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There are supposed to be 5 defined stages of grief which we all(more or less) go through. Although I have not read it, the book Elephant Whisperer is supposed to show even animals - elephants know what death is and pay their respects. I hope to read it soon.
So, it is natural to pass through these stages of grief. People often say that we cannot change the situation but we can change ourselves and our attitude to the situation which presents itself to us. I try and see life as a learning journey so I approach each event as a lesson to learn something from it. It helps to make me realize that nothing is a personal attack on me and every situation both 'bad' and 'good' is there for me to grow.
Thinking that something is a personal attack does not help anything but create more anger and resentment in us which opens ourselves up to stress, lowered immune system. and eventually disease. So, it is important that we try to release the trauma and move on with our life if we can. It is OK to have help with that too.
Rather than cross-posting I will point to this post which mentions the Monroe Institute. They have helped many people understand (without religious overtones) we are more than just a physical lump of flesh.
Still grieving the loss of my folks at 91 and 94. When they first died, I hated the arrival of each new day, it felt as though each day took me one day further away from the time when my folks were still on this earth. And as great an age as they lived to be, and as many happy years as our family had, and as much as you tell yourself that they would have ended up suffering if they had lived longer, you’re still ending up having to move on in your life without people who were so very important to your happiness. The protest that keeps coming to my mind is, “but we weren’t bothering anybody.” We kept our heads bowed under the radar, no big impacts, just living contented and uneventful lives. We weren’t bothering anybody. So why did death have to notice us?
If any of you have seen The Seventh Seal, it made the point that we argue with death in many ways, but in only one case did it work. And it wasn’t for a frail old couple of 91 and 94.
Any discussion points you guys have put up in your own minds to berate death for its interference? Even as ineffective as, but we weren’t bothering anybody.
You were left an orphan, or that's what I'm "ASSuming" could be the issue.
My dad died at 69, talk about unfair, he only retired a few years before, just built a house by me, we had plans, cancer changed those plans. He was diagnosed a week before his new house 7 blocks from me closed, it closed the day after his 69th birthday. How cruel is that that he couldn't even attend the closing? I had to do it.
I feel like an orphan. When my dad died, the family split apart. I don't speak to anyone, it's actually mutual. It's my mothers loss. She's now in her 80's, she's lost her first born who she adopted out. Thanks to me finding him, she had almost 10 years with him before brain cancer took him. 5 months after my brother died, my mothers only living brother died on my birthday, yet that was not a sign for her to try to make peace with me.
Back to arguing with death. I do that. I ask why my father chose to not do a paternity test with me until 2 hours before he died. It took a month for them to come out. I was going to donate stem cells to him when it came out he may not be my father which is comical because I'm the blond haired, gray, blue eyed version of him. So is my son. I even have the same genetic defects he had. No matter how much I cried and begged he said he didn't need it, but I did.
We were very close, even though he knew that fact. So the hurt is very deep.
My dad has been gone 16 years, 7 months and 7 days. Every day I "argue with death". I know I'll never get an answer, but still I argue. Maybe one day I'll have an "A ha moment" where it will make sense. Either it really did not matter to him or he was afraid to find out I was not, which is hilarious.
I'm sorry for your loss of your parents. No one knows how a death will affect them until it happens.
I don't personally believe that we go through prescribed stages of grief and then it's resolved. To me, grief is like high tide - it ebbs and flows but it does eventually become manageable. The tide goes out but the mark is always there and the water is always there.
I also believe that death is a part of life, but just a part. Personally I believe life goes on, but in a different form - I don't believe it just ends. I also believe that we can learn from death here on this earth, and help others as they face it.
Back in '79, (I had just met my future wife a few months before) my family had two dogs. One was old and ready to meet her Maker. The other was a pup. They were family dogs, and only named "Mother" and "Pup." Mother became ill and died within a day of whatever malady was upon her. She died underneath her favorite tree in the backyard.
Pup was indeed a youngster, barely a teenager in dog years and just under a year old.
He laid on the exact spot Mother died and refused to move. My family couldn't get him to eat, so they'd haul him inside the house by picking him up, carrying him in the house, and setting him in front of his dish. He still would not eat. He'd just mope at the door that we refused to open until he ate, moaning to go back to the tree. Eventually they would let him out. Pup would return to his spot under the tree.
I had moved out of the familys' main house and my future wife and I had our own place, but we'd go by the house and visit every few days. Pup was always there, under that tree. About a week into this, they took him to the vet. There was nothing wrong with the dog, at least physically.
Pup died about two weeks after Mother. I'll never forget it. No-one could make him eat, no-one could ease his broken heart. We buried him next to Mother under that same tree.
My girl kitty was inconsolable for months after my male Maine Coon died. I thought I was going to lose her. She would go sleep in the last place he slept constantly. I learned after that I should have let her see his dead body. Because from her perspective he disappeared and she kept looking for him and sunk into a deep depression. I would have bounced back faster from losing Mr. Bugs if it weren't for my other kitty mourning so deeply (he mothered her because she was a kitten taken away from her mother too soon). He was a big hulk and she was about 3 ounces when I got her (he was 22 pounds).
Migrating birds fly towards the setting Sun leaving behind no trace whatsoever.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
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