Grieving Parent

Tag: Grieving

  • Saying Goodbye a Bit at a Time

    Saying Goodbye a Bit at a Time

    I finally canceled Richard’s cell phone.

    For nearly six months we’ve been paying for that phone. And it has just sat there on the divider between our kitchen and TV rooms doing nothing. No phone calls. No text messages. Nothing.

    So why did we waste all that money?

    Because it’s just hard as hell to let go of anything that was a part of Richard’s life.

    He’s gone. But there are these little bits of him left behind. And getting rid of them feels like getting rid of him.

    We justified keeping the phone at first, because there may be messages or calls from friends that didn’t know Richard had died. We wanted to let them know..

    But news travels fast. So the messages and calls stopped within about the first week. So not wanting to let go was the only real reason.

    I know this is dumb. Having these things – Richard’s things – doesn’t bring him back to us. Holding his cell phone doesn’t give me comfort. I still miss him just as much as I would if I didn’t have them. But it’s still so hard to let go of any of them.

    So we’ve taken the first step. Truthfully it’s just a half step. We still have the phone sitting there. Just the phone number is actually gone.

  • I Just Want To Scream!

    I Just Want To Scream!

    There have been times since Richard died that I want to scream. Very loudly, at the top of my lungs. In anger.

    Yesterday at work was one of those times.

    We are going through our annual process of signing up for benefits for next year. During this period they have various insurance and health care service providers conduct little “benefit fairs” at various locations in the plant. They answer questions, pass out literature and maybe give away junk like tote bags, pens, tire gauges and other promotional materials.

    One of the guys came back from one of these with some brochures from a mail-order prescription provider. One of the brochures was about how great generic drugs are. It had a nice little graphic of two identical apples. The apple on the left was the expensive name brand drug. The apple on the right was the wonderful generic medicine. The text explained that the two are exactly the same. The only difference is the price.

    That is a TOTAL LIE!

    And I have Richard’s grave to prove it.

    Yes, generics are cheaper and save money. Yes they are a safe and effective alternative in most cases. But they are NOT exactly the same as the name brand medicine they replace. And it is very irresponsible of the medical community to keep putting out that myth.

    No one should have to learn the truth from the medical examiner.

    I’m trying hard to not become a bitter old man because of this. But the medical profession isn’t making that easy.

  • Full of Joy?

    Full of Joy?

    The Responsorial Psalm at mass yesterday got my attention. It was:

    “The Lord has done great things for us. We are filled with joy.”

    Filled with joy?

    It’s now been five months since Richard left us.

    I’ll admit the Lord has done great things for us. And I’m grateful for them. Honest.

    And I keep trying to figure out what happiness means without Richard in our life. And that’s the problem.

    My imagination just can’t paint that picture. For 22 years just about everything that I consider a part of happiness has included Richard. He was often the primary source of that happiness. For me, happiness and family are nearly the same word. And joy is beyond happiness. A higher level of happiness maybe. And even more dependent on family.

    And now such a big part of family and joy is gone.

    So, I’m not filled with joy. Not yet. Maybe never again.

  • Questions with No Answers

    Questions with No Answers

    The death of your child leaves you with a lot of questions.

    There are lots of “what if” and “why didn’t I” type questions. The ones that come from that guilty feeling that you should have done something to prevent this.

    But I have other questions. Questions I’ll never be able to answer.

    • The day before Richard died he bought a new Bible. It was a large print version. Like us old people might need. It was on his bed. Like the typical college male that he was, Richard slept on the couch of his one room apartment and used the bed as a storage shelf. Why did he buy this Bible. He already had his Catholic Youth Bible with him. Why the large print. Was this going to be a gift?
    • Richard was found face down in the middle of the room. Did he come out of the seizures long enough to get up and start across the room or did he fall asleep on the floor while watching TV?
    • His computer was in hibernate mode. It says he had 4 programs running. What were they? What was he doing on the computer in those last few hour of his life?
    • There were 2 huge chocolate tombstones in his room. Still in the boxes. What’s with those?
    • Richard went to the local Arby’s and bought 2 large roast beef sandwiches and a large Coke. Cost nearly $13. It was probably his last meal. It was past 2am when he bought this. He ate it in his car on the way home. The empty containers were still in the car.  Why was he at Arby’s at 2am? Did he just get off work? Did he get hungry and go out for a snack?
    • How long did it take for Richard to die? Did he know what was happening to him or did the seizure cloud his mind enough to keep him from knowing he was helpless and dying?
    • There were several dozen eggs in his refrigerator. Was he really going to eat that many eggs? The Cousins have told us many funny stories about Richard’s experimental recipes with eggs. So the answer to that question is probably yes.
  • Saying Thank You Shouldn’t Be So Tough

    Saying Thank You Shouldn’t Be So Tough

    After Richard’s funeral we wrote thank you cards like crazy.

    We sent one to just about everyone that signed our guest book at the funeral home. And to all the people that sent flowers or food. We sent out several huge piles.

    We tried to avoid being too generic, and put personal notes in each card. We wanted to express our real gratitude for the love and support that so many had given us.

    But we had to save some for later.

    I find it so hard to express my feelings to these loved ones. The people that have shared our lives. People that shared Richard’s life. That enjoyed him and loved him. People that were feeling great pain from his loss as well as we were.

    And now more than 4 months after the funeral they are still unwritten.

    My mother-in-law fell this weekend and broke her hip.

    I figured while sitting in her hospital room would be a good time to get these done.

    I wrote to three sets of aunts and uncles. A couple of these traveled a great distance to be with us. They all went together and bought us a nice granite bench to put in the cemetery. I love them all a great deal. They’ve been a big part of my life. I feel guilty for taking so long to thank them.

    Then I started writing to “the cousins.” These three ladies grew up with Richard. He loved them. They loved him. I don’t know if we would have made it through the funeral process without them.

    I began with Hannah. She has referred to Richard as her “cousin slash big brother.” They were close in age so they shared all the big family events. They did First Communion together. Had Confirmation together. Both were August babies, so they had many combined birthday parties. While not attending the same schools, they graduated from high school the same year, and got to share in a family celebration of their accomplishment. They were both supposed to graduate from college this year.

    Richard fell behind because of the medical issues. Something about a couple of brain surgeries seemed to slow him down. He told Hannah he had the brain surgery so she could finally have a party by herself.

    For most of one school year Richard shared an apartment with Hannah and Shelby. Shelby is Hannah’s little sister and another of “the cousins.”

    They were very close.

    As I wrote the note to Hannah I started remembering all the times they had together growing up.  And how much they meant to one another. And my eyes started watering up.

    It’s hard to write with tears in your eyes.

    So I got 4 cards done.