Things are not Good

[Handstitched]

@Frodo & @chuck123wapati Thank you  so much  to you both and  for sharing      The people in my local community have been very caring and supportive as Mum was very popular and well respected  amongst the locals . 

It was just so unexpected , no warning, no symptoms  . 

Chuck, when I was talking to her and holding her hand , I could feel Mum trying to hold mine, I take great comfort in that, and yes, they can hear your voice . Hearing is one of the last senses to remain. 

Frodo,  it will take a quite  a while.  My nerves are still very raw.  No-one heals completely from loss .  And just writing about her and talking about  her does help a lot. 

I went into her sewing room recently, her life is in that room ,  I stayed in it for about a minute, ...and walked right out again  ,couldn't handle it. Too soon . That will take time . 

Thanks again,

HS

[tsunkasapa]

So sorry to hear this. It is never easy to lose those we love. 

[kgg]

@Handstitched I am so sorry for your loss. My thoughts are with you during this troubling time.

kgg

[Handstitched]

I have many friends that I have made at the craft markets over the years . One of which, her and her hubby are very crafty, she does some pretty fancy hand made quilts, and he does picture framing.  We've known each other for years.  They have been helping me through  these tough times.  The more I talk/write about stuff, the ( slightly) easier its becoming,  and  people on here sharing  on here helps too.   I still have my difficult moments, but I'm getting through it .  So thank you to all for your support   

HS

Edited June 20, 2023 by Handstitched

[SUP]

I am so sorry for your loss. Consider it a blessing for both of you, that you were with her until the last. The last thing she knew was that her son with her. Our prayers are with you.

I lost my mother in 2021. I could not be with her as she is not in the country and I could not travel due to health reasons. She was ailing - she never really recovered from losing my father in 2008. I spoke to her 10 minutes before she passed away suddenly. The only consolation for me is that her last words to me were 'I love you very, very much" and I replied ' I love you too". Every day that we  were apart for over 35 years, I called her twice daily so that when she awoke in the morning and then went to bed at night, she knew I loved her and that I was fine. 

I still sometimes reach for the phone to call her - habit of half-a-life time. 

One never really gets over losing parents but it does get a little easier. It might take  while but that day will come when you can remember her with love and affection without the deep associated pain.

[Handstitched]

17 hours ago, SUP said:

One never really gets over losing parents but it does get a little easier. 

I'm sorry for your loss as well, and thank you for sharing. I feel that the more I talk to people and write about it on here,   the slightly better it gets, although my nerves are still a little raw at times. Right now I''m just mentally exhausted . Its been non stop since Wednesday , formalities,  paper work, finances, arrangements,  lots of phone calls, emails , finalising stuff   etc. The weekend will help to clear my head a little . 

Talk about force of habit, I did a roast chicken last week, and I poured my Mother a glass of wine....

HS

[SUP]

Yes. That is when it hits home the most, when we do something and the person we do it for is suddenly not around. 

The formalities are painful, especially when you see the name on all those documents. I'm sorry. This is a really difficult time for you.

Edited June 23, 2023 by SUP

[Sheilajeanne]

Handstitched, so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is. And how the grief will sneak up and cause you to burst into tears at the most unexpected times, over the most trivial things. 

I kept things that belonged to my husband. Have gradually let go of some (it will be 20 years next year!) but still have a few. A lambs wool sweater that is far too big for me but very cosy to wrap up in on a cold night. A sweat shirt from the university we both graduated from. At some point I need I know to go through the hundreds of pictures he took during our time together, and get them down to a manageable number, then scan them into the computer. 

The best description of the grieving process I've ever come across is this. I don't know who wrote it, but it's very accurate:

"My friend just died. I don't know what to do."

‘I’m old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not.

I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents...

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.

Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.

If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

 

 

[Handstitched]

18 hours ago, SUP said:

Yes. That is when it hits home the most, when we do something and the person we do it for is suddenly not around. 

Theres been quite a few of those  moments lately. 

5 hours ago, Sheilajeanne said:

Handstitched, so sorry for your loss

I just read all that, thats actually quite beautiful.  I can see the wave coming, but knowing that  I'll survive it  .  

Thank you both for sharing

Peace   

[SUP]

@Sheilajeanne, that is very beautiful and so true.

[Handstitched]

Get this, I'm not far from our local air strip ( here in the bush west Oz) )  . The emergency services aeroplane  flew over our house a short time ago. I can tell by the sound , it also flies right over our house, I can see the lights. The same plane that took my Mother to hospital  just over a week ago. 

It hit me , and Dad , like a ton of bricks.  Never expected that to hit a nerve the way it did.  Thats going to be a constant reminder .  I also thought of the family that may be going through the same experience   that we went through. 

Deep breath !!!!  Phew !! 

HS