Devestated

[The-Real-Deal82]

Still struggle on a Daily basis. But the waves don’t come as often as they did. I have been trying to live in the sunshine of my daughters life as opposed to the shadows that are her loss. It’s not easy, and a picture, or a word, smell, or thought can still break me down. But I see the progress I have made in eight months.
Thank you so much for checking in. It means so much.

You’re doing the best you can, and I’m glad you’ve found the strength.

 

[TheSkywalker77]

I don't have children of my own, but I can't imagine the thought of losing someone that special to you. I was devastated when I lost my grandparents long ago, as that was the first immediate family death I had experienced, and as a child I didn't know what to think. But damn, my own child. Hard to think about that kind of pain. I noticed this thread was posted a few months ago, and I hope your pain has subsided a bit. Thoughts and prayers going out to you.

Stuff like this really makes you think about the truly important stuff and people in life.

 

[Scepticalscribe]

Still struggle on a Daily basis. But the waves don’t come as often as they did. I have been trying to live in the sunshine of my daughters life as opposed to the shadows that are her loss. It’s not easy, and a picture, or a word, smell, or thought can still break me down. But I see the progress I have made in eight months.
Thank you so much for checking in. It means so much.

Very glad to see you back and checking in, and I hope that the pain - and the waves of realisation - come less frequently and less powerfully than they used to.

Yes, eight months - nine in my case - do allow for some progress and some amelioration of that awful ache.

However, the pain (and the laughter) both remind you that you are human.

From my own perspective, I can say that it does get a bit easier with time, and, that while the loss - and elements of sharp and agonising grief will always be with you - the acute and savage and visceral pain does lessen and is reduced with time.

And the memories are more welcome in some ways, because while you may smile more and cry a bit less, - it is a way of saluting the memory of who she was and what she meant to you which means that you can connect with that in a positive way.

I think trying to live in what you have so beautifully described as "the sunshine of your daughter's life" - as opposed to the shadows of her loss - is a wonderful thing, and a lovely thing and a positive thing; I try to do something similar when re-visiting my rich memory banks where my mother resides, not always successfully - as shadows must have their say, too - but I find it healing and restful and restorative.

Now, when I think of my mother (and I do so often), it is mostly with a smile, and a shared story with my brother; the ache of loss and pain and sorrow and grief are still there, but, these days, I am increasingly cheered at some of the passing thoughts and fleeting glimpses and reminders of my mother, rather than bowled over with grief and sorrow (although they still visit).

Be kind to yourself - give yourself time to grieve and to heal to some extent - and salute her life - her shared life with you - and the love you shared.

 

[PracticalMac]

Still struggle on a Daily basis. But the waves don’t come as often as they did. I have been trying to live in the sunshine of my daughters life as opposed to the shadows that are her loss. It’s not easy, and a picture, or a word, smell, or thought can still break me down. But I see the progress I have made in eight months.
Thank you so much for checking in. It means so much.

Great to hear you are getting better.
She would want you to live in her memory than dwell in your grief.

Hugs.

 

[dotzero123]

Raist, good to hear from you. We all wish you well.

 

[Raist3001]

Very glad to see you back and checking in, and I hope that the pain - and the waves of realisation - come less frequently and less powerfully than they used to.

Yes, eight months - nine in my case - do allow for some progress and some amelioration of that awful ache.

However, the pain (and the laughter) both remind you that you are human.

From my own perspective, I can say that it does get a bit easier with time, and, that while the loss - and elements of sharp and agonising grief will always be with you - the acute and savage and visceral pain does lessen and is reduced with time.

And the memories are more welcome in some ways, because while you may smile more and cry a bit less, - it is a way of saluting the memory of who she was and what she meant to you which means that you can connect with that in a positive way.

I think trying to live in what you have so beautifully described as "the sunshine of your daughter's life" - as opposed to the shadows of her loss - is a wonderful thing, and a lovely thing and a positive thing; I try to do something similar when re-visiting my rich memory banks where my mother resides, not always successfully - as shadows must have their say, too - but I find it healing and restful and restorative.

Now, when I think of my mother (and I do so often), it is mostly with a smile, and a shared story with my brother; the ache of loss and pain and sorrow and grief are still there, but, these days, I am increasingly cheered at some of the passing thoughts and fleeting glimpses and reminders of my mother, rather than bowled over with grief and sorrow (although they still visit).

Be kind to yourself - give yourself time to grieve and to heal to some extent - and salute her life - her shared life with you - and the love you shared.

Time has a way of freezing us in moments that can be good but also heartbreaking. I often find myself back in the hospital with all the sounds and orders. My therapist tells me not to hide from these memories, and to face them. Thing is, I don’t try to hide, and I do face them. And they are heart wrenching. Those are the toughest waves. And when they hit, I ride them out, and try to replace them with memories of her life. How we shared our special moments. I am grateful for those moments. I am grateful for the 10 years I had with my daughter.

I am happy to know that your waves are also not coming As often. And you can think of your mother with a smile. Talking about our loved ones, ignites a joy within our souls which helps us heal. I would love to hear any story you wish to share. In grief, we can find happiness.

You are in my prayers and thoughts.
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