I thought maybe some of you might want to post about your personal losses. Sometimes it helps to know you are not alone and that people really do know what you are going through.
For me I probably had the biggest loss you can have at a young age, my mom. She died of colon cancer when I was 12. We found out and was told she had about 6 months. She died 6 months to that day. She had surgery, but no chemo. She died at home and we were fortunate enough to also be there when she passed. She had a rough go at the end and her passing actually was a blessing, because it ended her pain.
Her father, my grandpa, died a few years later. That was not real upsetting because he went crazy after my mother died and so he was at peace with his wife and daughter!
The first funeral I remember attending was of one of my mom's boyfriend's friends. I think he got killed in a car accident. I don't remember much about it other than my mom made me a special dress for it. I was 5. It was also probably a closed casket, because I don't remember seeing the body.
My great grandfather died of old age. I remember getting out of school to go to his funeral. I was kind of scared of him as a kid. All I remembered about him was him always seeming sick, and he always wanted me to sit on his lap, but I was afraid I would break him. So the funeral was very surreal. He was in his 90s. I think I was about 10 at the time.
My grandfather died after surgery to get a blod clot out of his leg. The surgery went well, but they didn't get the entire clot out. It traveled to his heart that night. My mom woke me up (I was 12), and I slept in her bed so I could watch my sister who was still a baby while they went to the hospital. I remember laying in her bed and just crying. I didn't sleep that night. I also remember having the next few days off of school. There was one day between the funeral arrangements and the wake, and I remember sitting at home when I could've been at school and feeling weird that we weren't doing anything. I felt so helpless.
When I was 18, my uncle Kevin who was in his early 30's had a heart attack. He lived with my grandma at the time, and he usually got up and went to work early and sometimes didn't come home until late at night. So a day had passed already when my grandma found him. My mom called me at work, and I couldn't stop crying, so I went home. The funeral was terrible. It was an open casket, but it didn't look like my uncle. My sister was 7 at the time, and she took it really hard. When they opened the casket to the family, she couldn't stop crying. The pastor that did the sermon during the funeral couldn't keep his facts straight, and he called me my uncle's sister. It's still hard to believe that he's not here anymore.
It'll be two years this April when my father in law passed away. That one was the hardest, and I felt helpless during the whole thing. One night, while my husband was working third shift, I got a call from his brother that his dad was in the hospital. He had collapsed, and an abulance rushed him to the emergency room. His main aorta had burst, and they rushed him into emergency surgery. It was about 1 am when I got the call, and immediately I tried calling my husband at work, but there was no answer. I tried calling every 10 minutes until 4:45 when I had to leave to pick him up. So I told him, and we rushed up to the hospital. The surgery was completed, but he had internal bleeding and his organs weren't functioning right. They kept him sedated. We stayed up there for 3 days waiting on some word good or bad, but the doctors really didn't tell us anything. There was nothing we could do other than sit around the waiting room in ICU and play puzzles, so we drove back home. Two weeks later, some old associates of my father in laws (that he didn't really like very well) came to visit him in ICU. They were being really noisy, went into his room without seeing the nurses first, and flipped the light switch on. My father in law had a stroke then. The hospital kept him on life support until me and my husband went up there, so my husband could say his goodbyes. Sitting there outside his room after the life support was turned off was terrible. We were just sitting there waiting for him to die. He had the best funeral though. He was a county cop and was in the air force before that, so he had a lot of people there. Of course, they played taps and had the gun salute. It was such an honorable funeral, and afterwards, in addition to our grief, I felt really happy and proud to have known him.
The first hard one on me was my grandpa (mom's dad). I was about 18 at the time and he had cancer in his pancreas. I was at tech school when I got the call that he was not well so I picked up my cousin who lived in the area and we drove the 1.5 hrs to see him. We stayed at the hospital for a while then went back. By the time I got back to my dorm, the phone was ringing that he had passed away. I was really glad I went to see him that last time.
A few months after that, I found out that one of my classmates at tech school died in a head-on collision in the fog. We were not that close, but since he was so young that one was pretty hard to take.
My other grandpa's death was not so hard on me because he had Huntingtons and from the time I could remember, he was in nursing homes and hospitals. I never really knew him when he wasn't sick. Now my aunt, (his daughter) is going through what he went through as there is no cure for Huntingtons.
My mom's death three years ago was the hardest on me by far. In just less than a year, she went from "why am I always so tired?" to her funeral. The loss, I can deal with pretty well. The suffering she went through has been the hardest on me. My dad literally lived and slept in a chair by her side for over a month in an Omaha hospital. His strength through the whole thing was incredible.
In and out of hospitals, trips to Omaha and Kearney and many treatments later, she lost the battle. She spent her last two weeks here in the local hospital under pain meds to try to keep her comfortable. The only way to do that was to knock her out. My dad finally collapsed and they admitted him into the hospital where he literally slept for three days. I had both parents in beds just a few doors apart from each other. They told him they thought he had a virus and "quaranteened" him from her to force him to rest.
We were with her 24/7 the last couple weeks. My mom died three times during the last week . . . or at least we thought she was going. During those times, even the nurses were sure she was giving up and then she slowly she came back to us. During the last two weeks, her heart rate never dropped below 140 bpm . . . with it usually being up around 160-170. The nurses couldn't believe her heart took that as long as it did.
My mom died seven days after their 40th wedding anniversary. Dad got anniversary cards and sympathy cards in the same week.
Again, the loss I can deal with pretty well, but the thing that still sticks with me today is the suffering and the way she died. I would not wish that suffering on my worst enemy. I still have vivid visions of those last few hours we spent with her as she died. I don't know if I will ever be able to forget the sights, sounds, and smells that came out of that poor woman as she fought for life. I remember so wanting it to be over for her . . . and finally it was. She was 61.
About a year later, my grandmother (mom's mom) died. She was the next closest to me. This one was not nearly as hard as she was almost 90 years old, and was having memory and physical problems. Her body was simply worn out and it was time for her. I still miss her, she was a very sweet grandma.
Molly stated it best. No matter how long you prepare for the worst and tell yourself that you are ready, you are still never ready and it can be a complete shock.
My father was a surprise. He had not been feeling well for a week or so, maybe close to two weeks. He had spent the better part of three days in his room. He finally decided he was bad enough at one point to call the doctor and the doctor told him to go to the hospital. Well, he was stubborn (yes, that is where I get it) and was a big man. So, he didn't go anywhere. That was the Friday of Labor Day weekend. So Saturday rolls around and my father is about the same, so I go out and run errands and stuff. When I arrived home, my mother was having issues with my father. He didn't seem to know where he was. I had to help her get him out of the bathroom and into bed. Then he turned to me and asked me where I came from. He din't even know I was helping. We eventually had him taken to the hospital by ambulance. My mother went and I stayed home. The found his blood sugar was below 10. But every time they tried to raise his blood sugar, his fever spiked. This went round and round for a while. I was going to go to the hospital, but I stayed home with my sister instead. She was just moving back into the house that weekend. They decided to keep my father over night because they couldn't get him stablized. I picked my mother up late in the evening and brought her home. We recieved a phone call Sunday morning that said my father stop breathing and they needed permission to put a tube down his throat to help him breathe. Twenty minutes or a half hour later they called to say he died. Not exactly how you want to be awaken in the morning. It just seemed to be a shock since the hospital said he would be okay. It turns out that he had sepsis, which is toxins in his blood. Apparently his kidneys had started to have issues and he became toxic. I suppose it happens. Within the week of this happening, we found out my sister was pregnant. You know the theory of for every person that leaves, one is born.
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Stop trying to be what you see. Be what you ought to be.
I think the worst for me had to be losing my grandmothers. They were actually my husband's grandmothers, but since I didn't know my own very well, they were mine too. Both of them were wonderful people who loved me just like I was their own. I was devastated when they passed. Mama Faye had such a wonderful sense of humor. I loved listening to her talk with her Texas drawl... I can still hear her in my head "I sure do miss y'all. When you coming to visit again?" and my favorite "Love y'all, honey!" It makes me tear up just typing those words. My favorite memory of Grandma Bergen was visiting her on a hot summer day when she was wearing her first pair of "short pants". She was in her 80's by then, but always wore dresses. She was so proud of those "short pants", I'll never forget her smile.
Second to them was losing my friend Angela. She was a special person. I met her under difficult circumstances, but we became good friends. She was one of those people who had a rough life but was finally getting it together. She finally found a nice guy who really loved her, was getting a college education, and found something she wanted to do with her life that she was good at. I saw her the weekend before she died. Her doctor had put her on a number of perscriptions for a "pre-cancerous condition". I thought it was too much and asked her if she had all that checked out ot make sure it was safe to take together. She said her doctor said it was fine... We made plans to go see "Titanic" at the theater the next weekend. I called that morning but got no answer. Kev and I went on to the movie thinking she and her boyfriend would meet us there. They didn't, but we decided to go in anyway. My son called me in the middle of the movie... he'd gone over to work on Angela's truck and found the police and paramedics at her apartment. She'd died in her sleep, probably from the medications. I just couldn't believe it. Kev took me home, but didn't know what to do with me since I was such a wreck. He called Pambo and my mom (in that order). Next thing I knew, Pambo was sitting there on my bed by me. If it weren't for her being there, I'd have gone completely mental.
Then, there was Dad. He was is own kind of guy... not really what you think of when you think of a dad. For most of my life we weren't what you would want to call close, but in the last few years he decided that he might have missed out on something and was actually trying in his own way to be part of my life. He did at least provide some funny memories over the years. He was a diabetic, had several bouts with skin cancer, and his liver was barely functional, but I thought he would outlive me. He was just that kind of guy... retired USMC officer. One day he got up in the morning to check his blood sugar, must have blacked out and fell down on his knees. The fall managed to fracture both hips. That was a Monday. He passed away the following Sunday as a result of pneumonia. My mom, my brother, my husband and I were there as were some other family friends. My sister was on her way in from Michigan. It was difficult to watch, especially since he left the decision of whether or not to put him on life support to me. Still, I'm glad we were there for him.
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MM
That which does not kill me postpones the inevitable.
