blogspot.com

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That First Month of Grief–What is Shock? How to Get Through After Your Loved One Dies

By Carol O'Dell

October 3, 2008 

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The first month after your loved one dies is perhaps one of the scariest,

most dreaded times in a person’s life.

Losing a spouse, a parent, a child is devastating. But somehow, you will get through. I know you don’t think you will. But there’s this little thing called breathing. Your body does it whether you want it to or not. Your heart can be breaking, your gut wrenched, and you can feel as if you will truly lose your mind–and your body will continue to take its next breath. There will be times when you don’t want to breathe. You don’t want to live–the pain is so intense. Just let your body get your through for now. It’s a divine design–to keep our heart and lungs on automatic. I’m sure I would have either forgotten or opted not to breathe, not to allow my heart to pump if I had any say in the matter. But this sheer involuntary response is the only way to go on during those early days of grief. Death comes in many forms–by way of an accident, or after a long agonizing illness–it’s never easy. Even when you’ve been caregiving for years and you know your loved one is no longer suffering, almost everyone has a difficult time letting go. Why? Why is it so difficult to watch death take those we love–even after pain and suffering, and even old age? I believe because there’s something in us that deeply believes in the eternal. Our brains do not compute that life is simply cut off. I’m not basing this on any particular religion or theology–I’m basing this on biology–we cannot comprehend that someone we know and love was here yesterday–and is not here today. Those who look at this purely scientific would say that it’s mere habit–but something in me feels that it’s more. Why, after practicing a lifetime of faith, and believing with all our hearts that we will see our loved one again–is it still so hard to stand next to their lifeless, breathless body and kiss them goodbye? The same reason a toddler cries for his/her mother. We don’t like separation. And those early days of separation are very, very difficult. What’s it like? That first month? Experiencing a death of someone we love–at any age, and for any reason, usually means that we go into shock. Not only have I experienced the death of several loved ones, like you, I have many family and friends who have also experience grief and loss. By looking at these first few days and weeks, we can begin to see a pattern–in ourselves and others. It’s less scary to know that we’re not alone, and that our bizarre thoughts and actions are something others experience as well. What is shock? It’s our body’s response to trauma or pain. Physically, speaking, shock is when the body isn’t getting enough oxygen. It can occur after an injury when the body shuts down (the blood stays close to the heart to preserve life at its core level–or it can occur after a severe emotional trauma. WebMD desribes shock as this:

1. A sudden physical or biochemical disturbance that results in inadequate blood flow and oxygenation of an animal’s vital organs.
2. A state of profound mental and physical depression consequent to severe physical injury or to emotional disturbance.

If you’ve ever experienced shock (yourself or by witnessing it in another person), one of its prime characteristics is that you’re probably not reacting to pain (physically or emotionally) as you would expect. Car accident victims can walk around with a head wound or internal injury–and only after minutes or even hours does the body “compute” the damage and begin to react. This may give the person time to rescue a child or get out of a fire. Emotional trauma shock can present with similar symptoms–the person may talk or act rather normal, even when you would expect them to cry or scream or fall apart. They might eventually do all those things–but it may be weeks or months later. The mind has the ability to stay “in shock” much longer than the body–and it will usually only allow the person to really feel and experience the deepest levels of grief when it’s safe. The movie, Reign Over Me is a great example of emotional shock. Adam Sandlerplays a man who lost his wife and children during 9/11. He spends years in “shock,” and the exploration of how this man deals with grief in an unconventional way–and the arguments that the social and mental health community make to try to “fix” him, is interesting. Every person’s journey with grief and loss is different. Honor yours. Trust your gut, your shock will get you through. During the first month you might: (no two people are the same)

• Be able to plan an elaborate funeral or memorial service
• Hold yourself together–be courteous, thoughtful and polite
• Look healthy and strong
• Go back to work days or weeks after your loved one passes
• Feel euphoric–an urgency to get on with life
• Plan a trip, go shopping, or other ordinary things
• Go off with friends and do things you haven’t been able to do in a long time

But…if you observe grief and shock a little closer, you’ll notice things aren’t quite what they appear on the surface. You might also:

• Feel high strung, nervous, agitated
• Can’t pay attention, get bored or antsy with people
• Suffer from insomnia
• Have a panic or anxiety attack when you’re out in public
• Zone out and not remember where you are
• Feel guilty and think you caused your loved one to die (by taking them to the hospital, or not taking them, or a myriad of other decisions you had to make)
• Forget things–your keys locked in the car, your wallet at the gas station
• Avoid falling apart or crying because you may feel like once you start, you won’t be able to stop
• Have nightmares, even scary dreams of your loved one coming back alive–but not alive
• Become obsessed with something–putting your affairs in order, doing something your loved one nagged you about but you put off–but now you’re doing it to excess
• Do something, anything to feel alive–gamble, go to Vegas, visit online chat rooms, shop too much, eat too much
• You may start to snap at people–or cling–can’t let yourself be alone
• Your emotional pendulum keeps swinging wider and wider

Practical Things You Typically Do The First Month:

• File for and receive the death certificate (that’s tough)
• Contact your life insurance
• Decide when or if to go back to work
• Comfort others around you–children, friends, even when you don’t feel like it
• Cancel credit cards and put your house or car in your name only
• Pay the bills associated with your loved one’s passing–funeral expenses, etc.
• Decide to buy or sell certain items
• Figure out how to pay the bills or deal with repairs–whatever your spouse/loved one did that you now must do
• Catch up with your lfe–if your loved one was ill, there may be many things that need your attention now
• Write thank you notes and figure out how to handle your relationships with this new change

Emotionally You’ll Have To:

• Make calls and let businesses know your loved one has passed
• Talk to many family and friends–and some of them will be awkward and say the “wrong” thing
• Walk back in your house, your bedroom, drive his car–feel his/her presence and be faced with your loss
• Sleep in the bed he’s/she’s no longer in
• Deal with clothes, cars and other personal items–even if you don’t start sorting and deciding what you keep, they are with you–in your house and your life
• Allow your brain and heart to assimilate that your loved one’s not here for you to call–to talk to
• Wake up and think he’s/she’s still there
• Feel alone and lost even when you’re busy
• Figure out who you are now and what to do with your time and energy
• Think about that “first” that is to come–first birthday without him, holiday without her–and make a plan
• Literally survive the best you can

For most people, the first month is a blur. At times, you’re in bone crushing grief alternting with an odd euphoric gotta-get-out feeling. You can bite someone’s head off or not even care if the shoes on your feet were on fire. There’s a lot to do, and that list of wrapping things up and starting anew at least keeps your keep moving. The good news is: you probably won’t remember most of this. Shock does a whammy on the brain. You may feel like you’ve put your skin on inside out–and your nerve endings are exploding–but later, there will be many things you can’t recall. Your body is protecting you. Let it. J As crazy, lost, alone, scattered, numb, and frantic as you feel in those first months, know that as hard as it is to believe, it won’t last forever. Just breathe. http://caroldodell.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/that-first-month-of-grief-what-is-shock-how-to-get-through-after-your-loved-one-dies/

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Traveling On The Road Called Grief

Grief, it does not happen only when a person passes away. It is an emotion that accompanies some type of loss or tragedy that has taken place or is taking place in our lives.

"I recently had a moment, where I allowed myself to look into mom’s eyes, and linger there for a minute or so. That moment opened up those feelings of grief, the loss of the person mom once was. I do not allow myself that moment very often because it is painful; however it is a release to let the tears flow even for a few minutes."    I wrote this months ago, and felt it fit into this post on grief, because that was what I was experiencing, even though mom was still with me.

As your caregivers journey takes you on this road called grief, it is important to recognize and share with others these moments.
 
On Friday, August 9th mom stopped eating.  I managed to give her a few bites of pudding, but most of the time she just shook her head no, didn't want anything.
It is Saturday, August 14.  Last Friday mom, stopped eating.  I in my desperate need to feed and nurture her, would continue to offer her some of her pudding.  I managed a few times through those days to get her to take some of it.  But most of the time she would give me a little no head shake.

With mom’s passing on 8-16-10,  grief moved into my life in full force.  I do have the assurance and joy of knowing mom is in heaven and I will see her again.  She is strong, straight, free of wrinkles, and has thick beautiful hair.  But, I miss her. 

We have her remains here in a beautiful scattering tube that was purchased so we could scatter her remains along the Ohio River, her favorite place to swim when she was young.  I go into her room and pick up the container at least once a day, and I cry and I tell her how glad I am that she is in heaven and is perfect and whole now and with dad.  But, I say, I miss you mom.  So much has happened in these days since she left, wonderful things, but on the days that I am home all day, just me and the cats (and now we have a ferret too), I feel the loneliness and emptiness all around me, so keenly aware of the absence of her presence.  I miss her.  Grief is hard to bear yes, but how worse it would be if I did not know where she was and that I will see her again.  Faith and hope, more powerful then grief.

For a season, there will be grief, mourning the loss, missing here and I will go on.  As I was told about 2 ½ years ago, when mom is gone, I will continue on without skipping a beat.  That is so.

For those who have not yet followed my journey as mom’s caregiver these past years, you can do so on my first blogsite, The Bear Hug Waltz,  http://bearhugwaltz.blogspot.com  I will not be posting to that site anymore, as the waltz has ended.   

This Monday will be two weeks since mom passed.  Some days have dragged by unmercifully, while others zipping by.  It seems like a long time ago, yet just yesterday, or maybe the day before, I was sitting here typing and I started to get up to go check on mom.   I slowly sat back down.  No, I don’t have to do that anymore.

I want to include in this blog a post I wrote called the Long Goodbye.  Quite a few people have written posts or articles titled the same.  This one is my version.

The Long Goodbye

goodbye to sewing

goodbye to tole painting

goodbye to quilting

goodbye to doing laundry

goodbye to driving

goodbye to managing money

goodbye to taking trips

goodbye to shopping

goodbye to baking

goodbye to cleaning house

goodbye to doing dishes

goodbye to sending cards

goodbye to talking on the phone

goodbye to cooking

goodbye to reading and word search puzzles

goodbye to walking alone

goodbye to getting in the tub

goodbye to making it to the bathroom during the night

goodbye to telling time

goodbye to cooking

goodbye to going out

goodbye to remembering some times and places

goodbye to remembering some family and friends

goodbye to bathing

goodbye to using the bathroom, only the potty

goodbye to knowing morning from night

goodbye to eating solids

goodbye to drinking liquids

goodbye to feeding herself

goodbye to using a straw

goodbye to dentures

goodbye to blowing her nose

goodbye to sitting in a chair or on the couch

goodbye to using the potty

goodbye to controlled body eliminations

goodbye to talking

goodbye to my name

goodbye to standing

goodbye to sitting unassisted

goodbye to being up in wheelchair for more then once a day

goodbye to always sleeping at night

goodbye to eating what I determine to be enough for her

goodbye to skin staying strong and intact.

hello mom with the twinkle in your blue eyes......

But now the twinkle is gone, at least the earthly twinkle, now a sparkle exists that I can’t wait to see!