Superficially well, but still grieving. . . part 2
October 2009
The colder weather and darker days
accentuate my sense of grief. My father died in July and it feels
as though Summer-time never came. The time spent visiting him in
hospitals, searching prostate cancer on every website before the
inevitable loss has consumed nearly all of this year. For too long
I was waiting for something to happen which I did not want but
could not prevent. Once the worst had happened – when my father
died, the bereavement process took its own course and I accepted
all its demands. Now I am further into mourning I can explain the
changes, challenges and intense feelings that may continue for some
time yet.
I thought that I would cry heavily and
for long periods even after the initial days and weeks. But the
tears feel as though they are blocked. Six weeks after my dad’s
death I had one burst of uncontrollable sobbing and shaking -
scared of what force had hit me. It was reassuring to later hear
from my community psychiatric nurse that this was a grief reaction
and not a sign that I was losing my sanity. Often a single tear
rolls down my cheek as I experience how much I miss my dad and I
accept that this is the way I grieve. More free-flowing tears may
be triggered again and I won’t hold back as I know that crying
releases deep emotions.
It is important to respect that how I feel is how I feel. This
can change each day, some days I curl up in a ball under a duvet,
on others I come across as able to relate to people. I worry that I
drift into ‘self pity’ but I can accept this isn’t wrong. A few
people try to jolly me along or change the subject and even suggest
I needn’t use the local cancer centre which is offering me support,
in case it reinforces my experience of dad’s illness. When one
person said my dad’s death was a ‘happy release’ I replied in
strong terms that this was not the case. None of these responses
offer consolation or insight. ‘It’s only early days’ loses its
meaning with overuse. I wonder when will it cease to be ‘early
days’ and can I expect the same understanding when this happens? It
makes me afraid that my loss will not be seen as valid later on so
I should pack all my grief in now. I want a real conversation minus
clichés. Better still would be a listening ear, someone to
empathise and validate my feelings – to say they realise what an
ordeal it is for me. It feels as though many people stop asking how
you are only a few short weeks after losing a parent and you are
expected to get on with life. I appreciate those who do still ask
first and are interested in how life is going.
The three month mark has been perhaps the hardest time. I
expected to be coping better but could feel a sense of
hopelessness. Other losses resurface of years gone, regrets,
chances lost through ill health and life events. My sharpened
awareness of the fact I have only a small family, one third of whom
I lost with my dad, has also been shattering. But I still have the
option to reinvent myself and form relationships as life continues.
I understand that this depressed phase is temporary as with the
other grief transitions.
Dreams can bring up my dad, especially when I was in the
earliest stages of grief. I would dream that he was not paralysed
by his cancer and we were able to take walks together. I dreamed
that there would be treatment that could buy us time. The ‘What
if?’s occur within dreams and conscious thought. I wish he
had lived longer or had been able to stay in the hospice for more
weeks, though I can accept there is no way of changing the past
order of events. I can feel grateful for the good coincidences that
led to opportunities and closeness. While I don’t feel disturbed by
the dreams, I find it helpful to talk to my CPN about their
content. I now accept the dreams as my mind’s way of working
through this ultimate loss.
Grieving can be tiring though sometimes I have bursts of energy.
At other times the only way I can fuel movement is through chaotic
eating. It helps to find time to relax and try to think of
something I would like doing as a respite. However, finding
interest or pleasure from anything is much harder. I am getting
over a heavy cold, something fairly common when run down during
bereavement.
When I go out I sometimes see male strangers who look like my
dad. At times I find it hard to talk to anyone around my dad’s age
as I want so much for it to be him and to be able to discuss the
things we should be sharing together. I wonder am I taking on his
personality if I am disorganised or too much into his favourite
music. I see aspects of him in myself, such as gestures and
personality.
My sense of guilt has shifted from the sense I could have done
more to assist my dad to now reflecting on the past. For a time I
blamed myself for my long illness, remembering hospital stays
beginning as a teenager that separated us and caused him alarm. I
have since stopped this train of thought as it is only punishing
myself without reason, I remember instead his sense of pride at the
woman I am now.
The ongoing emotional impact is complicated by the practical
problems that need to be resolved. My dad’s house had to be cleared
in part, which was far more demanding given he had problems with
compulsive hoarding, a trait of obsessive compulsive disorder. A
lifetime’s possessions, most of them without significance to
anybody but himself, needed to be cleared to create some space
again. A professional cleaning company was used in this respect.
However, I think every bereaved person would need to find their own
solution to this process. It is important to do any sorting of
belongings with support - because it brings home the overwhelming
loss. The task should not be hurried, as time and consideration are
needed and these are more available further into bereavement. I
kept my dad’s pullover and a small sample of his music collections.
Looking at old photos can give a warm feeling though it’s sometimes
surprising to learn new aspects to a character you thought you
already understood.
My consultant psychiatrist made clear that grief in bereavement
is healthy and different from clinical depression. The cause of
grief is understandable and it needn’t result in an acute phase of
illness even for those of us with longstanding mental health
problems. I have been advised by my CPN to not rush the grieving
process or it will store up problems for later on as a delayed
response. Frantic deflection activities need to be avoided, though
some meaningful activity helps, in my case this is voluntary work.
It has also felt part of my healing to write the story of my dad’s
illness for several national cancer charities. I keep a private,
honest daily journal I use in my sessions of talking therapy. Now I
practise acceptance of feelings and circumstances. I am finding my
feet in a tentative way knowing I don’t have to be anything but
true to myself.
Alex
Alex is a service user. Her father died from prostate cancer
three months ago
Nov 2009
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