"Grief never ends ... but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith ... It is the price of love."

I liken grief to waves in the ocean. At first, it's a real storm where these high waves come along and toss you around. The waves come frequently with only short spells to catch your breath in between. Over time, the storm lessens, the waves spread out, become calmer. Some may still knock you over, but more often, you're still standing. Later on, the waves of grief will sometimes lap at your feet or rise to your knees, or waist, but you know them, and actually welcome the memories that they bring. But always, there may be a rogue wave that will come along and knock you over again. That is the nature of grief. When those rogue waves come, I surrender to them completely. Trying to fight or suppress grief will only make it stronger, or make it emerge in other ways such as ill health or anger. Instead, recognize it is a natural part of the process and go with it.

My Mom died in 2010. I broke down just a few weeks ago on my bday because I miss her so much and miss how much fun we'd've had together celebrating...she was always one to celebrate anything as she always knew how precious life was and how important it was to cherish those special times. She loved to have fun. She brought such laughter into my life like no one else I know ever has. I'm so thankful for all the many gifts and learnings and memories she gave me over the years, glad that some part of her still lives in me and in my memories...heck I see her face every time I wash my own, even more so as I've gotten older.

I too have found much ease from meditation. Meditation oasis has free online podcasts you can listen to. They have one specifically for grief and one called beyond pain. You might find them soothing.

mimipadv: "It was beautiful and suddenly, I was at my father's funeral again, walking down the aisle behind his casket.

Wow, cue the waterworks! Fortunately, I can be a silent cryer and went through a couple tissues before it stopped. It really took me aback!"

My father (a minister) has always told me that, 'Every death brings up past deaths." That is why you often hear people express confusion as to why they were so emotional over the passing of someone they knew and liked but weren't particularly close to.

tibbrix- This great aunt was sort of the matriarch of the family, and I'd heard her name a million times, but never actually met her. It was just touching to see the physical evidence of her love and presence through the family.

Sending hugs to you Lynn. Your Mother sounds like a wonderful woman and you obviously shared a special bond. Fortunately you have vivid, beautiful memories that you can cherish forever.

Tibbrix and Annie offered great explanations of grief and how we experience it.

My own Mother was loving but often difficult due of a lifetime of illness and pain. When she died my dear, sweet Dad moved in with us for 4 1/2 years. He had spent the last 20 years of their lives caring for her without ever uttering a single word of complaint.

He's been gone nearly 10 years now and while I've never experienced a meltdown I often find myself with tears in my eyes when I think of him. He was truly a gentle, loving soul.

While he lived with us I learned to appreciate my own husband in a new way. He was patient and attentive and I know he enabled my Dad to live a longer, fuller life. Dad had chronic kidney and cardiac insufficiencies that worsened as he aged and I feel so fortunate that my husband was able to observe him with his practiced eye to asses his health. My father had been on coumadin for 20 years and as a hematologist oncologist my husband was able to monitor his lab work and make frequent adjustments.

Three days before Christmas Dad became incoherent and weak as his kidneys and heart began to fail and we drove him to the hospital. Once on continuous IV meds and fluids he became alert again and asked when he could return home. My husband knew I was unable to tell my father that the end was near without sobbing incoherently and making a difficult situation worse. So he took my father's hands and spoke with him about his long life, his strong marriage, his family, his children and grandchildren and his business achievements and helped him to understand that his days were coming to an end.

My father spoke of all the things that gave meaning to his life. He told us that he was content and prepared. On Christmas he told us that it was his last day and my siblings and all our children spent the day with him. Somehow he knew. That was his final gift to us.

Hugs to everyone. You have related beautiful stories so eloquently. Although I write this with tears in my eyes for both me and you, it is comforting to share this common experience. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my parents or have a conversation in my mind. They are very near but out of reach.

Oh, Lynn, your meltdown is perfectly normal, and like everyone else has said, you will likely have other 'moments'. A dear friend's husband passed away a little over a year ago of PSP. I don't know if you recall we spoke of it on this forum, as I had never heard of it until he was diagnosed.

My dear mother passed away in June '95 after a year and a half battle with cancer. Her last 6 months were particularly hard and it was a blessing for her to have relief from her pain. Even today I still get teary and breakdown on unpredictable occasions. Sometimes I even bring it on, such as when I think of how she would love to be seeing her great-grandbabies and would be so proud of her grandchildren. And of course she comes up often in conversation when my brothers and our families are together and especially when we're cooking! DH's mother died 5 months later after going downhill rather suddenly with a debilitating disease and it was all right back. Then my Dad passed away a little over 2 years later of an aneurysm during surgery. Shocking to say the least.

Tibbrix, thank you for your father's insight. That is so wise and true. I won't say it gets easier, but it perhaps gets less raw over the years.

I always liked what Mitch Albom said...after they pass, it's not that your relationship with them ends, but it changes.

Recommend "Being Mortal" by Atul Gawande.

I am so sorry for your loss. She sounds like a wonderful person and you were so fortunate to have her and all those memories. Grief takes it's own bitter time and we often go through the stages and have many repeats of a particular stage. It's okay and natural. Be kind to yourself. These are tears of healing and closure.

My MIL had this horrible disease, too.

I am sending you a big hug. Remember all she taught you and pass it on. We need more women like that.

I take pride in being a calm, rational person who never cries. My father was my last surviving parent, and like others on this thread, he too had Alzheimer's. He was the epitome of a stubborn Yankee to start with, and the Alzheimer's made his life and mine (as his only child) living hell. He slowly declined, got sick on top of it, suffered....and I too remember quieting thinking to myself, this poor guy is no longer living, it's "time."

The night he died, I cried, I was crushed, but I was also partially relieved.

What has stunned me - absolutely left me gobsmacked - is how his passing has rocked my world.

I like the wave analogy. It comes in waves, at unexpected times, and gets triggered by things that make no sense. And just when you think the storm has passed and the waves are dying down, a huge one can knock you on your butt without any warning.

My mom has been gone since Jan 15 2000. I miss her daily. I do not have tears often anymore. More smiles and good memories. But still sometimes something will touch my heart and tears will come.

Lynn she sounds like such a wonderful person. Think of every tear as a tribute to her. Soon enough the smiles will replace most tears, not all but most.

Never easy losing a mother.

Lynn, every time I've read your thoughts about your mom, it has made me smile. What a special person she is and will always be, to affect those of us so much, who only know her through you. Even if you are "ready" and even if you have a strong support system, losing your mother and losing a person as special as she was, is horrible and traumatic.

Grief is a process that is messy and unpredictable. Rolling waves is the perfect description. I have also heard it compared to the pain of labor; a painful process that is easier when you give yourself over to it.

You are doing the hard, painful work of grieving. You are doing it perfectly and bravely. Be sweet to yourself and let others be sweet to you.

I have nothing to add to the beautiful and wise words that have already been shared here, but I just want to say that I'm sending love and light to all who grieve. Whether your loss is recent and fresh or in time past, I know it can be incredibly powerful. May you each find comfort in unending supply.

Thank you for this thread Lynn, it afforded each person responding to dip in to their poignant memories and share. Sharing feelings is such a positive way to bond and know more about the people in your life. I feel like we have an online connection that has the ability to heal each other in tiny ways.

So sorry Lynn but be prepared. The overwheleming feeling of sadness will sneak up on you when you least expect it.

For me it sometime hits when I am doing something fun with my grandchildren. How my parents would have loved their great-children!

Hang in there, let the tears flow. They will happen less, just not for awhile.

Peace.

The one I grieve for is still alive. 30 years later, I still cry.

Grief really is a bear, and a mean one. But also a necessary one.

My father died in 2013 at age 87, from a disease much like your mother, Lynn. It took his skeletal muscles first, then his dignity, and finally his heart and ability to breathe. He was alert and sharp up until the final two hours, when the morphine kicked in. We were by his side when he died, and I had my hand on his shoulder for about 20 minutes until the hospice nurse got there and confirmed that he had passed. The home health assistant didn't have her stethoscope, so she wasn't 100% sure, and I didn't want to leave him in case he was still in there. I don't think I cried much, because it was a relief. He had been ready to go for a year.

My step mother, who was the only mother I ever knew, died in 2002. So when Dad died, it fell on me to clean out their house. It needed a LOT of work, and we spent the better part of a year fixing it to sell. The day before closing, I walked through one last time. I sat on the basement steps and talked to my parents. I told them I hoped they approved of what we did to the house, we did our best. I told the house to be good for the new owners. And I sobbed and sobbed. 16 months after he had died, I finally cried. I think it really finalized that he was gone, she was gone, and the house was gone. As someone else said above, I had entered a new phase of my life, no longer someone's kid.

And now I'm crying again. I can safely say that almost three years isn't enough.

My 76-year old father lost his parents, both well into their 90s, a few years ago. You might think "you'll get over it" would apply (particularly as it's quite normal for people in their 90s to die), but he seems to have become even more sensitive, more prone to weepiness, more aware of their absence, as times goes on.

I do not for one minute see this as a negative thing.

((((((Hugs)))))) to all.

My mother is 98, alive and kicking remarkably well for her age. I just dropped her off at her volunteer job a few minutes ago. She is so much a part of my life since she depends on me for many things. I am happy to help her. However, I know she cannot last forever and there are times when I wake up in the middle of the night feeling panicked, knowing that her death will be coming some day not far away. I can't even imagine life without her, even though we had a rough relationship when I was younger. I also cringe at the thought of dealing with her estate and clearing out an enormous house. When your parents live to very old ages, you are getting old, too.

Lynn, the description of your mother is so touching. What a woman! Weren't you lucky to have her. It only makes sense that you would have waves of grief from time to time. My mom says she still misses her mother. It really is a tribute to your love for each other. Hugs to you.

Beautiful! Sad, poignant, but so beautiful. That's what each of your recollections are to me, reading them. I want to go through and thank each of you individually, because each of them has touched me deeply, And each has helped me some already. But, I'm tearing up too much right now. I'll continue to read and reread them all, and will talk more later. Many, many thanks!

Lynn, I believe our traditions of death and funerals contribute greatly to what you're feeling. When a loved one dies, we are immediately faced with decisions about funeral and burial details, what to write in the obituary, have we notified all the family and friends? Did we contact all the local papers? What photos should we display at the wake? Are they on the computer or a box in the basement? Is every family member represented in the collage? Should we mention estranged Uncle Charlie in the memorial bulletin? Who should make a speech? And so on.

Then the funeral itself is like a family/friend reunion... we are blessed by visitors we haven't seen for a while, and their presence is touching. They share memories of our loved one, and it's a very special time.

These details and reunions carry us for a while afterward. But they distract us from grieving our loved one, and once the details of death are behind us, we are left with the death itself. This is probably where you are right now. Take special care of yourself and allow yourself whatever time you need to grieve.

(((Lynn))), I don't think you can brace for a meltdown because they seem to appear out of the blue. I have already lost all my beloved older family members. Both parents and both sets of grandparents.

My DF has been gone almost 40 yrs and a few months ago on my way home from the other end of town I passed the rd that we lived on when I was a toddler. I remembered my dad, dressed in his suit and overcoat coming home from work with a box of cream puffs from a local bakery. The memory came out of nowhere, as did the meltdown that followed. I sobbed my eyes out for probably ten minutes. I never felt his loss so deeply as I did in that instant. Once I cried out the grief I sifted through so many wonderful memories and smiled at what a wonderful father I had.

My DM died over twelve years ago. I miss her so much and I know that my grief will never go away. I know in my heart I will see her again but still think of her on an almost daily basis. I was thinking today how much she would love to see that I've gone back to letting my hair go curly without fighting it. I smiled at that thought.

I just wanted to pop back in and say thank-you to everyone for their stories and especially to Lynn for having the courage to start this thread. I've often wondered if I should still be missing my dad and our conversations 20 years after his passing. You guys have basically given me permission to do so. You have no idea how comforting that is to know.

((((HUGS))))

I haven't read all the responses, but for me it has never gone away. Dad died in 2006 and mom died in my arms in 2007, which I was so grateful for as wrenching as it was. She had been ill for quite awhile and on dialysis for 7 years and she was really ready, especially with dad gone. I think of them both nearly everyday and while I may not have a meltdown every time, they are more frequent as I age, definitely more since I've retired and have more time on my hands. So many things I wish I had asked, and written down.

Just allow yourself to do whatever it is you need to do when you need to.

Lynn, this post gas been a gift. My mother's birthday was this week. She would have turned 85. It has been cold and bleak here and I have felt so sad. It's been 2 yrs. since she died from Alzheimer's and I thought I'd be over the hurt of her loss by now, considering how difficult life was for her at the end.

It's been healing and affirming to read all the thoughtful and heartfelt posts above. I hope you've found comfort knowing your feelings are validated and understood.

I will keep you and my other friends here in my prayers.

Meltdowns? Oh, yes. After 28 years I still miss my dad, choke up thinking about him, and my brother, dead now 22 years.

I don't know why Dad did it, but for years he kept my young family supplied in paper towels and toilet tissue. I never needed to buy those things. About a month after he died, I went to the cupboard for a roll of toilet tissue and burst into years when there was none left to get. Dad was truly, really gone.

I guess it's a good thing to have loved and been loved so well.

Sixteen years ago in February, my Dad was admitted to the hospital. Mom and Dad had just told us four kids two weeks prior that he had mesothelioma. Two days later we were told he had just a few days left. The following day, my Mom suffered a major stroke that left her unable to talk and in a wheelchair. I'm convinced it was caused by a broken heart. They were in hospital rooms next to each other. We had to tell Dad what happened to Mom. Dad died four days later. Then we had to tell Mom that Dad was gone. I've always believed that God only hands you what he knows you can handled, but this was cruel.

It wasn't until a year after Dad died that I really mourned his passing. Before that, I had been occupied with my Mom and her care. I went into a depression, but with an understanding husband, got through. We lost Mom eight years after her stroke. While I'm happy we had her for that time, her quality of life was nonexistent. Prior to her stroke, we talked daily on the phone. That's what I missed the most. Just hearing her voice.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of them both. I look in the mirror and see my Mom. Because this all occured around the NH primary in 2000, I get to relive it every four years.

Hugs to Lynn and everyone here for your stories.

Nhbaskets, my mom had Alzheimer's and it took her ability to have a meaningful conversaion long before she was gone. There were so many times both befrore she passed and since that I have wished I could have one more conversation with her. At least one where I get replies. I would have given anything if she could have told me how to deal with my dad better --- he was declining too and we had a nuber of issues leading up to his being in the hospital when she passed. He passed almost 5 months to the day after she did. It was abut a month before my youngest graduated from high school and my poor son had to navigate his senior year, cocllege apps, scholarship apps and auditions largely on his own, Great kid that he is, he did.

Lynn, I wasn't completley myself for maybe a year. I was fully functional -- handled the estate and helped both siblings with things, got my son off to college and such, but there was something that was just different. Just about a year after my dad passed, I went to a funeral for a fellow band parent -- someone we knew and had known or years, but not someone we were very close to. It started to get to me when we sat in the sanctuary of the church, I told DH I might make an exit and sure enough, I lost it as the service began. I spent half of the mass in the bathroom. I was totally unprepared for that. You just don't know.

My Dad died 17 years ago and just last month, out of the blue, I had a bawling fit. I was holding his hand when he passed, and I think I had a typical mourning-but every once in a while, out of the blue, I just miss him so badly.

I think it depends on the person Lynn. I lost my first husband as a young 'girl' at age 27 in a car accident. It took me almost 10 years, and a wonderful understanding second husband to 'get past it', but never over it. My Dad, so full of life and only 73, died very unexpectly from a hospital SNAFU which left my whole family asking why~ the pain still lingers. Mom passed after dealing with Alzheimers for 10 years, and in the last two,not recognizing my sister, brother, and myself. The heartbreak of seeing her body ravaged and knowing she was slowly starving to death by this horrific disease, I prayed every night God would release her of this burden, but what I was really praying for was the release of *my* burden of not being able to 'deal'. 20 years later, and it still feels like yesterday. My second husband, who was 'my rock' and saw me thru these unhappy times passed away 5 years this month of bile duct cancer, 7 months after we found out, 3 months after his retirement, and moving to Tx in our recently completed home. I thought I was prepared *knowing* the end was close, but after 5 years, allow the tears to fall freely and whenever and wherever. Even though the pain I felt losing my loved ones one by one, losing my grandson Zack at 17 was the most devastating blow and the hurt more trenendous than I could ever have imagined~it was 7 years last week. I realize the tears I cry will not bring him back, but this was a loss like no other, or at least comparable to that of my young husband. To mourn the loss of an elderly parent, even one still full of life or a body which can no longer function is pure hell, but the loss of a lively young spirited person.....there are no words. You are so fortunate to have years of memories Lynn! Cherish every one, and *know* it was time. I find it strange that for some reason i've been able to accept this very illogical 'answer' in the untimely loss of these two young men who blessed my life, but it offers me comfort. You will find your comfort Lynn, but your loss will never be forgotten, nor should it be.

patty, so sorry for the devastating losses you have suffered. They do say that losing a child is the worst, but I believe losing a grandchild is the worst of all because not only have you suffered a terrible loss, and the tragedy of losing someone too young, but you have to watch your children suffer the terrible pain that you can't heal of losing a child. The first and only time I was glad that my Mom had already passed was when her grandson died. After having lost her husband and her son to suicide, I was glad to see she didn't have to suffer that third terrible blow. Sending you hugs courage and comfort.

I'm so sorry for your loss. I also empathize with grieving while the person is alive, but you know they're going to pass from the disease.

My mother died in 1982 at age 51 and my father (57) had a major meltdown. Because I was trying to support him, I didn't get the opportunity to grieve for a long time. Then, one day, almost a year later, it really hit me that she was gone.

My father died at 65 and it hit me so hard--my last parent was gone. That grief stayed with me a long time, but since my son was 6 years old, I focused on him and got through it.

My husband died in 2014 at age 60 and the grief is still with me. It comes and goes, but it's there every day. I still have private meltdowns all the time and what I learned on my own, is to not fight it--let it out. I've had times when I knew I was getting close to going over the cliff and I had to pull myself back.

What I found through counseling (that I stopped using because it didn't help me) was that no matter what I said, the counselor said "that's normal." Well, after almost two years, it doesn't feel normal. I think I have complicated grief.

My heart goes out to you.

Lynn, of course, due to the timing of your parents' anniversary and the medical conference you'll be attending, you could become melancholy. But hopefully the hustle and bustle of the events will keep you busy and lessen the opportunity for a meltdown, IYKWIM. But don't feel upset with yourself if it does happen, either!

I lost my mother in 2002, while she was with me on a vacation to Arizona. She died very unexpectedly (at age 70) of a massive stroke, literally in the middle of sentence. She had sat beside me on the plane for the flight there, chatting the whole 4 hours about how much she was looking forward to this trip. She died 2 days before our flight home, so her seat was empty beside me, making the return trip so silent, in comparison to my trip there. To this day, whenever I fly alone, I'm actually thankful when I don't have an empty seat beside me, or I'm reminded of the trip back from Arizona to Canada, with my mother's seat empty. I never try to chat with my seatmate (unless they start the conversation) but I'm just happy to have someone sitting beside me.

I still cry at random times, but not nearly as much as during the 'first' of every occasion we used to celebrate together. As so many others have said, there is no timetable or schedule for grief, so don't be concerned about that. I'm comforted by the words "No one is every truly gone, unless they are forgotten." You will never stop missing your mother, but she will always be with you in your heart, because she will never be absent from your memories. My thoughts are with you.

Lynn...beautiful description of your mother. She sounds like a wonderful woman...I love that you felt her presence.

Dear friends it's ok to be sad. This life is short and soon well have forever to be with the people we love. You have time to meet all those that were before you and all those yet to be born. I miss my grandparents so much! I can't wait to see them again.

Be the best person you can be right now and be happy for every day with The ones who love you. I am sorry that people have to experience pain and suffering. I wish we could be free of it in life but I know that those who have gone on are understanding for us and I am happy for them to be in their forever life.

I've read each and every comment, and my heart goes out to all of you for your losses. I was close to all four of my grandparents, and luckily 3 of 4 lived into their 90s. One (76yo) was hit and killed crossing the street with her sister - she lived, but was never the same again. I still get teary-eyed when thinking all of them.

My parents are still living, but my mom 82yo was diagnosed with Parkinson's about 7 years ago. Dad has help during daytime hours. My sister retired to help him 3 days. It is hard on everyone watching her deteriorate in front of our eyes, to not be able to do anything about it. She has some confusion, but still knows all of us. Her father had Alzheimer's, so I worry about that for her, but so far it's not showing. She doesn't need another problem.

I miss the conversations we used to have. They are now one-sided for the most part. She has lost most of her voice, so phone calls are not doable. I can still make her laugh sometimes, and she cracked herself up about a month ago. It's not the same joyous laughter, but at least it's something. The last few months, she isn't swallowing well. Same as her father, and we all know the outcome. Being a prisoner of your own body has to be pure torture, but Dad and I had a nice talk this week (I try to keep him sane) and we decided the mind doesn't let her realize how bad she really is... at least we hope not.

Not to hijack, but is anyone watching The Story of God on National Geographic channel? Morgan Freeman travels the world, uncovering the meaning of life and God to various religions. It just started last Sunday and while I am not deeply religious, I found it very interesting. It is a five part series. The second part airs tonight, so maybe the first part can be watched online or will be repeated today.

I definitely meant to watch The Story of God. Thank you for the reminder, Allison.

Lynn, my heart is breaking for you and I'm so sorry for your loss. This is a very emotional thread and much too hard to read in it's entirety. I couldn't make it through it all and even needed a day before coming back to post. What really sticks out to me though is that regardless of how old we are, we are still our parent's children and that love is forever bonding. Sure, as time passes things will get easier but there will always be an empty spot and feeling of loss. It's been almost 40 years since we (4 sisters and I) lost our dad, he was 47 and still crazy in love with our mother. They had just celebrated their 25th anniversary and after a life time of strict budgets and hardwork, they could finally afford to spoil themselves a bit. One morning in July, he kissed our Mom good bye and off to work he went. He was in a work related accident that day and passed a few days later. Three of the 5 girls were still living at home and I still don't know how my mother made it through, her strength was incredibly remarkable.

Our ages ranged from 24 down to 10 and his death has affected each one of us all a little differently. Time has helped to heal some more than others but there still isn't a visit or conversation between us where he's not mentioned or remembered. This too I feel is normal.

I was 18 at the time and my daughter (his only grandchild) was just 9 months. I continued to have melt downs until about 15 years after his death. Then one night after a pretty bad one, I dozed off and can still vividly remember him coming to me in a dream. He was standing in the kitchen of our house in a blue suit he'd wear to work. I walked into the room and he turned and looked right at me. No words were spoken but I instantly knew everything was ok. He was still with us in spirit and watching over us. He knew his family loved and missed him but he didn't want us sad. When I woke, I understood that instead of mourning for him, I should be celebrating him and the memories we had with him. Ever since then that's what I do. When I feel sad, I try to remember a happier time and honor his life. And while most people think I'm nuts for feeling this way, I honestly believe he is watching over us and even guiding us (through intuition) to make the right choices or decisions when we come to a cross roads. Too many weird things have happened to call it coicidence. I sincerely believe that if you don't already, as time passes you will feel your Mom's presence and know instictively that she is with you. But in the meantime, allow yourself the space to have the meltdowns and heal. It really is all a part of the process. {{{Hugs from Michigan}}}

Lukkiirish, I'm sorry for your loss. Your mom must have been or became a strong woman. I believe their souls are with us. My grandmother (the one that died tragically) came to me in a dream and told me she was okay, was where she wanted to be and not to worry about her anymore.

DD2 and I were at a large grocery store - the kind with a center aisle that cut through all the long aisles - and looked down and skipped an aisle. We didn't turn to go down it since nothing there was needed. We both saw a man that looked exactly like my mother's dad. We stopped and looked at each other, but no words were needed. We backed up to see him again but he was gone.

I went out of state to visit/stay with a friend for a few days whose DH had passed away suddenly. After I woke up one morning, but wasn't out of bed, I clearly heard him say "hello, Allison."

Just a few of many stories I am sure a lot of us have experienced.

Thank you Allison, seeing my father that one time gave me the peace I needed so desprately. I know that seeing your mother in her current state must be so painful and difficult. My mother is 84 now and although in good shape for her age, she has her battles and has slowed considerably over the past couple of years. She's always been an amazing example for us to follow and was a Navy wife for many years before my dad's passing. The skills she learned probably helped her cope, but I have to say, I never really appreciated her strength as much as I do now that I'm older. It's never easy, no matter how we loose our loved ones or how prepared we may be, just the knowledge that we will loose her one day is quite upsetting.

Lynn just a big hug going out to you from me here in MI. I lost my mother to a fall/head injury a little over a year ago. It was much harder on my dad, who like Lukkiirish's mom, said goodbye to her after having lunch together as they both went off to run errands, and in an instant his whole world turned upside down. He returned home to find her comatose from a fall and she died a few hours later. He never imagined such a thing could happen, and he blames himself for not going shopping with her or coming home earlier, even though neither one of them was doing anything out of the ordinary. Dad has been having a very hard time because he feels like he needs to "snap out of it" and "get over it" and he just can't. He is sad and grieving every day. So am I, sort of. It does come in waves. The human mind has to adapt and change with grief. If you are going to continue to function, you have to make peace with the loss and adapt to it. It's like a mind training program, or rehabilitation, or a wound healing. You have your good days and bad days. It's a process. Some days the memories flood in, that's just how the mind works, things trigger it. But I think everyone should realize that there is no shame or harm or problem with grieving and crying and just being sad. If you try and suppress it you will be like my dad who is suffering from all sorts of mental problems. Crying and feeling sad are the natural responses. You can't will them away. You have to move through them. What helps me is that I have wonderful and supportive friends and family It helps me to do things in honor of my mom. It helps me to be with folks who also knew and loved her and missed her. But I cry all the time and I have just learned to accept it. But I try and mentally engage myself with doing something positive. I told my dad it is OK to feel very sad. But no amount of crying or sadness will change the situation, so doing things like staying in bed or not eating or whatever, will not make it better. Just trying to get through each day, and do what you can. Just remember that you are in a big boat. The price of loving. The wellspring of compassion. But folks who tell you to be brave or not be sad, well they don't know what they are talking about!! Much better to melt down occasionally than bottle it all up. I know lots of people who go through depression and major mental readjustments after the death of a parent. That's the way of the world, that is our lot! I always advise folks to be kind and gentle with themselves, compassionate, and not try and be superhuman robots!

Luckily my mom died during a slow time at work and I had a supportive boss and co-workers. I'm still not on my A-game, so I think you should again, be easy on yourself and not over schedule or try and take on some huge new project or direction at work. Scale back a bit if you can. Your mojo will come and go to, and sometimes mine comes back with a vengeance and other times I am totally feeling blah. Sine mom has died, I have become much more of a "one day at a time" and "one moment at a time" kind of person than I was before.

I'd like to thank each and every one of you who took the time to share with me, and all of us here on this forum, about your own losses and how you've coped. Thank you also for your kind thoughts, prayers and the many words of wisdom. Please know that, although I haven't answered each post individually, I am rereading each post pretty much every day. They bring me such comfort. I've also shared much of your advice with my sisters and brothers. They, too, have benefited from it. Although I, of course, am very aware that I'm not alone in losing a loved one, sharing our stories here has helped me so much in understanding this mourning and healing process. I hope it has helped you all, as well. Thank you!

Be open to hearing from your Mom. She may come to you in unusual ways...in dreams...in animals...in song...in sensations or feelings...in fragrances...in memories from others...even in uncovering items or papers she's left behind. If you are open to these things, you will find much comfort in them.

Annie, it's funny you should mention papers left behind. In flipping through an old book, I found a to-do list that my mother had written, then used as a bookmark. I keep it, just because it's in her handwriting.

My cousin had called me looking for the address of someone we knew. She didn't have it, I didn't have it, but I said, wait, let me check Mom's address book and there it was. So even after she passed, she was still helping out.

One of my "cover photos" for my Facebook page, a shelf in mom's office, with her calendar planners from 1999 to 2015. She had all of them in a stack except the last one, which she left with two weeks worth of activities planned ahead. The clock was grandma's. Some of my friends said, "Just throw them out and move on!" I will someday, but right now they are fine in that space, I don't need it yet.

I need to stop typing on my (sometimes stupid) smart phone. I am a decent writer but a not-so-great checker of typos. Just for the record, Grosse Pointe does have an "E" at the end of each word. I've known how to spell it pretty much my entire life.

Lynn,

I'm so sorry for the loss of your dear mother. I think crying is good for you, so just let it run its course.

I have dreams with my Dad fairly often. He passed away before my kids were born, rather suddenly. Initially the dreams were sometimes scary, but now it is just as if he is alive and we are spending time together. It's nice. My Mom says I am lucky, she wishes she would dream about him but hasn't.

When my Dad first passed, one of my first thoughts was that I had lost the person I relied on most for advice, on anything and everything. It struck me, beyond the obvious love and affection, that I was losing ... a resource. All those things he knew, all the help he gave, all the experience and anecdotes he would share, had vanished. Somehow you always thought he'd be there.

I make a point of telling my kids stories about him, so that he is still there, in his way. It is fun to see his traits in my kids sometimes.

I guess the way I look at life though, is that once you lose a loved one, life is always just a little bit "less" than it could have been. It can never be 100% again because they are gone, even if it can be 99%.

I try to balance that with appreciation and gratitude, because my Dad had much of both. A large and sometimes gruff businessman, he also loved flowers, porcelain, carousel horses. He liked to birdwatch and knew their names and songs. He would have loved to live any day that had a bird in it. I try to remember that.

Thinking of you, Lynn. Grieving is very hard, and it is not linear and does not have a timetable. May your wonderful memories of your mom sustain you and your family.