it comes and goes
Today I experienced a grief attack. It felt little like panic attack. I didn't even know that's what it was called, but after crying out loud for what seemed like an hour, I typed in 'i miss my dad' into google search box and saw that there were others dealing with same issues as me. Through this I found the term grief attack, thanks to one of the posts in this very group by _roqille. reading the list of 'freedoms in healing' helped me cry the rest of the pain out and calmed me down. It still takes time, for the debilitating pain to pass.
My dad died when I was 16.
We lived in asia. When I was 12, my mom and little sister age 4 and I moved temporarily to america. We alternated travelling to and from, so that this family of four were able to see each other every few months.
when i was 13, he was diagnosed with cancer, in-operable, and was given 6 month to live. I remember marking my calendar with the eminent day of his death.
he didn't die on that marked day, and i distinctly remember feeling confused with happiness that he was still with us, and with stress that he could die any minute from that moment on.
Time waits for no one, and life continued with regularity. Often, I was able to put the thoughts of illness and eminent death 'on the shelf' and live a relatively calm life and focus on school and friends and everyday living. But there was a kind of a ticking time bomb feeling that we didn't talk about. and when new information about the condition of his illness surfaced, we accepted the facts and put the brave faces back on for each other.
When i was 15 and was in middle of freshman year in high school, and my mother and sister returned to asia. I was given an opportunity to stay in America, and so I chose this. America was my new land, English was my new tongue. I lived with a temporary host family, who was my dear 'English as a Second Language' teacher. Life was spinning too fast for me to get a grip, I was probably already severely depressed.
For my Sophomore year at age 16, I moved in with a more permanent host family, an old friends of my parents with two pre-teen children. To accomodate me for the long term stay and welcoming me into the family, they sold their old house and purchased a larger one. It was an eventful time for us all. Life has funny way of marking time. The day we moved in to the new house, that evening, we received a call that my father had passed. Automatically and mechanically, I accepted the news, and put on another brave face. At this moment of automation, I remember facing a new sense of life without my dad, something cracked within me, kind of like those ice-packs which you pop a button and crystals start to form and spread the cold. As I was observing this phenomenon within me, my host-father reached out to me to embrace me, the daughter of one of his best friend, and he sobbed on my shoulders. This shocked me, and propelled me into numbness like i had been knocked off balance and was never the same. It was October 13th 1990 in America. I was 16 and my dad was 47.
Days and weeks after, I grew angry at anyone who said they were sorry. I detested hearing that. and immediately tossed me into bad mood. There was nothing anyone could do, and i wanted people to at least not bring up the subject of my father's death, or what a tough time i must be going through. I was angry dipped in denial and chose to stay numb which felt the safest option. Especially as I am a guest in this host family, and a guest in this host country.
Like rubbing salt on a raw wound, it didn't help me at the time that my mother chose to remarry in a year after my father's death. Logically it all made sense, my step-father had just lost his wife to illness and they chose to combine the family together. la-di-dah, but once again for me life was happening too fast.
Today, more than 22 years has passed, and I still experience grief attacks.
it comes and goes.
I experienced numbness and disengagement and anger for 3 years before the pressure of emotional energy was too accumulative to keep it under brave face. Finally during college I sought for counseling. Alas, the counselor moved away and i didn't replace her.
I am compelled to share with you what helped me today, entry link below.
http://imissmydad.livejournal.com/565337.html and thank you to _roqille for sharing the list.
The most meaningful to me today are:
'i give myselfpermission to realize that my grief if unique.'
'i have the freedom to talk about my grief.'
'i have the freedom to experience "grief attacks" or memory embraces.'
'i have the freedom to treasure my memories.'
'i am free to move towards my grief at my own pace and begin to heal.'
My dad died when I was 16.
We lived in asia. When I was 12, my mom and little sister age 4 and I moved temporarily to america. We alternated travelling to and from, so that this family of four were able to see each other every few months.
when i was 13, he was diagnosed with cancer, in-operable, and was given 6 month to live. I remember marking my calendar with the eminent day of his death.
he didn't die on that marked day, and i distinctly remember feeling confused with happiness that he was still with us, and with stress that he could die any minute from that moment on.
Time waits for no one, and life continued with regularity. Often, I was able to put the thoughts of illness and eminent death 'on the shelf' and live a relatively calm life and focus on school and friends and everyday living. But there was a kind of a ticking time bomb feeling that we didn't talk about. and when new information about the condition of his illness surfaced, we accepted the facts and put the brave faces back on for each other.
When i was 15 and was in middle of freshman year in high school, and my mother and sister returned to asia. I was given an opportunity to stay in America, and so I chose this. America was my new land, English was my new tongue. I lived with a temporary host family, who was my dear 'English as a Second Language' teacher. Life was spinning too fast for me to get a grip, I was probably already severely depressed.
For my Sophomore year at age 16, I moved in with a more permanent host family, an old friends of my parents with two pre-teen children. To accomodate me for the long term stay and welcoming me into the family, they sold their old house and purchased a larger one. It was an eventful time for us all. Life has funny way of marking time. The day we moved in to the new house, that evening, we received a call that my father had passed. Automatically and mechanically, I accepted the news, and put on another brave face. At this moment of automation, I remember facing a new sense of life without my dad, something cracked within me, kind of like those ice-packs which you pop a button and crystals start to form and spread the cold. As I was observing this phenomenon within me, my host-father reached out to me to embrace me, the daughter of one of his best friend, and he sobbed on my shoulders. This shocked me, and propelled me into numbness like i had been knocked off balance and was never the same. It was October 13th 1990 in America. I was 16 and my dad was 47.
Days and weeks after, I grew angry at anyone who said they were sorry. I detested hearing that. and immediately tossed me into bad mood. There was nothing anyone could do, and i wanted people to at least not bring up the subject of my father's death, or what a tough time i must be going through. I was angry dipped in denial and chose to stay numb which felt the safest option. Especially as I am a guest in this host family, and a guest in this host country.
Like rubbing salt on a raw wound, it didn't help me at the time that my mother chose to remarry in a year after my father's death. Logically it all made sense, my step-father had just lost his wife to illness and they chose to combine the family together. la-di-dah, but once again for me life was happening too fast.
Today, more than 22 years has passed, and I still experience grief attacks.
it comes and goes.
I experienced numbness and disengagement and anger for 3 years before the pressure of emotional energy was too accumulative to keep it under brave face. Finally during college I sought for counseling. Alas, the counselor moved away and i didn't replace her.
I am compelled to share with you what helped me today, entry link below.
http://imissmydad.livejournal.com/565337.html and thank you to _roqille for sharing the list.
The most meaningful to me today are:
'i give myselfpermission to realize that my grief if unique.'
'i have the freedom to talk about my grief.'
'i have the freedom to experience "grief attacks" or memory embraces.'
'i have the freedom to treasure my memories.'
'i am free to move towards my grief at my own pace and begin to heal.'