Grief Writing - 10 Months On

It's so crazy to think that we're already in a New Year. I type '10 months on', but it really still feels like yesterday.. or feels like it never happened (in the sense of 'can't believe it's real'). 

I've said this before but sometimes it's hard for me to gather my thoughts when I'm sat here writing. I usually can string together everything I'm thinking or feeling when I'm walking, or falling asleep (typical). I want to keep up with sharing this every month until it's been twelve, it's been important for me to try to document this first year since I started writing but today I just don't feel able to piece everything together in my mind in order to create an honest post, and I guess that's honest in itself. I have so so many thoughts in my mind all the time, but sometimes I think they're better staying in there.

I really do view the New Year as an opportunity to make myself and my Dad proud and that's what I will do. It's five days into the New Year and whilst I do have so much motivation and drive right now, it's so so hard when it's accompanied by my grief and sadness. I forget what it's like not to have a broken heart every day. I feel like this is my 'new normal', living with grief and trying to manage it whilst living whatever a normal life is. 

I would love to be able to talk to lots more people in similar situations to me but I completely understand that not everyone is able to talk about such painful things. That's something I've thought of a lot recently.

My 'grief writing' is pretty awful this month so I'm not even going to share this post anywhere, but if anyone is reading who's going through a similar thing I hope this helps you feel less alone and please reach out if you want to talk.

Nine Months On & National Grief Awareness Week

I decided to start writing this post a little earlier than nine months to the day, it's the 29th November and it's been a really really tough month. To be honest I would say this has been the most painful month I've experienced so far in terms of grief. There is a chance that being in lockdown has made things harder to cope with in terms of finding 'coping mechanisms', but the bottom line is I just miss my Dad so, so much. 
Okay, we're back to 5th December now, today is nine months since losing my Dad. I really wanted to write something back when I started this post on the 29th but recently I find it hard to put 'pen to paper' if that makes sense. What I wrote 6 days ago is essentially what I want to write now anyway. It's been so much harder recently, almost like the shock is fading and it's hitting me right in the face that my Dad is gone. The fact that Christmas is around the corner also adds to the pain as I wander around the shops seeing gifts that I wish I could buy him, cards I want to write for him and the list goes on. I've been loving seeing the robins recently, I've seen quite a few big beautiful robins that always appear when I need them the most. I tell them not to move if they're my Dad and they stay still, just long enough for me to take a photo!

This week is National Grief Awareness week and I knew about this for months and really wanted to write something in detail about grief to raise awareness, in particular anticipatory grief, but I decided to leave that for another time as I have some photos I want to share alongside that piece that I'm not ready to talk about yet. I have written out some 'tips' and 'advice' which I'll add to this post too. I don't know everything and things are definitely different for everybody, but there are a lot of similarities too so I hope these are helpful.

Eight Months On

I'm so grateful that this has been a very long month. As much as we all just want these rubbish covid times to pass, for me, I hate being further away from the last time I was with my Dad. Every single month has flown by and it's frightened me. October has been a month full of anticipation for the festivities ahead, (well, maybe not now!) and also a month full of sadness that I won't be sharing these moments with my Dad. A real 'joy and grief' co-existing month.

As the festive period begins I'm overwhelmed with the joy I feel for Christmas, the food, the lights, the decorations, the films, the music, I absolutely adore the music. I may have mentioned in my last post, maybe not, but straight away after losing Dad I said 'There's no way I can celebrate Christmas, no trees, no lights, no music, no NOTHING'. But over the last month or so I've fully changed my mind and I have gone full force into Christmas mode like NEVER before. I want it all, the lights, the music, the decorations, all of it. The reason is that it makes me feel SO close to Dad and my happiest memories, it makes me feel like I've gone back in time and that's the best gift I could give to myself. I see my Dad in the music, I see my Dad in the frosty winter air when the sky is blue and the sun is beaming. I see my Dad in the beautiful lights and the wacky decorations. I see my Dad in every childhood Christmas movie. I could never give up all of this because I'd be giving up my precious memories of him.

Everybody has their own ways of coping with grief and this is one I never expected for myself, but it's truly carrying me through one of the most painful times of the year. Yes, there are tears, my God there is tears whilst I'm singing, tears whilst I'm browsing the shops, but there is so much love and joy there too and I'm trying to choose the joy and hold it tight when I can, and cry when I need to.

Today, I sat in the same spot where I was when I found out my Dad had passed away and I looked down the corridor, imagining seeing him there like I usually would and said out loud 'Eight months, it's been eight months? Wow, that's too long to not have seen you'. I cried, my cat ran off and left me alone and I continued to plough through old photos of him. I guess there's nothing I can do about time passing by, but I will do everything to carry my Dad with me so he's never too far and time won't mean a thing.

I love you so much Dad, I sob every time I write these and secretly hope you're over my shoulder reading it with me and feeling it too. I miss you more and more and more and more and I'll never stop. ❤️️

Seven Months On..

Today is seven months since we lost my Dad and yesterday I wrote a whole post, emptying every thought and feeling as much as I possibly could. I felt vulnerable and it actually made me feel uncomfortable. I deleted everything I wrote because even though I fully stand behind being open with grief and find it therapeutic, it just felt too raw and messy to put out there this month.
I've written something a little shorter instead, (but actually more therapeutic for me).
This time last year Dad was recovering from sepsis. It was the first time he'd almost lost his life to the dangers of cancer and it really brought home the painful truth that he wouldn't be with us forever, and probably not for as long as I'd thought. His life became even more precious, the conversations I had with him made me feel like the luckiest daughter in the world. The warmth in his voice at the other end of the phone whilst I told him what I was buying in Morrisons, I only ever felt whole when I spoke to him. Of course, I really started to feel the deep sadness of anticipatory grief, but I only have fond memories of last autumn/winter. I can hear his voice in my head like he's still talking to me, his happy laugh, his silly voices, his Dad jokes, but not just any Dad jokes, my Dad's jokes. I'm trying hard to bring autumn alive in our home this year as it brings me the comforts of those memories. Doing things that remind me of Dad and memories with him brings me so much warmth inside, it's something that makes me realise that joy and grief can co-exist.

Four Months On.. How Things Really Are

It's strange to see my blog once full of beauty, travel and other light-hearted content, quickly become a dumping ground for my thoughts that I feel are difficult to put into words spoken out loud. I mean, I wish it wasn't this way, but given that it is, I'm glad I have a space I can put these thoughts into words and sentences. I know that other people in similar situations as me also relate and find these blogs helpful, which is great!

It's been four months since my Dad passed away, I haven't read back on my 'three months on' post, but I can only guess it was slightly lighter-hearted than this one will be. I wrote a post recently on mental health awareness and the importance of speaking up and reaching out, however, I've soon become the biggest hypocrite when I don't want to reach out myself. I've been struggling so much more recently with my loss, more than I think is manageable. I'm yet to integrate back into 'normal' life due to lockdown and four months down the line, I'm not sure I'm even ready to. It makes me really upset (crying as typing) to think about life returning to 'normal' when I'm just not ready. I cry every day, multiple times a day and in public too, my tears have no boundaries, I cried buying yoghurt last week! I have so much empathy and respect for people who have lost a parent and still go on.

I saw this post (above) recently and found it so relatable. I was fairly honest with most people when talking about my grief in the very very start, but as time goes on I just wonder how irritating it is to constantly hear the same thing, so I try to break it down and make it a little bit more bearable for the receiver. I just think it can be so hard to be upfront with grief or feelings in general because how somebody responds can have a further impact on those feelings. I'll be very honest and I don't really admit this to anybody but internally, I can get very easily offended when it comes to how someone responds to my grieving. I don't know why that is but I'm extremely protective over my grief and extremely sure of my feelings. I already know that's a fault on my end! (Although I have seen some strange actions occur that do warrant offence haha). Although slightly contradictory, that's not to say that people should just say 'nothing'. I've seen so many grievers online share that it's more painful when people say nothing than when they at least try to be there. I agree with this. There are some really wonderful people who are so thoughtful and kind, those who check up on me every once in a while mean so much to me. I even had a text at the beginning of Father's Day weekend from one of my oldest friends to tell me she's thinking of me for that weekend and that really meant a lot to me. I appreciate every single person and every single message that I get, whether something revolutionary has been said or not. 

I dream often about my Dad. I had one dream in particular where he was wearing the burgundy suit jacket that we laid him to rest in, he put his arms around me and was asking me how long I've been feeling this way, (because I was feeling very low). I woke up feeling somewhat comforted because it really felt like he was there talking to me, comforting me. That same day I was walking and thinking about my Dad and I saw a robin start hopping towards me, I literally burst into tears because it felt like it was him. I am quite desperate for signs from my Dad that he's still around me. I miss my Dad more and more every single day. I've had so many questions in the past month that I've really needed his advice and guidance on and it breaks my heart that he's not here to answer them.

I think I will leave this post here for now. I've been doing some writing separately for myself because even though I do share a lot, there's still a lot of things that are probably better kept to myself. But to sum up, it's so unbelievably tough, I don't feel ready to return to normal things knowing that my Dad isn't here anymore and I miss him seriously beyond any words. 

Three Months On

Today marks three months since I lost my Dad. So much is going on in the world and I very much appreciate having this space on the internet to document and share how everything is. I wasn't going to post an update today given everything that's currently being highlighted in the world, but after reflecting on old blog content last night, I decided it's important for me and my own journey to still document this today.

I wouldn't even know where the month began anymore, lockdown just feels like one large period of time, so identifying when there have been changes in my grief can be difficult to pinpoint. I go through patches of intense grieving and patches of almost needing to avoid my emotions just to get through a few days peacefully. Like I mentioned in a previous post, I've been discovering some new skills like baking and there have been countless occasions where I wish I could just show my Dad what I've been doing. It breaks my heart when I have something I want to talk to him about and I can't. 

I have had many days where I feel extremely depressed about everything and I still do, but I actually wanted to share something positive. I feel that it's my duty to make my Dad proud. I know the kind of things that would actually make my Dad proud and I feel like I'm starting to believe in myself that little bit more to be able to achieve that. I kind of boxed myself off in a category of mediocrity without even realising it and that's not what I have ever envisioned for myself since I can remember. My Dad always encouraged me to do anything I wanted to do and be anything I wanted to be and I should honour both him and myself by making that happen. My Dad's response to me sharing a dream or an ambition with him was always 'So what do you need to do to get there?' or 'So how are you going to do it?' accompanied by 'I will do everything I can and provide whatever you need to make that happen'. I miss him, I miss these conversations so much. I know that's what he's saying to me right now and that's why I'm starting to try to figure it all out. 

I'll do this Dad and I'll make you proud. I promised you that you didn't need to worry about me, (even if I wasn't sure how true that actually was). It's been three months and I miss you all day, every day, every night and I love you, I always will.

Dealing with loss whilst in quarantine

I found it very therapeutic for a little while after writing and sharing my last post about losing my Dad. I also mentioned that I wanted to use this blog almost like a diary for me, not necessarily because I have something structured to say. 

It's mid-way through week two in quarantine or self-isolation and life has changed for everybody, not just me. I'm at a bit of a loss for what to do really because just under four weeks ago, my world fell apart. My life changed forever and the way to try to move forward with that was with the support of family and friends, being around the people I love and having them hold me up in a time where I desperately need it. Fast forward to now and everybody is dealing with their own personal struggles that have come as a consequence of coronavirus. It's a very lonely time. 

I went to visit my Dad today in the chapel of rest. Since he passed away I had decided against going to see him there, I just felt I didn't want to revisit those emotions again as the road ahead is difficult enough. Over the past four weeks, I've been dreaming about him every night and that he'd come back so I could have one last conversation with him. I thought again about visiting him there as I felt it could be a very important part of the grieving process and to have that chance to be with him one last time. Things have been so much harder for a while, his absence is becoming more and more prominent each day and has become so much more real since my last post. I'm actually feeling very depressed. I've suffered from depression greatly over the last ten years and it was actually my Dad that sought help for me all those years ago. It's been my Dad that I've turned to when I felt there was no light at the end of the tunnel. On my way to visit him today, I felt such emotion for the fact that this was the final time I'd be going to him in my helpless moments. I'm glad I got to be with him and share some final moments in his physical presence, however thanks to lockdown I couldn't be with my family afterwards or have much time to process it.

Lockdown is having such a strong effect on my mental health on top of losing my Dad. It's making the most difficult time of my life so much harder. I can't be with my family, I can't do the majority of things that would typically help me, or at least distract me. I honestly thought the numbness of grief would last for a couple of months or so but with the amount of time I'm spending by myself, I can't help but feel the pain and the longing. It kills me every day. I know how painful it is for those who have loved ones in end of life care/have passed away during this time. 

I'm re-reading this post many times whilst I'm writing it and I'm quite conscious of what people might say as it's very negative, but I want to express my emotions. (Honestly, I'm still holding back so much of what I truly want to say.. and have typed out about twenty times).

The bottom line is, I'm not okay. I might not cry when I talk to people, but I am absolutely less than okay. I am less than coping. I hope and pray that as a nation we pull together and do what is required of us (stay home) so we can get out of this mess sooner. I just want to be able to take care of myself and my family and try to process the loss of my Dad, the person we love more than anything on this Earth. 

I'm sure there will be better days just like there are bad days. I'm having a lot of consecutive bad days which is what brought me back here again, but I hope to share something more positive in the near future. I do have hope for better days, for example, tomorrow I have some rhinestones arriving and I'm going to bedazzle the hell out of all of my make-up brushes. Lord knows there's good in that. 

I hope everyone who is reading this during the coronavirus period is keeping well, safe, and finding things to keep yourself occupied. I would love to learn some new skills. Tomorrow, I bedazzle. Some people go to therapy, I turn to bedazzling. My Dad would not be surprised after me filling my room with glitter and sparkly things my whole childhood. 

I will post again, possibly when I have done something positive and can share some hope but at the end of the day, what's the good in 'it's okay to talk' or 'speak up' if I just sprinkle sunshine everywhere when I feel like a massive grey cloud. I have put a really happy photo below though as it very much makes me smile no matter what :)

Losing my Dad

I haven't posted on here in so long, I think almost two years? A lot has changed in that time, but I can save those details for future posts.

I actually opened up this empty page to talk. I want to talk about losing my Dad, who sadly passed away just over a week ago (5th March 2020). I don't want to spam my Instagram every day with deep and emotional posts and captions as I don't want to worry people, but I need an outlet to which I can vent, somewhere I can write my feelings down. Sure, I could write it in a diary, or write it here and never post it, but for the few people that may read this, it may resonate with them, maybe comfort them to feel like they're not alone or maybe they can help me? Either way, I'm happy for this post and future posts not to have a definitive goal or purpose, simply for me to vent my feelings at that moment.

So as I said, it's been just over a week since losing my Dad, my world. He passed away from cancer, (multiple myeloma). I felt excruciating pain, particularly in the week leading up to his passing. There's a lot to be said for 'anticipatory grief', and not enough said about it. In the month leading up to Dads passing, I was told not to be so sad as he was still here. For anyone who has lost someone to cancer, or to anyone losing somebody to cancer, you know the pain and the fear for the future. It's crippling. Seeing Dads perfect happy smiley face, his usual wonderful sense of humour and knowing that one day it would be taken away from me was so painful. I would have the happiest phone calls with him every evening, I just loved hearing his voice and what interesting things he had to say, I'd come off the phone feeling so happy but then I would break down in tears with the knowledge that this wasn't forever, and probably not for long either and I just wanted those phone calls to never end. I get the whole 'enjoy the time you've got' approach, but if you haven't experienced it you can't fathom the pain and process of losing someone to cancer, (or any terminal illness).  Don't get me wrong, I hugged my Dad that little bit tighter every time I saw him, I hung on to every word he said and I would always tell him I loved him, but feeling as though his life was on a ticking time bomb was heartbreaking every day. 

Anticipatory grief is beginning the grieving process of a loved one before they have passed away. I felt a lot of guilt and trauma over this because it felt like I was giving up on Dad by being broken about him not being here when he was still here. It's not something I wanted to talk about very much either because I didn't want to upset anybody else, plus I was ashamed of thinking in such a negative way. I opened up a lot more about it in Dads final days when we were given the sad news that we would only have a matter of days with him. The Macmillan palliative care team came around and chatted with me every single day whilst I cried and talked. I told them this pain was ripping me apart because a part of me was desperately holding on to the fact that Dad was still here and I begged God, the Earth, anyone that that was all I wanted, I just wanted Dad. The other part of me could see how much he was suffering, this is not what he wanted and it was crippling to see him in pain and my heart was trying to make peace and accept that he couldn't be with us in any other way and that he would have to leave us. From further researching this, I believe this well sums up anticipatory grief. It got so bad for me that there was no other option than for me to go to the GP for some medication, one to slow my heart down and a sedative to let my body rest. (I hadn't eaten, slept and barely drank anything for days). I felt immense guilt about everything I was feeling and I know I shouldn't have, but if you have felt this pain or feel this pain, you are not alone. People don't talk about it enough and it can be a very lonely place when you're experiencing it. I hope to continue this painful conversation, not because I can change the process, but so people don't feel alone.

Losing Dad wasn't a blur. I remember it all very clearly. I screamed. I couldn't walk. I held him. I asked him where has he gone. I kissed him and made promises. What is a blur, is time. The distance between now and the last time I saw Dad is becoming greater and greater and that is something I'm finding very difficult. I'm experiencing grief as textbook as you can expect to right now. I'm numb most of the time. Completely useless all of the time. It truly feels like a piece of me went with Dad as I feel a constant emptiness like something is missing. I want to add that losing somebody to cancer does not prepare you for their actual death by any means. There is no way to explain the shock and pain that hits once you receive that news. There are no more questions, no more possibilities, it's final and I physically felt my whole world crumble around me in that very moment. My heart was ripped out of my chest.

I guess this is where I am. Anyone will be reading this right now thinking I'm crazy and would tell me to give myself a rest or whatever. I talk about my feelings and I'm told it takes time, or be strong or many other stifling comments. I don't resent them because I know that it comes from a good place and often a place of 'I don't know what to say', but I wish people knew it's okay to talk about the things that hurt. It's okay to say 'I can't believe this happened, this hurts so much and I can't bear it' without needing resolution. I don't expect to be healed and I don't expect anyone to have the words to heal me, it's okay not to be able to. 

I have a long road ahead of me, in fact, that road is the rest of my life. I'm very much in a state of disbelief. I can't get my head around the fact that Dad isn't coming home. Every day I have painful reminders that he really did pass away and they come as a shock, they make me cry in pain and desperately long for him, long for his voice and his hugs. It still isn't real.

Writing all of this out has been the most therapeutic thing I've done in the last week or so. Just emptying my current thoughts with nobody to stop me, nobody to tell me to be strong and nobody to tell me it's too soon to expect to feel any different. Very freeing for a short period of time. 

I'd like to think I'll continue to write about my thoughts and feelings as they develop. I will never stop talking about Dad, that's for sure. He was the most amazing, kind, loving, intelligent man and I will spend the rest of my life trying to find his energy within myself. I loved him and will continue to love him with every beat of my heart forever.