I have been trying to help my husband. He hasn't shown any grief since the day he had to see his father's body at the funeral home. At the funeral he was the only dry-eyed person. I have been doing everything around the house, and anything I can think of to make things easier on him. But I am about ready to snap. NOt at him but at the insensitivity of other people. It is crazy. First, the my FIL's sister (in her 50's) posted an invite to his funeral on facebook. It was supposed to be a private family graveside service because my husband's mother is in a very fragile state right now. It was such a shock and she is not doing well. So two days before the funeral it is found out that his family now has to get together enough food to feed about 50 ppl because my FIL's sister invited all these people to the service and get together afterward. They did NOT need the extra stress of having to do this!! And a simple thing- my parents decided to send flowers my MIL's house even though they really don't know her. My mother asked ME to send them (because I could pick out something she'd like I guess) so I called a local florist and asked that the flowers be delivered to the house on the day of the funeral. The florist calls me back the day of the funeral to say they couldn't get the flowers I wanted in that day so they would be delivered the next day. I didn't want to argue so I said ok. There are more important things. But then I get another call that evening saying the flowers wouldnt' be delivered until TWO days after the funeral. I spoke with the owner who was VERY rude. When I said the flowers were for a funeral he corrected me and said "No they are not for a funeral, they are being delivered to a home address." Yes, dumbass but they have a sympathy card with them. He then asked what the address was even though I'd already given it to the person who took the order previously. He went on to say it wasn't his fault (I wasn't even upset at this point) that his supplier was late and all he could do was have me select another arrangement and he "Might" be able to deliver it by the next day. I found another florist and called him back and asked him to cancel the order. He said he'd already made arrangements to get the flowers I needed (still two days late) and I told him I just wanted to cancel the order please and he said whatever and hung up on me!! Stupid, but I just broke down crying. And at the service, the strangest thing was that my MIL did not want to watch her husband's urn be buried in the dirt (her kids and grandkids wanted to watch) and I definately don't blame her. She is still thinking of him as a person who is alive or has characteristics of being alive and to see that would just kill me. She started bawling and told everyone she had to get out of there and NOT one of her kids escorted her away. MY FIL's sister who posted the thing on facebook took her away. It also seems that my MIL does not want to hear any good things about her husband from anyone. SHe is very angry toward him (probably for leaving her alone) and if anything nice is said she gets mad. So I say nothing. I just don't know what to do.

I don't get to go on the internet too very ofter but am glad I found this sight. I have been trying to remember the good things without waking up the pain. It has been very difficult but I think it has worked a few times. I feel very guilty about not having been there his very last breath and see him there waiting to die. My Dad had an abdominal aortic aneurism. Last August he had a GI bleed. The doctors told him it was a small one but the next one was going to kill him and he didn't have long to live. My Dad wanted to go home and get his affairs ready and I hired someone to come in and help him as he had numerous medications to take and he was getting weaker because of the blood he lost. My Dad and I lived in separate cities and I have 3 smal kids at home. This one particular night I called him and asked him what he was doing and he said, "I just had Mr.? over from the funeral home and I picked out my coffin and arranged the music and the legionaire tribute and so on." I was mortified. My Dad was a strong man, he just wanted to die at home and when that happened he didn't want anything to fall in my hands to arrange. For the next few months I watched him die as he got more and more weak. He hated taking the pills so we decided if he just wanted to take his pain pills just to keep him comfortable that was all he had to take. The first of November I had to go to Toronto on business, I was in a meeting when my phone rang it was my Dad. He told me that he called the ambulance because he was vomiting blood andhe figured his time was up so he said he called to tell me he loved me and that I was his favorite and that he was very proud of me. I told him I was on the next flight out and he said he would try and hold on to see me one more time. I made it home to find him back home and drinking his cup of tea in his favorite chair. You see they did not have a bed for him and sent him home. Dad was on a waiting list to get into Paliative Care at the hospital. Dad was a veteran so it didn't take long once Dad had come to the conclusion that he would get better care there. From mid November to December when he passed away I had rec'd 9 calls that this was it and I better get to the hospital. Each time I would get there he would be sitting up talking or sleeping. The last week I was there Saturday night and we had spent time with Dad in the TV room and he said that my little brother was going to bring in Dad's dog the next day. We had a good visit. Sunday my little brother sat with Dad. Monday my Mom and my sister (no longer married to him and my sister was not his) went to see him and they said he had ate some fried chicken and had a great day up talking and making fun. Monday night I spoke to him on the phone and he said he had a good day and he loved me very much. I wasn't able to go down on Monday as my husband's grandmother had died over the weekend and we went to her funeral. Tuesday morning I got the call, I rushed down to see my Dad looking like death was on it's way. My step Mom had passed away in 2002 and she had the same look before she passed away. When I got to the hospital my 2 brothers had already got there. They said he had been out of it and was not responding to anything. I went in and sat down beside him and cried like a baby while I was holding his hand. He squeezed my hand a a couple tears rolled down his cheek, he knew I was there. I stayed all week in his room until Saturday, it was my daughter's birthday I had to go home I hadn't seen my kids all week. At 2:00am on Sunday I called and asked if my Dad was OK and they said he was the same and I told her to tell him I would be there first thing in the morning and to tell him I loved him. At 5:15am I got the call that my Dad had took his last breath. I hate to hear the phone ring in the middle of the night. I honestly think he waited until I was gone to die because he didn't want me seeing him like that. I now have a very big guilt that I was not there for him but am trying to put that feeling away I was there when he needed me most. He did not die alone though one of the nurses there was the daughter of a real good friend of my Dad's and she was there when he passed away. I went to my Dad's house after the funeral with my brothers and we packed up a lot of my Dad's things. I brought home his PJ's and his robe. After the funeral I felt so helpless, no more travelling to see Dad no more long distance phone calls, no more Dad. I was having a hard time sleeping, each night at 2am I would wake up and could not go back to sleep I was having a hard time breathing when I layed down so I had to get up. 2:00 was the time my Dad's funeral was. I was having anxiety attacks. Christmas Eve I was still having a hard time sleeping it was nearly 2 weeks since he passed away. I was up again at 2 so I got up and went down stairs and cried non stop. The kids got up at 8am it seemed like forever. My girls are so great and if it were not for them I think I would have probably curled up and died. The was a gift underneath the tree from my Dad, he had given it to me in November and I had forgotten all about it. When my youngest daughter found it with my name on it she passed it to me ever so gently as if it were a rare diamond. I always looked forward to opening my Dad's gifts because they were always so off the wall. This year it was a father and daughter figurine, it made me cry and my girls hugged me so hard. Over the years my Dad got me a meat slicer, a vacuum sealer, a set of wind chimes that were so loud that I remember one night going downstairs outside and throwing them on the ground. I loved his gifts because they were gifts that you would never go out and buy yourself. I would give anything to see his old hen scratching on a gift or card. The year I turned 40 and I didn't receive any flowers from my Dad the first in I don't know how many years. Anyways Christmas night I landed in the hospital the doctors gave me all the usual tests and couldn't find a reason for my shortness of breath and my chest pains. She asked me if I had a family history of heart problems and that is when I broke down in tears and could not stop crying she didn't know what to think until I told her about my Dad. She said that grief can do a lot of weird things to your body and mind. She told me nothing was physically wrong with me and gave me some anti depressants. I did not take them when I found out there was nothing physically wrong with me. That night I slept past 2am I awoke at 4:30am I was so excited that I broke the pattern. I suppose I have said enough tonight, thanksd for all your words of wisdom and thanks for letting me ramble. Take care to all and God bless.

My Dad was an abusive alcoholic. Not to put too fine a point on it, it was a tremendous relief when my parents divorced when I was 13 and he left. I had no contact from him after that, not that I was bothered. Then, when I was 16, I had finished school and was spending a year travelling. Since I would be passing through the city in which my Dad and his new wife lived, my mother insisted I should at least visit him for an hour or two between landing on the plane from home and boarding the ship for overseas. I didn't particularly want to but my mother was a hard person to argue with. So, he and his new wife picked me up from the airport and took me to their apartment for afternoon tea. It was awkward. I was too young to really ask the right questions. Like, why did you hit me? That said, he was so locked into lying about everything I doubt I would have got a truthful answer. New wife had some adult children from a previous relationship who were older than me, who apparently would like to have met me but were unavailable. So I had to speak with them on the telephone, again an experience I wasn't all that keen to have. They chastised me for being an ungrateful daughter: according to my Dad he had been sending me birthday and Christmas cards and gifts, money, the whole works, and not once had ungrateful me replied or sent thanks. This was more fantasy on Dad's part: I never received anything and have no reason to think that my scrupulously honest mother would have prevented me receiving anything that had been sent. I disabused them of the fantasy. Eventually our awkward afternoon tea drew to a close and they took me to my ship and I left and never saw him again. When he died some years later I reacted to the news with total indifference- he was out of my system. I think this was due to my mother insisting on our final meeting, I got to see him with more mature eyes and process my feelings about him. So, I think you might consider at least one meeting with your father.Ask him any questions that have always niggled (and there are always niggly questions after the end of any relationship). If you suspect he is being fast and loose with the truth, let him know you're not interested in hearing BS. But I do think you'd benefit from hearing him out, even if you decide afterwards never to see him again. At least then you won't have any "what ifs" that can never be resolved after his death, wondering how things might have gone if......they are the hardest things to deal with after a person dies because then there is no hope of there ever being a resolution.

My mother would tell us that she did not give advice because she was afraid that it might be the wrong advice. That did not stop my father, and a lot of his advice was wrong. He would tell me (when I was in elementary school) not to have so many Chicano friends and to have more white friends. I ignored that advice and told him that I chose friends who were nice to me and that was my main criteria. He could never explain to me why I needed more white friends. I was pretty good at ignoring a lot of what he said, especially if he did not have good explanations, and "because I said so" did not cut it with me.