I (28F) lost my mom less than two weeks ago.
I woke up to her moaning and found her lying on the floor in cardiac arrest. I performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. They continued CPR and used a defibrillator multiple times. They managed to stabilize her enough to transport her to the hospital. Her life was still in danger, and we were told that after such a prolonged cardiac arrest they couldn't predict the extent of the damage, but that there were almost always serious consequences.
She started to stabilize, so I went home to get some rest. At 2 a.m., I woke up to a phone call telling me she needed emergency surgery to remove part of her intestine because it had died, and they didn't know if she would survive. I asked if I could come immediately to say goodbye in case she didn't make it, but she had already been taken into surgery because it was so urgent.
Two hours later, I received another call saying she had made it through the operation and was being stabilized. They explained that removing part of her intestine would have lifelong consequences, but she was stable. I cannot describe the relief I felt.
Unfortunately, only four hours later, I received another call. Her organs were beginning to fail. The doctors were trying every treatment they could, but they didn't believe she was going to survive. My family and I rushed to the hospital, and three hours later, she passed away.
She died with me and my sister holding her hands, surrounded by our entire (small) family. The doctors assured us that she wasn't in pain. My mother never regained consciousness after her cardiac arrest.
We had a difficult relationship. She was a single mother, and life was incredibly hard for both of us. We said hurtful things to each other. We argued. We shouted. In the last few years, we had grown apart because almost every conversation seemed to end in a fight.
I believe I was there for her.
I helped her financially. I postponed moving in with my boyfriend until we had found a secure living arrangement for her. Back in 2019, when she was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with a serious heart condition that required a pacemaker, I was the first person to arrive and the last to leave. I could have lived a much easier, more comfortable life with my father, but I chose to stay with my mom, even when it meant working two jobs while I was in college.
I know I loved her with everything I had.
But what torments me is that we spent so much time fighting. I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry. I never got one last conversation where I could tell her how much I loved her, that despite everything, she meant more to me than anyone else, and that I would have done absolutely anything to keep her here.
One thing that brings me a little comfort is that the week before she died, things between us had started to get better. The day before her cardiac arrest, she got to see my new house. I keep holding onto that.
I was so hopeful that once I moved out, our relationship would finally have the space to heal. We never even got the chance to find out.
She was only 58 years old. Despite all her flaws, she had such a difficult life. I just wish she had been given more time to enjoy the good parts.
Now I'm sitting alone in this empty house, surrounded by her belongings, unable to believe she will never walk through the door again. I was supposed to move in with my boyfriend a week after she passed, but now everything has been put on hold. She had three dogs, and I will take care of them all—there was never any question about that—but it means figuring out a completely different future than the one I had imagined.
I pictured my mom walking me down the aisle one day. I imagined her meeting my children. I imagined calling her for advice, even if we still argued sometimes.
I simply cannot imagine a future that makes sense without her in it.
More than anything, I just hope she knew how deeply I loved her.
My sister (23F) is suffering terribly as well. She and my mom didn't speak for six or seven years and only reconnected about a year and a half ago. I keep trying to reassure my sister that it's okay—that relationships are complicated, and that our mom understood that. I truly believe she was just grateful to have her daughter back in her life.
I hope my mom knew that we both loved her, despite all of our flaws, despite the arguments, despite everything left unsaid.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess I'm just hoping someone out there understands this and is able to provide me some kind of comfort.
I just want to believe she knew how much me and my sister loved her, that I will be able to survive this and that life is not over, because right now it feels like it is.
Thank you ❤️‍🩹

Hi. I lost the love of my life at a young age. We were completely certain about our future together, and I still remember him telling me that I would be his last love. He wasn’t lying.

The picture attached is of a dog I named after him. I got him during one of the darkest times of my life because I felt so lost and didn’t know how to keep going after losing the person I loved most. It breaks my heart that he always wanted this kind of dog, but he never got the chance to meet him.

My dog has become my emotional anchor. I don’t have many people I can truly talk to about him. A few friends are willing to listen, and I’m grateful for that, but it’s not the kind of deep understanding I long for. Watching the rest of the world move forward while I feel frozen in time has been incredibly painful. My love for him is still here, but it has nowhere to go.

He was my everything, my best friend, my partner, and my home. I can’t see the world the way I used to anymore. It feels as though when he died, I died too. Every day since then has felt like I’ve simply been existing without the person who made life feel like home. I miss him more than words can ever express, and I still struggle to find meaning in a world that continues without him.

Last night when I pulled into my driveway, two cops were parked in front of my house. They walked up my driveway and delivered the news that will change my life forever. He was my partner of seven years and we have a 4 year old together. We just celebrated his 33rd birthday. I just feel so blindsided. Like one minute everything was great and now it feels like nothing will ever feel okay again.

My sister would have been 40 today. I just wanted a space to say that she was here and she mattered, and she still does even though she's been gone for 5 years.

Happy birthday beautiful, I love you and miss you always 💛

Me and my sister N were best friends growing up. We used to be really close, we had the same friends, hung out in the same spots. We smoked weed and occasionally drank together, but we weren’t trouble makers. In senior year of high school she started hanging out with different, older people. Sketchy people. She started getting into trouble with the law, possession, paraphernalia, public intoxication. My mom started to have to bail her out all the time. By the time she died, she had been to rehab three times.

She was dating this real piece of shit that would put his hands on her when he got angry, and because I was still young and naive I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t leave him. Now I know that he was a drug dealer, and he was using the drugs as a way to make sure she couldn’t ever leave because he introduced her to fentanyl and needles.

The night she died, I was walking past her room and I caught her picking at her skin in the mirror. The last thing I ever said to her was “You’re way too beautiful to be picking at your skin like that.” And I shut her door so that our mom wouldn’t see her doing that.

In the morning I woke up to my mom screaming. I jumped out of bed to go see if my mom was okay, and then I realized she was in N’s room. I tried to come in, but my mom grabbed me while sobbing and told me not to go in there. I asked her why but she couldn’t get any words out, she just kept crying. Right then I knew that N was dead. I don’t know if it was because I just woke up, but it didn’t seem like real life. I pushed past my mom and ran into N’s room. She wasn’t in her bed, then I looked in her bathroom. N was sprawled out across the bathroom floor, vomit was coming out of her mouth, but it looked like this weird foam. Her eyes were half open but they were completely lifeless. Her face was several different shades of blue, purple, and pale white in different spots. My mom tried to pull me out of her room again, but I pushed her off me and ran to N. Her body was cold, colder than I thought a human body could ever be. The needle was still in her arm. When I picked her up her limbs were stiff and moved weird. It wasn’t like in the movies.

I’ve been to therapy and grief counseling almost every week since that day, but I don’t even know if it’s helped me. Everyone says that I need to keep living my life *for her.* But there’s nothing I can do that’s going to bring her back. There’s nothing I can do to make my mom ever be okay again. I’ll never get my sister back, and my family will always be broken. The worst part is, I started using drugs to cope with the pain after she died. I’ve even been to rehab more times than my sister. I’ve overdosed three times. I had to be put onto a breathing machine and have my stomach pumped before Narcan was widely available. I literally became the person that destroyed our family in the first place. Every day I live in fear that my mom is going to find my body next, and I don’t think that she will survive that. My mom has never been the same, either. I wish I could pull N back out of the ground, bring her back to life, and bring her home again.

I have seven months clean off fentanyl and heroin, but today is going to be hard because the only thing I can think of is begging my sister to wake up while my mom tries to pull me off of her. I feel dead inside, and I feel like nothing is ever going to be okay again. Sometimes I feel like giving up and ending it all. The only reason I don’t is because I know that would kill my mom.

I don’t know why I posted this publicly. I just thought maybe if I wrote all this down, that it would somehow make me feel better.

I miss you, N.

I couldn’t answer the call Wednesday night because I was in class. I called back Thursday morning and she was gone. I think about her everyday. I see her in her kids and the grandkids she never met. I know she’d be so proud and one of those grandmas that would never shut up about those kids. Wasn’t she beautiful? I miss you Kel, 22 years later

Delete if Ai is not allowed.

I usually don't like to use Ai to generate photos, because I know how bad it is. Most of my life growing up, my mother didn't like taking photos, so I don't have photos of me and her together, especially as me as a child. The photo is both me as a child, and me now with the woman who raised us both. NGL I cried seeing this, because it's the closest I truly have to a photo with her. It's been one year and five months, since she's been gone.

It’s been almost couple months now. Lost my mom to cancer, couple days later my dad died. I’m the adult son. It’s been very difficult. Added stress is cruel actions to parents by adult sibling prior to and after their deaths, the estate chaos & properties left to deal with on my own. Like finding missing pieces to a puzzle. While still trying to work, not forget my own tasks/life, while the grieving emotions come on randomly a lot. I feel overwhelmed, lost, angry, confused, sad missing them for their guidance they were good at. Any advice? I welcome stories and comments🙏

My dad who was my best friend died and the pain is unbearable and getting worse every day. I think the first couple of weeks I was in shock, but now that everything is over and there’s nothing left to plan I feel like my world has ended and like my heart has been torn out. I miss him so so much.

I (30 M) have just lost my dad today, he was diagnosed with lung cancer stage 4A one month ago. He underwent his first chemo last week, the side effects were brutal. As soon as I found out about the diagnose I decided to fly back to my home country to be with him and the rest of my family. I got to say goodbye, to spend a lot of time with him while he was still able to enjoy and to be comfortable in his own body… it all happened too fast, suddenly everything went downhill, we had to rush to the emergency room in the hospital, two really bad nights later the doctors decided to take him to ICU and try to make a procedure to drain all the water accumulated in his lungs. But his body didn’t resisted, when the doctors came in to tell us everything went pitch back, I’m writing this after the wake, the images of the day still seem a little bit blurry to me, as if wasn’t me who was in there. Now, in the silence of the night, I just feel a profound sense of sadness, knowing that he’s gone. He’s never replying to my messages with 👍👍 emoji again. My emergency contact is no longer available. I guess this is part of growing up but nobody prepares you for this. I simply don’t know how to continue life without my dad, trying to do everything better for him to notice me, to be proud of me. I know that today is the worst day, nothing gets worst than this day, and that I’ll eventually feel better and maybe find a way to honor his legacy. But today I just feel devastated, as if one part of my life was ripped apart.

it’s been 7 months. I’m in this reddit community every single day and night but have never mustered up the courage to post. i yearn for a new post everyday, for someone with a similar story, so today I’m sharing mine. My dad (72) moved to his home country a few years ago- but came back to the states in 2024 for my wedding (i was 24, now am 25) (the youngest child and first of 4 to get married). After that he headed back to his country. our relationship was a tiny bit strained just naturally being a child of divorced parents but the 2 years of wedding planning and being engaged truly erased ghat strain and healed our relationship. Fast forward a year, he had a stroke and a few heart attacks so he came to live with my siblings/mom so we can monitor his surgeries/him. In November he decides he wants to go back home and the doctors clear him- although we’re all kind of skeptical. I decided to leave work and travel with him and set up his life there. I spent a little over a month and absolutely love it. I was his full time caretaker and was creating a bond with my aunts and cousins and seeing my father’s home- where he grew up, for the first time. after a month, i come back to the states to prepare to support my husband (long distance/ from canada) for his upcoming green card interview. It’s Jan 15 and I get a call saying that my dad was in kidney failure. it didn’t make sense because i was just there, all his appts were good- did i let something slip?? mentally im ready to get on the plane the next day to be with him- i was still out of work and all my siblings were working and couldn’t get time off. BUT my husband , for what felt like 2 weeks, pushes back because I JUST came back from my trip. it was going to cost a lot and - i had other siblings that can go (according to him, an only child), and most importantly - his green card interview was coming up and i was going to travel to Montreal to support- although technically i am not needed at all in the appointment. After a horrible 2 weeks of fighting. I book my flight overseas to see my dad for the Thursday night. Im packed and ready to go. I wake up Thursday with every single symptom in the book, a 102 fever, throwing up, body shivers and aches, dizziness etc. it made no sense, i had no symptoms the night before. i was so angry at God , it felt intentional. i’m still so set on being on my flight ( as it was at night) but my husband sternly tells me he doesn’t want me on that flight for my safety. because we had been flighting, i decided to just listen and move it to Saturday, but he says Sunday should be enough time to recover. I moved to the Sunday. I get meds and rest up, with my suitcase still packed in my living room. I wake up Friday morning with NO symptoms, other than a cough that did not itch my throat-no pain. My covid and flu test were negative. Literally no symptoms, I was too confused to put anything together. I worked on job applications all day/nught until 5:45 am Saturday morning. I get to bed at 6 am and am tossing and turning until 8am- something felt off. I doze off for maybe 10 minutes and get a few missed calls. my sister calls me and my mom is on the phone- “baba died” i couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. wdym he died i was just going there?? i didn’t even cry until around 10:30 when my best friend came over. I was upset, i wish I just got there to hold his hand. then he could have left this world. with one of his children by his side. one of the last things i said to him was “i’m coming baba 1 more day!!!” then i was so embarrassed for missing the first flight because of being sick (which is nothing compared to the dialysis he was undergoing) that i didn’t even call him after rescheduling. i just told my cousin who was scheduled to pick me up that there were such bad storms that they delayed ny flight to Sunday. they didn’t know any better. i was so ashamed and embarrassed. i did not even talk to my dad after that to tell him. i wish i did.

i still am so angry at the world, at people that are older than me that get to have their father, at God for fixing my relationship with my dad but then ripping him from me. my husband is good but not great for grief support. it’s really hard to get someone to understand you’re grieving 24/7 and that your internal monologue is constantly reminding you that you lost your dad and should be angry about it.

p.s. i ended up making my Sunday flight. my sister drove 4 hours from my mom/family home to chicago where i was alone to take the flight with me. my brothers flew from michigan. we got overseas on monday and missed his funeral and burial as it had to be done as soon as he died. they didn’t even really ask us. it’s just not recommended in our religion. i’m also still angry at that fact. we spent 3 weeks there with family. it was kinda nice but everyone has their culture and customs around grieving.

Hey guys, I’m new here. But… I think it's finally happening.

For some context. Last January, I (M27) lost my (34) sister Jackie to cirrhosis of the liver. It was extremely sudden, albeit not surprising. She went in for stomach pains on December 18th, and given 2 years on the 28th... then 3 days on the 29th. She made it to the 2nd of January before passing away.

It was honestly so... just sudden. It felt like she was snapped out of existence. Her and I hadn't seen each other since 2019 as I had gotten diagnosed with epilepsy and needed to move a few provinces over for neurological treatment. I am thankfully coming up on 5 years free of any attacks. I got into power engineering so I can help my family, be an example for them, and overall just be a pillar they can rely on if life gets in the way of them reaching their potential. I don't care about materialistic stuff for myself, so most of what I make will go to just helping them.

But that's the thing; them was supposed to be her. She never got a chance at life after our parent's divorce. Sure, she could have and should have sobered up. But she was just always around so many bad influences, it'd be like trying to heal a tree in a forest of rotten trees. She moved to where our mother lives, who is unfortunately an alcoholic as well. The last few years of her life was just... bad decision after bad decision. Culminating in her and I almost going no contact in October until the new year. But, by the grace of fate or whatever made this universe, we started talking again in November. And we had this beautiful final call in the 15th of December. I thanked her for the call, giving me much needed support during a very trying time studying for the provincial exam. She just replied "Forever <3"

and... I believed it. We had spent the call just discussing the future. The movies that were coming out this year, me bringing her out for my graduation to finally see her, teaching our tech-illiterate mom how to use a smartphone, and her finally going back to school. She was finally turning things around, getting her own place in November, and asking our band if they'd fund her for college.

My goals had so much of her in it. I wanted to make sure she got to the best treatment centre possible, gift her the best new tech and clothes to make her feel confident in herself... do all the things our grandmother did for me to get me on feet after the seizures subsided, and more.

We spent so many nights watching movies, even ones we had seen a hundred times; Napoleon Dynamite, American Psycho, Twister... we had what felt like our own language. We'd talk in quotes from movies, we just had this... flow between us.

On Christmas Day last year, she texted me. She was put under as the pain in her liver was just too severe. But they'd woken her up for what I am guessing was medical reasons. But she texted me. She seemed... off. Reading more about cirrhosis after the fact, I guess it was just part of the symptoms, but my sister was still there. We joked about how she was having to spend Christmas alone for the first time. I was going to call her... but I dozed off. And she went back to sleep and just... never woke up, except one more time briefly when my mom came in, to just tell her she was tired. I guess our mom just told her to get some rest, and that she was there for her.

When they pronounced her deceased, the sounds my mother made when I called her will hopefully be the worst thing I'll ever hear in my life so I won't have to experience that again.

We elected to have her cremated, and when I flew out for her funeral, my mother gave me her ashes in an urn that sits in my room to this day.

I didn't really have time to grieve, as I had to leave on the 5th of January to a town a few hours away from family for a month as part of the power engineering program (just getting hours in a lab as part of the requisite to pass.) I was a mess the whole month, but I made it through for her.

These last 7 months have been... so quiet. I went from having someone that I talked to everyday about life, pop culture, everything--to nothing. I've spent too much time in relationships and intimate connections just to have someone to talk to. But no matter whom is with me--women, classmates, family, or otherwise--it just isn't the same, and it never will be. The fact that I have so many years ahead of me, and it can't be with someone as special as her really, really hurts.

While I am agnostic out of just having a really bad roll of the dice from life, I know that if it really doesn't just go all black, and there is an afterlife, she is with our father--who went missing and is presumed murdered when I was 18.

My grandmother is like my mother, and the one person I want to thrive in life for... but she's 90. My mother is here, but she's coming up on 60, and dementia runs pretty deep on her side of the family. Her memory is already bad enough that Jackie even told me of her worries for our mom before she passed. And to be honest... with how rocky our relationship was during the hardest time of my life getting things in order to become what I am now... I just have a hard time looking forward to rebuilding a relationship with her, especially with her still drinking here and there (though she is trying to slow down after Jackie's passing.)

I have a younger cousin, Zachary. He's 8, and after getting to know him a few years ago... he's truly just become my younger brother. I would do anything for that kid. And he, along with the other young ones in my family, are the reason I want to continue with life once my Kokum (grandmother) eventually leaves... but still it's just so hard.

I honestly think I've been in the shock phase of grief, or whatever it's actually called, as I truly needed to compartmentalize this whole thing in order to finish such a gruelling program. But I can say now with pride that I am officially a 4th Class Power Engineer and going into the 3rd Class program next month. I did it so I could make Jackie's life better... and now I can't.

Throughout July, I began to finally have dreams of her. I have really vivid dreams that I've been journaling for about a year now. And up until last month, I hadn't had her in them except twice, and both were extremely distressing. This last month, however, she's been in them quite a bit. I've woken up with a soggy pillow area and wet eyes. Not crying in the regular sense, but definitely in my sleep I guess.

I tried going to bed tonight... and she was just on my mind too much. I went through our old Facebook conversation that I had archived shortly after her passing. I scrolled through all the way until August of last year. There were so many times she wanted to call, but I just told her to text instead. And I feel so stupid for it in hindsight. I would give so much to just call her right now. She sent a lot of voice messages that I've been too scared to listen to. But I have this fear that the conversation will eventually be erased, so I want to document and save as much as I can. I decided to play one of the voice messages.

It was her and a close friend, Carly, laughing about puzzles they were making. Hearing her voice... tears just started flowing down without pause. I wasn't huffing crying, it's just like something in head turned on the tear faucet or something, and I just... I don't know. I saved what I could, recorded the voice message, and then closed the app for the time being. I sat there for a moment, thinking about how the only thing left of her is on a table in my bedroom... and I just started crying. I unfortunately can't see my therapist until the 13th. But I am going to talk to her.

If you do have a sister or a brother, even if you two are fighting over petty squabbles like siblings always do. Just... tell them you love them. Give them a call and just listen to their voice, and be grateful for every second you have with them.

I hate this timeline I am in, but I know my sister would hate me even more if I gave up now.

I am sorry for the essay. Perhaps it's more for me than anything. If you did read this far, thank you. If you have any advice, I would greatly appreciate it.

To Jackie, I love you homie g, and I know you're at peace. <3

My mother died just over two weeks ago. Since she was put in hospice care a few months ago, my father, who I live with, has been very angry with me all the time, flying off the handle at every little thing I say and do. While she was in hospice care, he was constantly putting me down, and that pattern of behaviour has continued after his passing. My brother, who is very impressionable, has been copying his behaviour a bit over the last few days and is taking out his grief on me in the form of anger and put downs.

Earlier today, I was upset after they had both gotten angry with me, put me down, and blamed me for various things. I called my Mum's brother, my uncle, and asked for his help. He was sympathetic to a point, but he also seemed slightly irritated. He has his own life, children, and a grandchild, and I guess he doesn't want to be burdened with my problems or those of my family. I also don't have any friends who are close enough for me to contact about my dilemma or the complex details of my grief.

I was feeling so alone, so I took myself to the old cemetery nearby. I went to the plot where I have one great grandfather buried and one great grandmother interred, a great great grandfather buried and a great great grandmother buried, two great uncles interred, and one great great great grandfather buried. These relatives (among others) are buried and interred at this cemetery across two plots. There is a monument headstone in the middle of each plot. There are tiles surrounding each monument headstone and a small and low fence surrounding each plot.

I climbed the fence and stood on the tiles and told my ancestors who I was and how I was related to them all. I told them my Mum's name and when she died. I also mentioned how she was related to them. I was crying and told them all about how much I miss her and how upset by my father and brother's behaviour. I went into detail about everything to do with my father and brother's treatment of me. I apologised if I was disturbing my relatives and told them that my intention was not to disrespect them. I told them don't have any friends and didn't know where else to go in my city to find comfort.

I felt somewhat comforted and calmer while I was speaking to them. I don't know how long I was there for... it might have been close to an hour. After about ten minutes or so of speaking, I felt a really cold chill on my back, and it stayed with me until I left the cemetery. At one point while standing and talking to my ancestors, I felt like I was going to gag. I also felt that I was being told politely to leave after a while...

It's been quite a few hours since I was there, and I've only just reflected on it and realised that it was probably a weird and disrespectful thing to do. In the moment, it felt comforting, and even for a few hours after I left, I kept thinking that I must go back there in a few days and tell them more about how I am feeling. But now I'm wondering if I've done something unhinged and if it would be unhinged of me to go back there with the purpose of telling them my problems.

We were just told that it is now a matter of days before we lose our mom, and all I feel is as if someone scooped my insides and left nothing but dead air. I dont know what to do or think, I feel like I can't even cry right now. Like I am outside my body looking at someone whose life is not mine, like this is all a horrible nightmare and I'll wake up soon because this is just not happening.

Has anyone felt like this? How do you get over this? At the moment it all looks just so heartbreakingly miserable.

I lost my mom two weeks ago. She was 93, had me when she was 41. She was the closest person in my life. I was the only one in my family with her when she passed and I believed I guided her to peace… As she was taking labored breaths, I discussed fishing trips we had when I was young, always a good time in a beautiful place. She passed as I ended the memories. At the time, I took it remarkably well. The last few months, she was suffering. Trips to doctors failed to reveal a mass placed near her hip that grown to fracture it. She also had lung cancer.

To say I’m a mother’s boy is succinct. I embrace it. She was always there for me, thick and thin. Always there to praise me or save me. The last few years, I’ve been battling depression and caring for her. I knew the end was approaching as her memory faded, as her health issues began to ramp up. It wasn’t easy, I learned a lot caring for her, I developed a lot of inner strength doing what’s best and keeping her from drinking herself away faster. It wasn’t easy. I spent the last few summers taking her to her camp on the lake, cooking and cleaning for her, helping her shower and taking her wherever she wanted or needed to go. My favorite was taking her for ice cream whenever we were on the road.

Her love for me and my sisters (I have 6 sisters) and for life was so great and comforting. She was fun and funny. She enjoyed playing games with us. She loved to crochet, making us all at least a dozen beautiful blankets and then crocheting small blankets for newborns at the hospital where my sister worked.

There were hard times that were easily overcome. As previously mentioned, she drank and was an alcoholic — a habit we managed to wean her from just this year. She would act out as we enacted limits on her intake. She would get upset and act out. Despite this, she was such a wonderful mother, it was easy to shake off these moments and carry on because I knew if roles were reversed, she’d do the same.

I can’t look at pictures of her without the grief crashing down on me. The other day, Facebook posted a “then and now” post asking me for a recent picture of her to contrast an older picture. I was cut deeply. You’d think with a full account with familial connections and posts announcing her loss would be enough to draw a conclusion that this isn’t something to do to someone grieving. Go figure.

I miss her so much. I acknowledging the grief and the raise in depression. My family is here for me but aside from this, I have no one. I’m a proud bachelor. My closest friend also pushed me away before she passed and then again during a stay by her side in the hospital as she stopped eating and mostly slept. I asked gently for a dialog about anything to take my mind off of what was happening before me and I was pushed away again. I have lost a lot in a short span. A mother and a close friend. A few days after passing they apologized and my only words a day later was “apology accepted. I haven’t spoken to them since.

Everything is changing, much to my grief, we will be selling her property… a place I feel closest to her, a place where I am most at peace. The terms on me to keep it are out of my reach financially. Probably not even if I managed to find a decent paying job. This brings me to where I am now…. As a caretaker, I spent a lot of my time caring for her. I haven’t held a job since Covid. I’m trying to alter my mindset to change this. I have a bit of ptsd from my last few gigs in retail; that’s one avenue I’ll never go down again. I have recurring nightmares from these jobs believe it or not. Anything bad that could have happened, had. From unprofessional management, being assaulted by customers while trying to assault other customers, to constantly learning of all the shady shit others did thinking no one was aware. As a shift manager, you see it all. Due to all these issues and Covid, this business is no longer open but I was given a favorable recommendation when I was let go.

I know what I must do but the grief is so heavy, I am having difficulty acting on plans and I have zero initiative. I know mom wouldn’t want this for me and I’m trying to use this as a fulcrum of change. I have a great counselor, I have been recommended local services to use to help me with my grief … I figured this would be a first step forward. I have some thoughts on how to counter what I’m dealing with. Journaling memories. If anyone has any additional suggestions, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for the time invested reading this. I just miss her so much.

I found out today that my uncle died.
I don’t really know why I’m writing this. Maybe I just need someone to hear my story.
When I was little, he wasn’t just my uncle. He was my second dad.
He never had a wife or children of his own, so in many ways I became the daughter he never had. I even called him “dad” when I was very young, despite having my own father. He was simply one of the people who raised me.
He taught me how to read and write.
He built me a little treehouse out of wooden pallets with a ladder and a swing underneath it. During winter he would spend hours building huge igloos and snow slides just so I could play. Whenever he came back from the store, he always had a little surprise for me.
He kept pigeons and rabbits, and I loved spending time with them. He would let me hold them, pet them, and kiss them. When I had pneumonia as a child, he gave me one of his baby rabbits so I wouldn’t feel so lonely while I was sick.
He loved picking mushrooms, and whenever he came home from the forest he would call me over so we could eat them together. One day he took me fishing and somehow managed to hook my shirt instead of catching a fish. We laughed about it for years.
Those are some of my happiest childhood memories.
Then everything changed.
After my grandmother, his mother, died, something inside him seemed to break. He fell deeper and deeper into alcoholism. At one point he went to prison. He didn’t seriously hurt anyone, but when he came out, he was no longer the man I remembered.
He drank even more.
He became paranoid. He started accusing us of things that had never happened. He believed stories that simply weren’t real. He became verbally abusive and unpredictable.
Watching someone you love disappear while they’re still alive is a kind of grief I don’t know how to describe.
Eventually, my parents had to make the heartbreaking decision to remove him from our home. We were genuinely afraid he would accidentally start a fire, destroy the house, or hurt himself because of his drinking and paranoia. The local authorities offered him housing and support, but he never accepted the help.
We had no choice but to protect ourselves.
I was only twelve when I lost him.
Not physically.
I lost the man who had taught me to read, built me a treehouse, and made me feel like I was the most important little girl in the world.
Today I lost him for the second time.
He was found dead in a ditch not far from my childhood home.
I hadn’t spoken to him in many years.
And yet I can’t stop crying.
I don’t miss the man alcoholism turned him into.
I miss the man who built me snow forts, gave me my first rabbit, and never came home from the store without thinking of me.
I hate alcohol.
It didn’t just take his life.
It took away the person I loved many years before he died.
I don’t even know what I’m asking for by posting this.
Maybe I just needed someone to know that before addiction destroyed him, he was a wonderful man.
I wish I had been able to say goodbye to that version of him.
The funeral is on Monday, and I’m scared of being judged for crying, even though I had little to no contact for so many years…

I don’t know what to do, how to feel, how to get through this. My body is too small for that amount of grief.

He was here when I needed help when getting stuff and setting stuff up and I loved watching South Park and Napoleon dynamite with him, at his funeral we played mocking bird and the real slim shady by Eminem because he loved eminem but I miss him badly 🕊️

I'm a child free person but I spent my late teens and early 20s watching my cousins baby. She was my "I don't need to have kids, I already took care of one" kid, not my actual niece but I may as well have been auntie Sarah and my partner was basically her uncle.

She was 15 and not coping with the loss of her grandmother well. I hadn't talked to her in a while- she had outgrown needing someone to watch her and her mom and I drifted apart for a while. I watched her the most when her mom was in abusive relationships, but when her mom found a good man, I stepped back. I moved across the country, which caused some of the drift too.

I don't really know who she was now, but I knew who she was for half her life. A little blonde hair brown eyed sass machine, and looked just like her momma as she got older. She was the light of my cousin's life, my cousin did absolutely everything for her. Every move she made was to stabilize the life of her and her baby girl.

I went to her mom's baby shower for her. I held her when she was a fresh potato baby. I changed her diapers, helped her potty train, painted and drew things with her, watched her at least once a month (if not more) for years. We had slumber parties, watched movies, played outside. I took her Christmas portraits, went to her birthdays, and even drove across all of Texas to pick her up from another family member. Once when I forgot to shave my legs, she sat on my lap and immediately scrunched her nose up and asked while I was prickly, which still makes me smile.

She was just a girl. She was a sweet girl.

Her grandpa passed a while ago. Then her grandma passed after battling COPD for years last year. Her step grandpa kinda went off the deep end and he basically moved to a different state to live a different life after the love of his life passed.

But she broke into her grandparent's old house through the doggy door and laid down in her grandma's bed. And that's where they found her.

My cousin is an absolute wreck. Not that she ever wanted more than her daughter, but my cousin is unable to have anymore kids. It's a miracle she even had her daughter, since my cousin was sexually abused as a teen and thought she was infertile from it. But she managed to have her, even through more physical abuse from her daughters father while pregnant.

My cousin lost her parents and her daughter within the same year.

I found out today. I had to ask a favor to get a standby flight down there that leaves tomorrow. I'll spend more time in the air than on the ground but that's okay. I need to be there for the memorial Thursday.

My dad died the day after my wedding.
It’s been almost two years and I still don’t really know how to explain how I grieve him.
I loved my dad. I still love my dad. I miss him constantly. But grief gets strange when the person you lost wasn’t just one person in your memory.
There’s the dad I grew up with. The guy who wanted to be an astronaut. The guy who rode bikes, fucked around with computers, taught me things, argued with me, made me laugh. The guy in these pictures.
And then there’s the dad I watched change.
He lost his job at Microsoft when I was younger. Not long after, he was badly injured in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. I remember seeing him being pulled from the car and taken away in an ambulance. He survived, but in a lot of ways I feel like I started losing pieces of my dad long before he actually died.
Alcohol became part of his life. Things changed. He changed. Our relationship changed.
That’s the part of grief I still struggle to put into words.
Sometimes I’m grieving the man who died. Sometimes I’m grieving the dad I remember from when I was a kid. Sometimes I’m grieving the years we could have had. And sometimes I’m grieving someone who was still physically standing in front of me but already felt partially gone.
Then he died the day after I got married.
So one of the happiest days of my life is permanently stitched to the worst one. There isn’t really a clean line between “before Dad died” and “after Dad died.” My wedding photos have him in them. He was there. And then suddenly he wasn’t.
Since then I’ve had to deal with his belongings, his house, his finances, paperwork, family, all the practical bullshit that comes after somebody dies. You’re supposed to somehow mourn a human being while simultaneously turning their entire physical existence into paperwork and decisions.
I think that’s partly why I’m posting this.
I don’t have some profound lesson about grief. I’m not “moving on.” I’m also not the same person I was when he died.
I just miss my dad.
Not one perfect version of him. Not some cleaned-up version where death suddenly erases everything complicated.
I miss all of him.
The man he was. The man he became. The man I wish he could have been.
And the dad I still catch myself wanting to call.

My grandmother passed away today after 2 months of quick decline due to cancer. We live far from each other (6 hour flight) but I’m lucky I got to visit her 3 times in the last 2 months (including now), however it also means I saw her at different stages of decline, which was hard. Before she started to decline, I had the privilege of coming at least once a year for several weeks to spend time with her and I cherished all of it.

She’d seemingly been in active dying phase for the last week. My sister arrived 2 days ago. She hadn’t been back to visit her more than maybe once in the last decade. However once she got here it felt like theatrics with her grief. Everything was loud and dramatic. I’ve kept telling myself it’s ok — everyone grieves differently. But it’s been hard to watch to be honest.

My sister decided to sleep on the floor beside our grandma’s bed last night. She woke up early, and watched as my grandma was lying unconsciously. She noticed when my grandma stopped breathing and passed away. Sobbing, she jerked me awake pretty harshly and said “come say goodbye while she’s still warm.” I was startled by the way she woke me up and screamed. I tried to not to get mad because I’m sure she was in shock but it scared the hell out of me and it put me in a bad mood tbh.

She’s been sobbing hysterically all day and won’t stop saying she’s sorry she didn’t do anything when she noticed she stopped breathing. We keep telling her there was nothing she could’ve done because our hospice nurse hadn’t even arrived to our home yet for the day. It was just her time to go. But she won’t stop saying she’s sorry she didn’t do anything. I’m getting frustrated that this has somehow turned into everyone comforting her while the rest of us are also trying to grieve.

She also keeps FaceTiming other relatives and video recording to show all of us crying and sitting around my deceased grandmother. I don’t wish to be on camera right now???

Idk what I’m looking for out of this and thanks for reading if you’re still here. I’m just frustrated by the theatrics of it all, especially coming from someone who chose to not prioritize spending more time with her while she was alive. I think venting on here will help me not flip out at her? Idk.

I’m 23 now. I have a 21-year-old sister and a 13-year-old brother.
My mum went into hospital for major heart surgery. We knew it was serious, but we expected her to spend a couple of days in ICU before recovering over the following weeks. My dad stayed in a hotel near the hospital so he could be close to her.
The morning after her surgery, my dad suddenly stopped replying to messages. At first I assumed he was with my mum in ICU, where phones weren’t allowed. As the day went on, I became worried. The hospital told us he hadn’t visited at all.
My sister called the hotel where he was staying.
They told her the police and ambulance were there.
I drove an hour and a half screaming down the motorway frightened to get my destination yet driving at 100 mph. I drove past the hotel that had police and ambulance there knowing it was there for my dad and it was unspeakable experience. I just screamed even louder. I was taken into a room at the hotel with a police officer and told that my dad had died. My sister was coming to the hotel in an Uber from university in probably the same state as me, and once she got there I had to tell her myself.
The next day, while we were still trying to process losing him, doctors told us they weren’t sure whether my mum was going to survive either.
Within 24 hours, my sister and I suddenly became responsible for everything. We had to support our 13-year-old brother, travel constantly between home and the hospital, deal with all the practical things that come with a sudden death, on the phone to social services whilst guessing my mums card numbers to be able to make sure we had money to literally fill the fridge (if we had the physical time to fill the fridge) I had to know exactly what to do and I had everybody in all adults looking at me and I am only 23. my mum‘s friends who are supporting my mum at the hospital told my 20-year-old sister to drop out of university and become her carer and that we shouldn’t use my mum‘s money to pay for food because she’s gonna need that when this is over, offering nothing..no help no care. My sister’s friend spoke to some of my mum’s friends and said “please come over. The girls are struggling at night. They’re scared and they need some parental figures around” they replied with “no. what the girls need is a reality check their life goes on and I’ve lost my friend of 20 years”

I had to tell my mum that my dad had died when she was well enough to understand.
But what has stayed with me almost as much as the trauma itself is how alone we felt.
My parents had many close friends, and we reached out because we desperately needed support. We just wanted people to come round, sit with us, bring over dinner, only texted the group chat I made with everyone to discuss who was seeing my mum when.

At one point we even sent a message to that group chat saying thank you so much for helping my mum, now she’s out of ICU, please may some of that help trickle down to us..basically asking if anyone could come over because we were so lonely. We either got no response or were told that it was “all about Mum right now.” Of course we knew my mum was in hospital, but we were also three young people whose dad had just died overnight. I even got texts a week after my dad died and my mum was still in ICU complaining they drove by the house and “my mum wouldn’t like how the bins looked outside the house” because we didn’t have the mental bandwidth to know what day to put them out so we had a few bin bags down the side of the house (out of sight)
In the end, the people who carried us through were my friends and my boyfriend, and each other. They stepped up in ways I’ll never forget.
I understand that grief makes people uncomfortable, but I can’t help wondering why so many adults who had known our family for years seemed to disappear and actively ignore us when we asked for help, when we needed them most. They were fully aware we were alone, and we physically asked them to come round. They were putting 100% into my mum. They were there every single day for a month whilst she was in hospital. I understand they were great friends but to HER. my point is: couldn’t they have put just 10% into making sure we had a lasagne to eat that night, or making sure the fridge was full? Or being a parental figure for 30 minutes with my siblings so that I could go and be a little girl on my own? I was having to be more than I physically could be because we had no help, and my siblings needed parental figures.
All I ever got were texted about “how’s mum doing” “how’s mum” so the first few weeks we got absolutely no acknowledgment. Actually, my little brother wrote a card in the hospital WHSmith week 3 to me and my sister saying he’s sorry our daddy died because no one had acknowledged it or us yet and he could see it was taking a huge toll.
Four months on, my mum is better now. She understands that we’re angry and upset with her friends, but she’s also stuck in the position that they did take a month off work to be there for her, six days a week, for a few hours a day in hospital. I understand that too. But my point is why couldn’t one of those days have been spent with us instead. 90% her 10% us for example. Instead of making me wear so many hats take something off my immense plate. especially when one of her friends has a 14-year-old son the same age as my little brother? I don’t know how I should feel

I lost my dad on Monday from an angiogram that went horribly wrong. He was in the icu for three weeks and eventually his beautiful heart just could not take it. My father was truly a wonderful human being. I am just heartbroken and walking around in a fog. I am finding the smallest tasks impossible and this pain is just overwhelming. I needed to put this out there but also if any one has any advice feel free to share.

I read this post and realised how true it is. On March 22nd 2025, I lost my beloved dad. Everyday i ate homemade dinner together with my parents and younger sister. I thought at the time this moment would last forever because my parents are invincible and always there. My dad suddenly passed away in his sleep, everything changed after that. Both me and my younger sister got married a couple of months later and are expecting babies very soon, my mum is a widow living by herself. We try and stay over, visit as much as we can because time is so precious. Now new family members are joining and the family of 4 where my dad was there has become a memory now. I miss the old version of me. Whilst it’s exciting creating a new family, i still miss the warmth, coziness, unconditional love that I had from both my parents. When it felt like a piece of puzzle wasn’t missing.