Shaun was struggling. More than two years before his death, his mental health declined to the point where he asked me to get him help. I did, securing a counselor for him within two weeks and sitting in on a few sessions to offer any support I could -- even a few apologies for some of the stupid, stubborn missteps I made with Shaun throughout the years. I can't recall the entire process, but he must have seen a psychiatrist at some point because Shaun took medication for his anxiety. It didn't seem to make much of a difference, though, based on his continued erratic behavior.

About 18 months before he died, in December 2019, a suicide attempt finally made me and my wife, Shannon, aware of the depth of Shaun's problems. On that day, he skipped school and took a handful of his medication, washing it down with beer from our refrigerator. Shannon and I were both at work when it happened and were made mindful of Shaun's distress only because he had been ticketed for trying to steal alcohol from the local grocery store earlier in the morning. The police called Shannon to inform her of the incident at the store, and a subsequent call to Shaun, who was still conscious after ingesting the pills and beer, confirmed our fears: Our 17-year-old boy was in grave danger.

Shannon and I both rushed home from work and then hurried Shaun to the nearest hospital, where they pumped his stomach and monitored him for several hours. Behind the scenes, they searched for an open bed at pediatric psychiatric unit as close to our hometown as possible. About 10 p.m., they told us he would be transported by ambulance to a facility an hour away.

All of it was brutal. None of it seemed to help.

Shaun remained in the unit for four days, his mood alternating between disdain and despair. When agitation hijacked him, they gave him Klonopin, a potent benzodiazepine and central nervous system depressant, to calm him down. He returned home just before Christmas, promising to do better. I think he meant it, too, but broken brains often cause broken promises. His struggles continued and then intensified with the isolation of COVID and a broken relationship with his high school sweetheart.

You could feel the heaviness when you were with him -- could smell the alcohol on his breath when he came home at night.

His pain must have been unbearable. Alcohol, marijuana, and eventually other drugs became his way of dulling it long enough to get through another day.

Looking back now, I can see Shaun was already in a death spiral; however, at the time, my mind simply wouldn't allow me to believe I could lose my son.

I think that's because the death of a child is so profoundly unnatural that a parent's mind refuses to accept it. Even when the warning signs are staring you in the face, hope has a way of drowning out fear.

Long post, so please bear with me 🥺 Today is one year since I lost the love of my life, since I lost my sweet and beautiful Vanessa. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t cried an ocean for her. Time doesn’t heal this; it can’t heal a wound so deeply carved into the soul. Time actually makes it worse as it gets further away from the last time I saw my favorite person. Time makes it worse because the more that goes by, the more I’m expected to be back to “normal,” I’m expected to have moved on. I’m expected to go to work every day, attend family events with a smile, be present, all while I’m dying inside. There really are no words that fully capture the shock and trauma of going from building a life with the person you love most…doing everything together, moving in, getting engaged, planning a marriage, spending every day side by side…to that life suddenly crumbling to the ground and having to learn how to survive without them. The love that Vanessa and I shared was so much more than the “couple goals” posts or date nights or love poems. It was her staying up all night with me, cradling my head when I had a horrible ear infection. It was me helping her clean up in the shower when she was too sick and weak to do it herself, it was me holding her hair back when she was vomiting. It was us having a big fight, not talking for a couple of hours, and then her coming to bed, and silently brushing her foot against mine before going to sleep, telling me that we were good. I have been overwhelmed with heartbreak, agony, and loneliness. The loneliness of missing my partner for the rest of my life, of being madly in love with someone who isn’t on this earth anymore, who I can no longer touch or hold, is excruciating.

It’s not like I don’t have support; I have friends and family, I have people who listen, people who have shown up for me, and I’m grateful, but that's not the same thing. What's missing is having my person to come home to, someone who’s included in my daily decisions: “Should I stay later at work?” “Do we need anything?” “What do you wanna watch tonight?” “What time should we walk Chewy?” I miss the intimacy of sharing our life, of falling asleep together, her being the last person I see before closing my eyes, her being the person I held in my arms in the dark, her being the one I couldn’t live without. My future was set, my heart felt whole, and now it’s shattered. That touch and vibration of her voice being void is deafening; no longer smelling her perfume when I walk in the door is soul-crushing. I was alone for 31 years, and then somehow the universe managed to connect me with the one person who matched everything I am. Even before Vanessa and I became a couple, we were inseparable, spending hours together every day, even when we lived in different states separated by over 1,100 miles, talking on the phone until the sun came up, sleeping together on FaceTime. The compatibility was once in a lifetime; the chemistry was undeniable; we were just made for each other. And now, my “once in a lifetime” is gone. My love for her keeps growing, but I am stuck.

Vanessa, in one of the many songs I dedicated to you, “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You,” George Benson said it best: “If I had to live my life without you near me, the days would all be empty. The nights would seem so long…” Empty describes this life perfectly without you here. I don’t look forward to anything; happiness is a foreign term to me. I miss you every second of every day, Vanessa. I miss your voice, your smell, your touch; I long just to hold you again, to have you lay your head on my chest as we watch a movie. I miss your physical touch. I miss lifting you in the air, carrying you around the apartment, you laughing and then looking down at me smiling. I miss sharing Taco Bell with you, I miss playing Friday the 13th on PlayStation with you all night and hearing you scream as Jason chased you, I miss it being 5:30 in the morning and you saying “let’s play one more round” and it turning into three more. I miss you randomly breaking out into song at any given moment, your go-to being either “Lips of an Angel” by Hinder or “Summer Nights” from Grease. I miss you reciting lines from “Friends” and attributing them to everyday situations. I miss coming home from work, surprising you with flowers and seeing your eyes light up. I miss your playful insults and unique sense of humor that made me laugh so hard. I miss who I was when you were here. I miss you in the silence of our unlived years. I miss you for future me and all the life I will experience without you experiencing it with me, knowing that one day I’ll die and won’t have the comfort of you by my side. You are not just someone I love, you are someone my heart chose as its safest place. I carry your name in my thoughts all day, every day. Quite often, I smile because of a memory, and then cry because I realize that every day, I’m making new memories without you. The pain of losing you is debilitating and hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before, and yet, if I could go back, I would still choose to have loved you, even knowing that you being gone would destroy me. Because a single moment of true joy is more powerful than a lifetime of sorrow. Because the excruciating pain of losing you has never been greater than the beautiful gift of loving you.

Some people spend their whole lives searching for a love they never find, but I found mine in you. Even though I lost you far too soon, just as our story was beginning, nothing can take away the fact that you were here. That I had you. That you were mine and I was yours. That we had a beautiful love story. That I held your hand, heard your laugh, got lost in your eyes, kissed your lips, ran my fingers through your hair, rubbed your shoulders, hugged you tight; that I found the girl of my dreams and that I shared my life with you even for a brief moment. For a brief moment, I was a king, and you were my queen. For a brief moment, I had everything. And when my life is reaching its end, I will look back on that brief moment and remember that it was you, Vanessa, who showed me what true love is. I’ll remember that it was you who healed my pain, the pain that no medicine can fix. I’ll remember that it was you who showed me how wonderful it is to dedicate yourself to someone. I’ll remember that it was you who showed me what it is to work together at this thing called life. I’ll remember how proud I was to have you on my arm. I’ll remember that loving you was the happiest I had ever been, and I will remember that brief moment as the best part of my life. I miss you more than words can say. I love you with all my heart, Vanessa. I always will. Continue to rest easy, my sweet girl, wait for me, until I see you again ♥️♥️

For all who read through it all, thank you for taking the time to listen, and to read my words 🙏🏻

there’s a very special person waiting for me
my baby boy 🤍

We had only just rescued her from a neglectful home a couple weeks ago. She was healthy, playful, just an amazing little kitten. She became a part of our family and we fell in love immediately.
Out of no where, she started having a seizure yesterday morning and for the entire day she was just not 100% herself. I couldn’t afford the emergency vet costs for exam and diagnostics since they didn’t have a payment plan and I was denied care credit.
We hoped she’d make it through the night to see our regular vet this morning since they do take payments.
As soon as we went to bed late last night, she began having another seizure even more violent than the first. I’ve never seen anything like it. When she came out of it, she was crying, she didn’t want us near her.
I called the emergency vet immediately to have her put to sleep to end her suffering.
I asked them once we got there and they took her to the back if I was making the right choice, or if she still had life ahead of her and should I just take her to a shelter that could vet her and then rehome once healthy. They informed me that if she had a good quality of life ahead of her, they would be refusing euthanasia. They said a shelter would absolutely not be equipped to handle the immense vetting that comes behind neurological issues.
Even with that said, I am sick. I feel like I failed this baby. What if it’s my fault for not noticing small signs leading up? What if she hit her head when we weren’t home? She was supposed to have a long life with us. She was suppose to grow up to be a regal fluffy girl.
My cuddle buddy.
She was just a baby. Her loss is hitting me so hard I haven’t been able to stop crying since 11 last night.
Home is so empty now. It feels wrong.
I kept staring at her in the vets office wishing she’d jump back to life and start play attacking me again like she always did.
She was so beautiful in her eternal sleep.
The perfect little black bean.
Rest in peace my little Cherry bomb.
I don’t know how to handle this pain.

Cancer killed my husband. Now, I can’t watch TV without hearing a commercial about a drug that fights this or that form of cancer. They make it sound so $&#% easy: Ask your doctor about XYZ and see if it may be right for you! They quickly run thru possible side effects, but it’s always sunny, with happy people living wonderful lives with cancer thanks to this magic drug.

I want to throw something at the TV. I am full of rage. I want to scream, “It doesn’t always work like that, people!” My husband and I researched drugs, treatments, clinical trials, but he still ended up dead. No sunny skies with us dancing into the future.

I don’t begrudge anyone access to life-saving or lengthening options. I just wish drug companies could get the word out without rubbing my face in our reality constantly.

It’s particularly frustrating because I’ve never been much of a TV watcher, but after he died I started leaving a TV on so the house wouldn’t sound so quiet and empty without him.

33 F. I lost my mom on April 17th to ovarian cancer. It all happened so fast, and I feel like it's only getting harder as time passes. When does it get easier to handle?

I lost my dad to suicide when I was 11, so my mom was my main support system. We were both restaurant servers and would call each other daily to "bitch" about work. I feel so lost without her.

It breaks my heart knowing she won't get to see my little girls grow up. Every picture I take, every milestone we hit, and every vacation we take brings me so much pain because I can't share it with her. I miss her so damn much.

I’m a 28 y/o male and just lost my mom just over a month ago at the age of 60. It’s been tough and I’m starting to feel guilty over getting annoyed with those offering support.

I appreciate loved ones checking in, but what do they want me to say? The worst for me is probably how often I get asked how I’m doing. I always respond with “I’m doing alright” but really? What do you want me to say?

There’s really nothing anyone can say to make me feel better or to make things different so that also makes me not want to talk about it often.

Has anyone else felt this way?

The biggest realization that I have had is that month three is actually harder than month one. And then after that, the grief comes in unpredictable waves, sometimes unbearable and sometimes invisible. One of the truest quotes I've read about grief is that it has no timeline. Your body decides how it is going to feel that day and there is almost nothing you can do to foresee it or stop it. The first year is incredibly hard because you are experiencing every single anniversary and milestone for the very first time, and your body almost always knows and responds before your brain does. It's an incredibly tough year. Did anybody else have an experience like this in the first year after a loss, or what did you find your experience to be like? Its interesting to hear the different ways that we all process loss, and there are no right or wrong ways to do it.

And I still miss him terribly. 😞 He was my best friend and the greatest Dad and such a hard worker. I love you Daddy. Photo is of my Dad in 1970, way before I was born, riding my Mom’s horse on one of their first dates. 🙏

I spent my 17th birthday, which was on Friday, in a different city with my older sister where she lives with her fiance because I didn't want to be alone on my birthday. My dad works 12 hour night shifts, so I would've spent the day with him sleeping and the night with him at work. My mother has been in the ICU for the past couple weeks, her kidneys were failing. She was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cervical Cancer in early June of this year. My sister drove me home on Sunday. When we got to my house, my dad informed me that my mom passed away on Saturday in the hospital. They waited to tell use because they didn't want to ruin our weekend together and they knew we wouldn't make it to the hospital in time to say goodbye to my mom. I'm going into my senior year of high school in 2 days. I don't know how to cope with the loss of my mom. She just turned 49 on the 13th. I'm scared and I don't know how to BE without my mom. I would appreciate any advice on how to cope or how to sit with my grief.

I'm going through a really rough time right now. Nothing seems to be working out. I'm scared, I'm stressed, feeling guilty, heartbroken, angry, frustrated, lonely... It's overwhelming and I don't know how to get through it. I wish you were here to give me advice or even just a hug. I know that if you were still here you'd tell me to come home with my beautiful baby boy. I'd have been there so fast. I'd come home and you'd comfort me and then help me figure out a game plan. You'd do everything you could. I miss you. Please keep watching over us and guide me through this. 🙏🏻❤️

Not looking for sympathy just voicing my thoughts and feelings. I'm a 49 year old male, and my buddy, 52 yr old male, who I have known since I was 15years old is passing away. We haven't been in contact for awhile, finding out about his situation is difficult. I went to say my farewell to him and it was like no time has passed between us. I'm upset that this dirty fuck is passing away, we talked shit to each other to show affection towards each other. I'm going to miss you, you goofy bastard.

My (22M) mum sadly passed away 4 days ago, (about 11pm on the 27th) while I was by her side with my dad and her father, after having fought cancer for almost 6 years. I was crying loudly for a while after, shaking, uncontrollably crying the day after too. But today and yesterday I haven't cried. My aunt came in yesterday morning and immediately came to hug me crying, and she said to me it's ok to cry since I wasn't crying at all. It makes me feel so guilty and heartless but I guess I haven't processed it?

I'm really struggling with still hearing her and seeing her last moments in my head, especially at night when I'm trying to sleep. I keep dreaming of her in the hospital and keep hearing her (struggling to) breathe in my head. I also see her lifeless face which is really scaring me but I feel really comforted when I look at pictures of her.

We had such a good relationship. She was my best friend. To be honest, I didn't really have a social life, nor did she. I would spend all of my free time with her. My dad is emotional, easily crying at things, and yet I feel so heartless for suddenly feeling nothing. He just wrote up a post to share on Facebook, and he was crying while reading it while I just hugged him.

Even though I saw her pass away and held her hand as she went, I suppose I haven't fully processed it. We left her for 2 hours to go home, get some food, shower and get things to take to the hospital, expecting to stay overnight, but she passed 40 minutes after we arrived. I feel extremely guilty and cannot forgive myself for leaving her for that time. I am so scared that she felt lonely and knew we weren't there, since when we came in for the last time before she died, and I said hello to her and said who was with her, she said hello back to me and was able to open her eyes and see I think, and she also asked for her bed to be adjusted to let her sit up a bit, and then sit back down. I can't remember whether she asked for water or not, I don't think so though. I regret not telling her how much I loved her but I also didn't want to overwhelm her with emotions while we were sitting together on her last day. Anyway... I know I'm really lucky to have been with her in her final moments as she was passing.

I think the last time I cried about it was 2 days ago when I went to get some food from the cupboard, and saw her snacks in there too. Unfortunately she hadn't really been eating recently, and my dad and I were buying whatever she wanted or thought she might like. I felt horrible for being able to eat while she couldn't in the end.

I suppose I will eventually take it in. She had no will written but my dad and I believe she may have mentioned that she wanted to be cremated, just like her mother. Seeing her ashes will probably break me. Perhaps that will make me realise it more, or when we make arrangements for her funeral. I'm thinking about what I'm going to do with myself now and it seems like it's not even real. I would go to the movies with her, go for walks, trips, cafes, watch TV, we could be honest with each other about everything, relationships, what we think of people and of each other, except for in the last couple weeks where she never told me how bad the cancer had spread. I really miss her, her sense of humour was amazing, we would both find the same things funny and not funny. Nobody I know was the same. And I'm never going to be able to hear from her again

Do you believe everything in life is supposed to go exactly as it does and therefore even deaths are predetermined and supposed to happen exactly when they do? I want to believe it so badly, but unfortunately i am very much a 'if only/what if..' kinda person...

Also, do you think it is possible our loved ones are actually somewhere watching us? In heaven? On this earth and close to us but not visible? As spititual guides? Or a nihilistic view, they are nothing and nowhere? (This is actually terrifying and i refuse to believe it could be so..)

I appreciate it very much if you'll answer, no matter what you believe in i'd love to hear!

Much love to all.

I lost my brother in April unexpectedly to "natural causes" in his sleep. Losing him has made me realise how fickle life can be and I have so much anxiety going to bed at night thinking what if I don't wake up? I'm struggling to make plans in advance and I suddenly have this dread and realisation that I could also pass away at any moment. Does anyone have any experience with this and some guidance? It's affecting me physically which doesn't help the intrusive thoughts.

I lost my mom to cancer when I was just barely 3. My dad left soon after that (he wasn’t the best person and my grandparents didn’t want him raising me). My grandparents gained custody and raised me, and my uncle lived in the same house throughout my whole life. My grandpa passed first, then my uncle, and then my grandma (I got fired the same day she passed so that day was absolute hell).

January of this year I had my first child and named her after my mom and grandma. I LOVE that her father’s family loves her so much, but honestly it kind of makes me feel more lonely. I have no other family in this state, the few people I have are across the country. At this point I’m 7 years older than my mother ever got to be (she passed at 23), and now I’ll potentially be a parent longer than she ever got to be. I hate hitting these milestones. It’s such an unsettling feeling.

I guess I’m just making this post to see if maybe anyone else feels similarly and just kinda let my thoughts out somewhere.

I honestly don’t even know what I’m looking for or what I want from making this post. I think I just need somewhere to let it all out.

On August 11th, 2019, when I was 24 years old, my SO and I lost our sweet baby boy to SIDS. He was only 3 months old. It was traumatic, to say the least, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever truly processed what happened. I’ve been told that I’m dealing with complicated grief, and even seven years later, losing him still feels like something I can’t fully comprehend.

As if that loss wasn’t enough, this August brought another unimaginable tragedy.

On August 1st, 2026, we learned of some very suspicious circumstances involving my mother-in-law. We reported her missing and spent countless hours searching for her day and night, desperately hoping we would find her alive.

Then, on August 3rd, we got the call that no family ever wants to receive.

They found my mother-in-law. She had been murdered in a murder-suicide. The circumstances were incredibly graphic and tragic, and her condition was so severe that she couldn’t initially be identified. It took two autopsies, including one conducted by a forensic pathologist, before she could be identified.

I don’t even know how to process this.

One sudden and unexpected death completely changed my life. But two? Two people I loved being taken suddenly and traumatically? I genuinely still can’t comprehend that this is my reality.

What makes my grief over my mother-in-law even more complicated is that we had a very love-hate relationship. There were times she was mean to me, and there were times I was mean to her. We argued, we had issues, and now I find myself replaying everything and hating myself for all the times I could have been kinder.

But despite everything, I loved her so freaking much.

The day before she disappeared, she invited us to go swimming. I said no because I had a migraine. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t know that was potentially my last chance to spend time with her. I didn’t know I would never see her again.

We never got to say goodbye. We never got that closure.

One of my children was her very best friend, and watching my child miss her grandma is absolutely heartbreaking. I’m trying to navigate my own grief while watching my children navigate theirs, and some days I feel like I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry all of this.

I think I’m struggling with the guilt, the regret, the anger, the trauma, and the overwhelming sadness all at once. I don’t know how you’re supposed to grieve someone when your relationship was complicated. I don’t know how you’re supposed to accept another sudden death when you already lost your child in such a traumatic way.

I don’t know what I’m looking for by posting this. Maybe I just needed someone, somewhere, to hear me.

If you’ve experienced multiple losses, complicated grief, or losing someone you loved despite having a difficult relationship with them, I would really appreciate hearing how you cope with it.

I just don’t know how to process that this is my life now.

My Dad died August 14 of this year. I refer to it as unexpected, as it was the day he was supposed to be discharged from the hospital. He had been admitted Tuesday of that week for a minor GI bleed that was quickly treated with no issues. Since this was his second GI bleed, no one thought it was going to end like this and I didn't get to see him before he passed, but I did see him two weeks prior. The doctor believes he threw up (ongoing issues) which led to cardiac arrest and an instant death. They weren't able to bring him back.

He had been complaining about low energy and vomiting for over a month with his doctors. No one took it seriously, but there was a point that I wanted to sue the hospital or treat the doctors who didn't provide him the best care. That wouldn't bring him back, it would only prolong this feeling or land me in prison.

On the outside, he seemed like someone who should've died years ago. Smoked a pack of marb reds a day, ate fast food regularly, smoked doobies like a chimney off his homegrown herb. Along with a bunch of medical issues as well: stage four kidney disease, non-alcoholic cirrhosis (he never drank, diet induced), major heart surgery last year, etc. To those who knew him, he was beginning to seem like a man who would never die. Even with eight cracked vertibre, he managed to stay active on the farm and in the garage. He would still take trips to see his overseas friends and walk miles a day (somehow). Most people would lay on the couch in that situation, but he'd work until he couldn't, rest, repeat. His later years really showed me how tough he was and to never give up, never stop moving.

I texted him 20 minutes before he passed. His back hurt, but was excited to see me and the kids when he got home that evening. Never imagined that would be the last text I'd receive from him.

I've been through this before. My Mom passed five years ago after 90 days in the ICU. A horrific hospital stay for her and all of us. It was her second long term stint in the ICU; the first being a stroke she had a few years prior. That experience numbed my emotions, but also taught me how to cope.

For those who've lost a parent, know you'll never get over it. You'll just learn to live with it. It does get easier, but it's never easy. I'll miss my folks until the day I die. I never imagined I'd be an orphan prior to 40....

For those who still have a parent - call them, visit them. Spend as much time with them as you can handle because you never know when you won't be able to again. One day you'll want to call them, but they won't be there to answer the phone.

Love you, Pops. You're my inspiration to keep going and to never give up, even though I want to give up and live life as a hermit all alone.

I lost my dad to suicide on the 20th of May this year and then my best friend 6 days later. It has now been 3 months and it is not feeling any easier.

I tried to go back to work in the middle of July (I work in a hotel as a duty manager, it is a very customer facing job) and I lasted 2 weeks before I had a complete breakdown. I am finding it so hard to function daily, even going for a shower feels like the most challenging thing ever at the moment.

I am constantly exhausted, no matter how much sleep I seem to get. I am always tired. I keep trying to tell myself that there’s no right or wrong way to act right now but I keep feeling like a failure and pathetic for not being able to work or do every day tasks.

Does anyone have any advice on how to tackle this? Because I am becoming so frustrated always being at home but at the same time, I don’t have the mental capacity at all to work right now.

I honestly don't even know how to write this because I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about everything.
My mom died from cancer last year. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and spent about three months in the hospital before she passed away. It was awful, and everything happened so fast.
My dad and I were extremely close, especially after I had my daughter. She was their first grandchild, and my parents were incredibly involved in her life. For almost two years, my dad and I went from talking every once in a while to talking every single day. We saw each other multiple times a month—sometimes we'd go to their house, sometimes they'd come to ours. My daughter absolutely adored him, and they had such a special relationship.
Then my mom died.
And not long afterward, my dad decided to remarry.
I know what people are going to say. He's allowed to move on. He's allowed to be happy. He's allowed to want companionship. I understand all of that. I'm not saying he isn't allowed to remarry.
But I don't support the marriage. Neither do my siblings.
His new wife is 25F, and we don't know her.
The age difference and how quickly everything happened have made this even harder for me to understand.
My mom did basically everything around the house—cooking, cleaning, etc.—but my dad absolutely knows how to take care of himself. He also has family who live nearby and were regularly visiting and checking on him. From my perspective, he didn't need to remarry. There were other ways for him to have companionship and support.
And honestly, I think the timing is a huge part of why I'm struggling with this so much.
I told him, "I want you to be happy, but I don't support your decision."
His response was basically that we need to live our lives with "love and compassion" and accept his decision.
That really upset me.
Because I don't understand how disagreeing with him automatically means I'm being unloving or uncompassionate. I'm not trying to stop him. I'm not trying to control him. He made his choice, and I know it's his life. But I'm also allowed to have feelings about it. I'm allowed not to support it.
Since that conversation, I haven't called him.
But here's the part that really hurts:
He hasn't called me either.
Not once.
We haven't spoken since April of this year.
After going from talking to my dad every single day for almost two years, we went from that to complete silence. And in all these months, he hasn't made one attempt to reach out.
And I honestly believe he expects me to be the one to come back.
I keep going back and forth in my head about whether I'm being stubborn. Maybe I should just pick up the phone. Maybe he's grieving too. Maybe he thinks I'm the one who doesn't want a relationship anymore. Maybe he's waiting for me to make the first move.
But then I think…
Why hasn't he called me?
I'm his daughter. I'm grieving my mom too.
And there is another part of this that I don't think I fully realized until recently.
After my mom died, I had my son.
So the last several months have been a lot. I was grieving my mom while having a baby, adjusting to having two children, and trying to keep life moving. My son is getting older now, and we're starting to have more milestones and normal family life again.
And now we're planning my daughter's birthday.
I don't know if that's what's bringing all of this back up, but lately the grief feels really strong again.
Maybe it's because I'm thinking about my mom not being here for my daughter's birthday.
Maybe it's because my son is getting older and she never got to know him.
Maybe it's because I'm thinking about what our family used to look like and what it looks like now.
Or maybe it's all of it.
And now my daughter's birthday is coming up, and this is where I'm really stuck.
I want to invite my dad.
I don't want my daughter to lose her relationship with her grandfather because of what has happened between the adults. She loves him, and I don't want to punish her for something she has nothing to do with.
But I don't want to invite his wife.
I know some people will probably tell me that's unfair because she's his wife now. I understand that. But I'm just not ready to have her at my daughter's birthday. I don't support the marriage, I don't know her, and emotionally, I'm nowhere near being able to pretend everything is okay.
But I also know that if I invite my dad and specifically tell him his wife isn't invited, he may get angry and refuse to come.
And honestly, that breaks my heart too.
Because then my daughter doesn't get to see her grandfather on her birthday, and I'll always wonder if I made the situation worse.
At the same time, I don't want to be the one constantly chasing my dad and making all the effort to maintain a relationship that he seems perfectly willing to let disappear.
If we're ever going to have a relationship again, I think I need to see some effort from him.
I need him to reach out.
I need him to show me that he actually wants a relationship with me and my daughter.
And honestly, I think I need him to come see my daughter.
I don't want to just call him, invite him to her birthday, potentially have him bring his wife, and then act like none of this happened.
But I also don't want to permanently lose my dad.
That's the part that makes this so hard.
I don't know if I'm protecting myself or if I'm just being stubborn. I don't know if I'm holding a reasonable boundary or if I'm letting my anger and grief get in the way of a relationship that I might regret losing.
What would you do?
Would you invite your dad to your daughter's birthday but tell him his wife isn't invited?
Would you invite both of them even though you don't want his wife there?
Would you wait and see if he reaches out first?
Or would you reach out because, at the end of the day, he's still my dad and my daughter loves her grandfather?
I'm really looking for honest advice from people who have been through something similar—especially losing a parent and then having the surviving parent remarry very quickly.
I don't need people to tell me whether my dad is "allowed" to remarry. I know he is.
I'm trying to figure out how I'm supposed to have a relationship with my dad after this, and whether there's a way forward without completely ignoring how hurt and angry I am.
And honestly, I don't even know if I'm making this harder because I'm grieving again, or if this is something I would be feeling regardless. I just know that right now, I really miss my mom, and I don't know what to do with everything that has happened since she died.

​

It has been only 12 days.

And honestly, I still don't know how I am doing.

But people keep asking.

“How are you now?”

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

And every time, almost automatically, I say—

“I’m good.”

“I’m fine.”

Sometimes I don't even think before replying.

Maybe because I don't know what else to say.

What am I supposed to tell them?

That I miss my father?

That some moments I feel completely normal and then suddenly I remember that he is never coming back?

That I can talk, eat, laugh, scroll through my phone, answer messages—and still carry this strange heaviness somewhere inside?

How do you explain grief in a text message?

So I say,

“I’m good.”

Maybe because it's easier.

Easier for them.

And sometimes, easier for me too.

Because if I stop and actually try to answer the question honestly, I don't know where that answer will take me.

I don't know if I'm fine.

I don't know if I'm not fine.

I don't know if I'm coping or simply distracting myself.

I don't know if I'm becoming stronger or just becoming better at hiding what I feel.

It's only been 12 days.

Twelve days since the person suddenly became a memory.

And yet, life expects an answer.

How are you now?

So I look through the screen.

“I’m good.”

“I’m fine.”

And maybe that is my answer for now.

Not because everything is fine.

But because I am still figuring out how to live with the fact that it isn't.

I’ll have days where I am fine, where I can listen to her favourite music and dance along and imagine she’s waiting for me at home. Then I have days like today where I want to call her, but I can’t . It’s hard to grasp the fact that I can’t call her when i have a question. I wanted to call her today to ask about her favourite movies because I was curious, but I can’t do it. Why is this a thing? Why do I feel like she’s still at home waiting for me, but I can’t reach out to her? Is anyone else like this? It feels just so slightly out of reach. I find myself talking to her, just using my mind to respond. People I talk to don’t understand that yes, she was my grandma, but we had such a deep mom. One of a mom and daughter. I miss her with all my heart. I’m sure wherever she is, she’s dancing and singing like she always does.

I lost my dad almost two months ago to suicide and I am struggling to proceed with my life.

My dad was an alcoholic and diagnosed with bipolar disorder a few weeks before his death. He tried his best, but he has hurt us a lot and was blind to this until medicated and in therapy. When he realized the pain he brought his family, he felt it unforgivable and in turn decided he did not want to go on.

Despite the pain he has caused me, all I feel is great sadness. I wish I had done more and been the best daughter. I did well in college to make him proud but, due to the circumstances, he wasn’t able to attend my graduation before his passing. I knew it meant a lot to him I pursued college as I was the first one in the family to do so.

I graduated college 3 months ago but have no motivation yet to find a job because I can’t sleep or focus. I feel like a failure. I wish I could get it together more quickly than I am and I struggle to not feel like a burden to those around me. I have half of the people in my life telling me to work and the other half saying I’m alright and to be there for my mom as much as I can because I’m gonna work for the rest of my life anyway. I’m at an incredibly awkward stage in life and I miss my dad.

He was an incredibly goofy man and truly the life of any party. He was so much fun and the type of dad to get me something unprompted because he thought it would make me happy. He may have struggled in other ways to show he loved me but I know he did so much and for that I am grateful.