JCC death thread

i'm with my dad in hospice. he has terminal liver cancer and i thought it'd be good to give people the space talk about death and how you might've dealt with death in the past.

i've successfully psychologically depersonalized and removed myself from the situation, but obviously there'll come a point where this is over and i'm no longer acting as a caregiver when it'll collapse around me. or maybe i've successfully prepared myself. difficult to say when you're living through it with him.

but i want this to be focused on what other people have gone through versus "sorry your dad's dying," although the sentiment is certainly appreciated.

how has death impacted your lif(v)e(s)

 

How and why have you psychologically depersonalized?

 

being caregiver for a parent, or anyone, with cancer is tough, maybe not worse than actually having cancer, but I wouldn't wish either on anyone.

 

@Bacon164 - About 5 years ago I lost a mentor, who was only 4 years older, to cancer. It was very difficult to see someone who had for years helped me professionally become who I needed to be and who over many late night beers had explained things in a detail that made sense and helped, wither away to a jaundiced, emaciated shell in too great a pain to even talk. He used to still worry about me, about other colleagues, everyone else but himself then.

Workplaces here typically offer access to employee programmes that provide counselling services and the like, and I found discussing it with a professional helped. I didn't need help getting through a depression or anything, it was honestly just good to have a stranger to lend perspective.

I don't cry often. The last time I cried was at his funeral, it broke me. I think know what you mean about depersonalising it - you have to be the strong one for them, to ease their unease etc? If so, then I'd just say find someone you can unload your thoughts and concerns to afterwards. Preferably a stranger so there's no historic connection to either party. Though a professional, not just someone with the misfortune to have sat next to you on a bus.

 

My dad has vascular dementia and was classified for palliative care a few months ago. Mom and I have been his full time caregivers for over 3 years. He is in no pain, never complains, good spirits, but totally helpless, can't do anything for himself. We have no idea if this will continue for years or be over tomorrow. Thankfully, we have home care workers who come for 2 hours a day, and nurses check on us once a week. But it's still exhausting. On bad days I think "Enough already," but Dad is still happy to be living at home, so we're still carrying on.

I wasn't there when my mom's dad died; she said it was the most peaceful thing she'd ever seen. I hope it's the same for Dad.

 

My mother died in 2002. I absolutely know what you mean by depersonalization. You pretend it’s not really real, or that it’s happening to someone else, for as long as you can. Or as long as you have to in order to make things sort of comfortable for the dying person. After my mom’s funeral, I slept for 3 days. Then I had to get up and work on me. I won’t lie, it sucked. Staying busy and productive helped, as did giving myself permission not to fret about every little responsibility or chore. I focused on getting done what absolutely had to be done, and that’s it. I really wish I had better words of comfort for you, but sadly I don’t.

Edit: well, maybe I do. If this is your first major death, be aware that the worst of the misery will pass. You never really get over a significant death, but you learn to live around it.

 

@Ender Sai You'll see that @poor yorick has a more accurate articulation of what I mean. But it sounds like you had this exact experience with your mentor. My dad's still behaving like that with his coworkers– offering his perspective or insight for whoever wants to come by.

Crying has actually been an issue for me, because I want to but usually find myself physiologically unable, which, as a man, I still don't completely understand. Why can't I cry? I know for me it's because there is an extremely strong connection between anger and crying– so my solution is to not get angry. I wonder if that blocks the ducts completely. Either way, it's a problem. The only time I can bring myself to cry is when he cries, as if the alpha male's the only one who can open the floodgates.

@Healer_Leona I really can't imagine doing that for ten years. This was 19 months, and though I've only been in caregiving mode since he got back from the hospital after the final prognosis, the full 19 months have felt surreal. I'm sorry your kids have issues communicating with you about it, and I hope they can get to a better understanding of the situation.

@Sarge My grandmother is in the final stages of dementia. She's been in assisted living for a number of years, initially with her husband, and after he died, she's never been able to absorb it, so she's constantly wondering where he is. In some ways, that was a blessing and a curse. I hope your Dad finds peace in the end too.

@poor yorick I have nothing lined up immediately after the funeral and that time is what scares me. You nailed what I mean about depersonalization... but the weird thing is I'm making no effort to do it. It just feels like some mask my mind is making for me. I feel like I'm in a bubble where this period will never end, even though at this point, it could end at any time.

Thx for your thoughts errbody. Don't worry about @Coruscant– I PMed him and basically explained what @poor yorick said.

 

the best part of your post is the way the signature flows from the rest Bacon <3

 

I lost my Grandma Ma in December 2016, on the 19th anniversary of my Grandpa Pa's death and a few days before the anniversary of their oldest son's death. I tried to be there almost every day she was in the hospital and then in hospice, and I was always around cousins and aunts while I was there (they had 7 kids, 12 grandkids including me, and 10 great-grandkids so far). I wasn't there when she passed, but we were there within a half-hour of her death. She was 89, but relatively healthy, and went quickly, still with her sense of humor.

Then I lost my Grandma this past October 2017. She had been physically suffering for the past 4 years, since her 90th birthday exactly, and passed away at 94 years old. She was also the last of her 7 siblings, the last of her friends (besides 2 that had Alzheimer's), and my Grandpa had passed away 15 years earlier. The few times she did make a new friend in the last few years, the friend died, both of her next-door-neighbors on both sides of her house died, and she was very lonely. My grandma had I think photographic memory to the end, definitely better memory than me, which if anything made all the loss and the health issues of old age even tougher on her. She had been saying for a few years that she was prepared to die, but her concern for my dad mostly kept her going, and she was so strong I don't think she knew how to stop until the bladder cancer. Even brain cancer hadn't stopped her 15 years earlier, right after my grandpa died. She and my grandpa had only 1 kid, my dad, and it's just me, and my younger sister who was in New Zealand, and my dad isn't the best at talking about his feelings and prefers to drink when he's sad, so I was the main one taking care of her when she was in the hospital and then moved to hospice. Her nieces and nephews, my dad's cousins, are all spread over the country, so only a few were able to visit, with just one nearby who visited every day. So it was a really different experience, though some from my mom's side did visit too, it was much more alone. For the last 3 days or so, which were really tough because that's when she could no longer talk, I didn't leave her side. My Grandma died as I was holding her hand, while talking with her niece about my Grandma's siblings and her childhood home, telling her of good memories and the people she loved and happy images. It was so peaceful I'm still not sure when the moment was, because of long gasps between breaths at the very end. I've since moved into her house, taking my time, going through everything in it, which has been really cathartic.

Going through pictures of both of them, the old family albums, has been really cathartic, and I've put up pictures of them, some of their favorite things or things that remind me of them, throughout the house, as well as of my grandfathers and other family members who have passed away. Everyone mourns differently, but if I had any advice, it would be to just allow yourself to mourn and not shut out anyone else there who can support you, and maybe they need your support too. I'm glad I was able to hold my grandma's hand when she died. She might have been drugged with painkillers, but she tried to join the conversation about her siblings and childhood home in literally her last minute of life, so I know she was still in there, listening.

Also, it's weird, but I also wasn't able to cry for my Grandma Ma until I left her casket at the funeral, and for my Grandma about a half-hour after she actually died and my parents arrived and were crying. I wondered why that was until I finally did cry, because I had always been kind of sensitive especially as a kid who'd even cry when I saw another kid just sad. It's just part of the way I've learned to process and accept death, I guess. Maybe it's because I've just found a way to accept death by now of at least older loved ones? I don't know.

Also, there's often many little things that still remind me of both of them, and there were a lot immediately after they died in the first few months. I would just say don't be afraid to vocalize it, and mention it in an offhand way to others. It helped me and the others around me, allowed us to talk about them again in a way that wasn't sad.

I'm very sorry for what you're going through. I hope sharing my experiences might have helped you in some way.

 

My mother passed away from cancer two and a half years ago. I can say I'm still not over it and fall into deep bouts of depression. Doubt I'll ever fully recover from it. But I make the best out of life that I can. Having a young child helps motivate me to stay positive and keep it moving. My worst times are at night when I'm alone with my thoughts. I've managed to avoid using alcohol as a failing crutch. But I've certainly used benedryl and NyQuil as a means to calm my mind and put me down for the count.

 

Really sorry to hear, Cam.

I'm... not good at coping with death, to the point I've been avoiding this thread for something like six hours. The idea of eventually losing my loved ones fills me with dread.

Love you, Vin

 

I lost my first stepfather (the man who actually raised me) to repeated strokes and heart attacks.

He could be such an abusive jerk, but deep down there was a good person. Ironically, it wasn't dissimilar to that Roseanne episode.

He damaged me. At the same time I love and miss him. He got his punishment. Whatever.

 

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I dissociate. Emotions are switched off, I go numb and feel empty/hollow. It almost feels like a minor out of body experience, I feel slightly outside myself. It's not something I have to try to do, it's not something that I can fail at, it's just automatic.

Btw this might be something that might not change immediately after the funeral, it could take a while.

I deeply regret leaving things unsaid, and yet I continue to do so. I feel a need to say these things, but I fear I will never be able to say that which others deserve to hear but I have never said.

 

I was the primary care give for my mom and dad at the ends of their lives. I completely shut their loss off and buried it-you learn how to do that working in emergency services since you were 18. I'll tell you this, I'm the worse for it.

Embrace the full range of the emotions when you can, in the now and don't wait for it to sneak up on you. Nothing good comes from that. I implore you to grieve openly and fully and not stow it away somewhere.

 

I had two close friends die of pancreatic cancer. The suffering they experienced was intense. What I learned was that the best part of death is being dead, but those parts in the months prior to being dead are likely to be beyond miserable, both for the die-er and the family and friends. Being able to embrace death as a bringer of release from suffering is a mentally taxing challenge. Everyone who lives on and experiences the relief of having someone they love die when that was the only way out from pain and agony gets a big fat bundle of grief and guilt to contend with. So yeah. Embracing that sense of relief without guilt is I think a gold standard, and what I would hope for my family members when it's my turn to die. I plan to tell them that if I get that kind of rotten ****** death.

But for me, and I know I've mentioned this before more than once, so apologies, the perfect death would be to have a tree fall on me while I'm walking down the Champs-Élysées. The Odon von Horvath death. We all know it's coming. We flee Berlin. We flee Vienna, but those ****ing Nazis are still on the march. What do we have to do to get away from this goddam thing? Cue the tree branch.

 

My condolences, Bacon.

I've been lucky that both of my parents are still around and healthy. One of my grandparents died before I was born, but for the other three I was around. One when I was in college, and the other two after that. My grandfather was the last to go. When we got a call saying that he had one or two days left, we rushed overnight to his hospital in VA... he actually met my infant daughter for the first time in the morning and then died later that same afternoon.

My wife's father died from liver cancer. She, her mother, and her sister took turns sitting with him at his bedside. He passed away during my wife's shift.

 

About 4 years ago my Uncle died .
A day later we found out it was suicide . It was quite a shock . Most of the family wouldn't believe it , he was catholic and he just didn't seem the type , he was always making a joke of things etc.
We had to sort his house out and altho I knew his house was a mess seeing the rest of the house really revealed a depressive state , he hadn't cleaned in years ( he lived alone , never married ) it was just appalling .

And of course I thought : I wish I'd realised and done more to help him , but then again I didn't know , and actually I had helped him quite a bit , I was always doing his garden , and it was frustrating because he'd just let me, he wouldn't pitch in , my mother often had a go at him for drinking , but I always thought - well what else has he got ? Leave him be .

I think he just got stuck , and then it was a case of nothing but more and more illness and being alone .
.

 

My dad passed when I was just fifteen of a massive heart attack. No one knew that he had health issues. He was in his late forties. It was brutal. I'll never forget waking up in the middle of the night to hear my mom screaming and then trying to perform CPR. That sound is . . . seared into my brain. I used to have minor panic attacks every time I would think about those sounds. I don't anymore. But that's probably the most painful memory actually surrounding the death itself.

I think I had, all things considered, a pretty healthy grieving process, though I was plagued by anger issues for a significant time after and, while it wasn't the only factor, I think the loss played into that. The grieving process really brought me and my mother together in a profound way. She suffered a kind of extended grief/depression for years, but she pushed on and did what she had to do and found joy where she could. I think she's the strongest person I know.

 

There are a lot of excellent posts to respond to here– thank you all so much for sharing your experiences.

My dad passed away June 8th after being in a coma for 36 hours or so. In a moment, time went from existing in a vacuum to a horserace. I feel like I woke up and it was suddenly the 19th. The way our experiences warp our perception of time has been the strangest part of this experience.

The bubble hasn't popped either. It still only feels real in very small moments where I realize for a moment that the most dependable figure in my life has vanished in the blink of an eye.

The world's completely different, but I remember it's only my perception that's changed and skewed.

I can't make sense of it.

Does anyone have experience with completely incompetent funeral homes?

 

Oh for ... I'm sorry @Bacon164 that you have to deal with an incompetent funeral home on top of everything else.

 

My dad died in 1967 when I was too young to remember him. It's an oddly surreal thought that I didn't know how exactly he died until my mum died a few years ago. She told us it was a road accident (which it was) but it took my aunt about a year after my mum died to explain the exact circumstances.

Similarly, I had another aunt that died about 20 years ago and only found out from her eldest son, when we took my mum's ashes back to Ireland, that she had committed suicide.

I have had a few family members comment that the Irish don't like to talk about these sorts of things... I don't know if that's true, but there may be something in it I suppose.

 

I'm so sorry for your loss, Bacon. Grief does indeed turn life into Bizarro-world for a while, but you do eventually find a new normal. When my mom died, the fake eulogy done by the funeral home director was horrible. He mixed up my mother's and aunt's names (what a surprise for my aunt to find out she was dead), and forgot me, my mom's firstborn, when talking about her kids. The funeral wasn't the most painful part of the process, but it still kind of pisses me off to this day. I'm sorry to hear that you're going through something similar.

 

@Bacon164 sorry to hear about your father's passing. You have my deepest condolences.

My father passed away from nearly 20 years ago from some rare type of stomach cancer. I remember the day the doctor called our house to let us know about the test results and how much time my dad had left. I cried for hours just hearing the news. I'm teary eyed as I type this as I remember that painful day. My father had lived six more months after that call. It was heartbreaking to see him everyday and watch his health deteriorate very quickly. I mean, this was a man that I grew up admiring and work physically hard all his life and then watch him become more ill and frail with each passing day. I was so angry and frustrated with his illness and that he was dying. I sometime would let it show and take it out on him. I just hated seeing my dad like that, and so, I had terrible bedside manners during his home hospice care. Although, at the time, I didn't realize I was acting this way in front of or towards my dad. Perhaps I was stuck in the second stage of the five stages of grief, as I knew there was no bargaining and I preferred to be mad instead of depressed. It was years later after my father passed away that I learned about this. My mother told me that my father preferred my younger brother attend to him because he was more patient and gentle. It crushed me to hear this. I was not a good son to my father in his last months and I totally regret my behavior.

Every time I see on TV or in a movie some footage about a father and son, I tear up and then have an ugly cry, as I remember my dad and him teaching how to fish, ride a bike, drive a car and so on. I keep my dad with me; especially days when I'm stuck in grid lock traffic or having a bad day at work because he did a horrible 2 hour commute to and from work for a better part of 30 years for his family and he hated his job that he drove to. So, when I having a horrible commute or a wretched day at work, I would think about what my dad had to deal with when he was working and it helps me gain perspective and move on.

To also keep my dad with me, I kept all his tools and use them. I have like a 40 year old electric drill, which I could easily replace with the newer cordless drills but don't because every time I use my dad's tools it reminds of him and it's like he's there with me.

The pain of his death never goes away, really. I don't want it to because it reminds me of how much I miss him and love him. I rather have that pain than not remembering him, or having memories of him fade. Which why that movie Coco was painfully cathartic as it deals with souls remaining alive only as long as they are remembered by the living.

There are some days when I really miss my dad and I have moments when I look in the mirror and I see him at the my current age in the reflection. I see his tired eyes. But I also see the man helped shape; a man who loves his wife and puts other before him. My reflection is a result of my dad's love, care and guidance.




I am, because he was.