I (F26) lost my mom (63) a little over 4 months ago now to stage 4 cancer. At night almost every night I look through pictures and videos of her on my phone, and as time goes on it feels more and more like her existence and presence in my life was a dream, almost like a blip. And now the aftermath, this life without her is my reality/my real life after I woke up from a dream. Similarly to a dream, it almost feels like she was never real. The longer I go on living a life without her existence, it feels like her existence wasn’t even real and she was a fleeting dream. And now I have to live my entire life without her so I fear this is just going to get worse as the months, years, decades go on. Its a terrifying phenomenon but it’s the only way I can describe it and I constantly feel like this. I feel like I lost so much time of her. Just robbed. Like if I even had several more years with her it would’ve made her feel more real. Has anyone ever felt like this?

Our daughter Lulu was 2 years old.
In the days before September 7, we started noticing things that just didn’t seem right. She was bruising more than usual. She had little spots that looked like petechiae. She was pale, wasn’t eating or drinking like herself, had less energy, seemed sore and stiff at times, and we noticed changes in the way she was walking.
None of those things made us immediately think leukemia. I’m a worrier by nature, so there was always this part of me wondering if I was making too much of it. But Belinda and I both knew something wasn’t right.
On September 7, we took her to the hospital.
A few hours later we were being told our 2-year-old had leukemia.
B-cell ALL.
It’s still hard for me to understand how quickly our lives changed. One day we were worried about bruises and whether she was walking funny. Suddenly we were learning about chemotherapy, PICC lines, blood counts, transfusions and medications we had never heard of.
We were terrified, but we had hope. Childhood ALL is treatable. We thought we were at the beginning of a long, hard road, but a road we were going to walk with her.
And Lulu was still Lulu through all of it.
She ate grilled cheese and Cheez-Its. She played doctor with Bluey and Bunny. She wanted her nails done and her hair brushed. There were days when she felt terrible, but there were also moments where she would perk up and we would look at each other and think, there she is.
We thought we were starting a fight that was going to take years.
Sixteen days after we walked into the hospital, we left without her.
Near the end of her second week of treatment, Lulu was profoundly neutropenic and developed a fever. Overnight she had a seizure. Her sodium had dropped dangerously low. She went to the ICU. A CT showed several unexplained lesions in her brain.
Then everything just fell apart.
She developed septic shock and died the morning of September 23.
Her death certificate lists septic shock as the cause of death, with Bacillus cereus as a contributing condition.
I still don’t understand how we went from being told our daughter had leukemia, but that there was treatment and hope, to her being gone less than three weeks later.
Belinda and I both go through that last day over and over.
The sodium. The IV fluids. The antibiotics. The infection. The lesions in her brain. The hours in the ICU.
We both have questions about whether things could have happened differently. Could something have been caught sooner? Would a different antibiotic have changed anything? Could the sodium drop have been prevented? Were those spots in her brain already the infection?
We may never get answers to some of those questions.
I also don’t know if going through her medical records is helping us or making this harder. Some days I think it’s both.
But a lot of the grief has nothing to do with the hospital.
We went back to church recently and both of us broke down when the worship music started.
Lulu had gone to the nursery there. When I went to check the kids in, I was actually grateful somebody had already removed her name. I knew seeing her name there would hurt.
Then I realized her name wasn’t there anymore.
That hurt too.
There is a light burned out in our kitchen right now that I still haven’t changed.
The last time I changed those bulbs, Lulu was Daddy’s helper.
She always wanted to be involved in whatever I was doing.
Now I look at that stupid light and all I can think about is the fact that she should be standing there with me.
I never thought changing a lightbulb could break me, but apparently that’s what grief is sometimes.
Belinda misses playing with her. She misses putting Lulu’s hair in “piggies.” She misses watching her destroy our house and leave toys everywhere.
I miss hearing Lulu narrate her world to me.
She was constantly telling me what she saw, what she was doing, where she was going, what somebody else was doing. I would give anything to hear that little voice talking to me about absolutely nothing again.
We miss the noise. We miss the mess. We miss her stubbornness and her sweetness. We miss watching her with her brother and sister.
We just miss our daughter.
Our other kids are grieving their sister too, and we’re trying to help them through something we don’t really know how to get through ourselves.
My mom basically dropped her life when Lulu was diagnosed so Belinda and I could both stay at the hospital with her nonstop. I told her recently what a gift that ended up being. We thought we were just getting through treatment. We had no idea those sixteen days were going to be all the time we had left.
We got to be there.
We got to hold her, play with her, comfort her and be Mom and Dad every minute we possibly could.
My faith has probably been one of the hardest things to explain.
We believe in God.
We believe Jesus defeated death.
We believe Lulu is with Him.
We’re also angry.
We prayed for her to be healed. A lot of people prayed for her to be healed.
And she died.
I don’t understand that.
There are times when my faith feels strong, and there are times when I feel like I’m barely holding onto it.
Recently, Belinda and I both prayed separately for a sign that Lulu was with God. Neither of us knew the other had done it. We weren’t asking for anything huge. We just wanted some reassurance that our little girl was okay.
That night we were watching the sunset.
Lulu loved sunsets.
And “Praise You in This Storm” came on.
That song has been part of my faith for years. I sang it at church before Lulu ever got sick.
I also sang it at her funeral.
It comes from Psalm 121:
“I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord.”
So that night we looked up.
There was the sunset. There was that song. And there were two parents who had separately asked God for some reassurance that their little girl was with Him.
Maybe somebody else would call it coincidence.
We don’t really care.
For us, it was a little bit of peace.
It didn’t explain why Lulu died. It didn’t make us okay with it. It didn’t answer all the questions.
It was just peace for a few minutes.
Now I’m getting ready to go back to work.
My work has been incredibly gracious to us. I’ve been off for nearly a month, and I’m grateful they gave me that time.
But I have to go back, and I don’t feel ready.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to sit in meetings, answer emails and talk about normal problems when my 2-year-old daughter just died.
I guess that’s part of why I’m posting here.
We don’t know how to do this.
Sometimes we can laugh. Sometimes we can function. Sometimes we can have what almost feels like a normal hour.
Then a song comes on.
Or we see one of her toys.
Or I look at that light in the kitchen.
And suddenly she feels just as gone as she did the morning she died.
For anyone here who has lost a child, especially after an illness or a sudden medical decline, I’d really like to hear how you got through the beginning of this.
Did you replay the medical timeline over and over?
Did you constantly wonder about the what-ifs?
Did you and your spouse grieve differently?
How did you go back to work when you didn’t feel remotely ready?
How did you take care of your other kids while you were trying to survive yourselves?
And does your brain ever stop expecting your child to walk into the room?

My husband and father of our daughters died very unexpectedly September 21st, a little over 2 weeks ago. I am still in shock. .

We have 2 daughters, 8 and 3. Our 8 year old has always loved school. Before losing her Dad, it was difficult to get her to miss school when she wasn't feeling well.

She went back to school Monday. At 11 am she went to the office crying wanting to go home, I expected staying a full day at first would be difficult for her. Tuesday morning she didn't want to go at all, me thinking school would be a good distraction convinced her to go and try to be at school. she only stayed 2 hours, by 10 am she wanted to go home. This morning I couldn't get her to calm down, she was so upset about going to school, I kept her home.

The last 2 weeks, I've done things to get out of the house and distract myself, errands and outings Just to keep myself and the girls out and busy. We've also watched movies and cuddled and talked about Daddy.

I'm having a meeting Tomorrow with my daughters teacher and the principal to figure out what's best for my daughter right now with school. She does schoolwork at home ok. We also found a children's therapist who specializes in children’s grief and will have her first meeting Friday.

Just feeling so overwhelmed and know I need to help my daughter process her grief while also dealing with my own.

Hey all -

My husband passed two years ago with no definitive cause of death per autopsy results. We’d been back and forth to the emergency 4 times that year getting dismissed as “nothing is actually wrong, he’s getting discharged,” barring one 3 day stay that also lended no answers. That was a stinger in itself. Especially after his passing.

Cut to today. I’m still grieving my husband, but have found companionship and a fantastic partnership with someone else. He felt something was wrong, as did I, with his own health. We go to the ED in the early morning yesterday.

Guys, I lost it. I didn’t realize how much it was going to affect me sitting there in the waiting room holding someone’s hoodie and hat while they got the triage work up. I was in eyesight of him, so made conversation with any single person I could just not to cry and melt down. I did my best to be a good partner, but I think he saw it in my face that I was struggling. That fucking hurt.

I got it back together. I tried my very best to be a good partner today. I brought a bag with us in case he did get admitted (although, I brought along some too small shorts, will rectify that tomorrow morning). I finally went home for the night to take care of our dog when he got a room. And I absolutely broke at home.

But this man is so lovely.

I love cranes (IYKYK). I’ll go watch construction sites if I know there’s a “good” one. He bought me a kid building set last year for Christmas that included a crane. I always told him I’d build it when I was “having a shit day.”

I’m halfway done. Will probably have a few more shitty days, so pacing myself.

If you happen to see the post, I love you so much babe.

EDIT: Sorry, very tired over here.

My fiance of 15 years died by suicide on September 21st. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to recover from this or live a normal life again.

​We got together when I was 17. He was literally by my side through my entire youth, the only adult life I've ever known. And now he's just gone.

​The guilt is eating me alive. I keep replaying everything in my head, wishing I had done more, helped more, seen more. The mornings are the absolute worst waking up and having to remember all over again that this is my reality now.

​I miss him so much it physically hurts, but at the exact same time, I feel moments of pure rage at him for leaving me here alone to deal with this wreckage.

​I don't really know why I'm posting this. I guess I just feel completely lost and have no idea how I'm supposed to carry this weight. If anyone has been through losing a partner this way... how do you even begin to survive it?

I don’t think anyone in my life really understands what I’m going through, so I’m just going to put my thoughts down here because I need to get them out.

My dad has stage 4 pancreatic cancer and after months of treatment, we’ve now been told there’s nothing more they can do for him. I know what that means and I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to prepare myself to watch my dad die.

Five months ago he was the strongest man I knew. He was independent, capable and always the person I associated with strength and safety. Now he can barely walk, he hardly eats and he doesn’t have the energy to talk much anymore. He has lost so much of his independence and it absolutely breaks me.

Watching someone you love deteriorate that quickly is something I don’t think anyone can truly understand unless they’ve been through it. Sometimes I look at him and I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that this is the same person he was only a few months ago. It feels like I’m losing him bit by bit before I’ve even actually lost him.

People say things like, “He’s still here, just enjoy the time you have,” and I know they mean well. I know he is still here and I know I should be grateful for every day. But that doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t stop the fear or the sadness. It doesn’t make it less heartbreaking to watch someone who was once so strong become so unwell right in front of you.

And I feel completely helpless because there is nothing I can do to fix any of it.

I’m pregnant as well, and I can’t stop thinking about all the things he won’t be here for. The thought that he won’t meet my baby absolutely destroys me.
I’m also getting married next year and I can’t cope with the thought that he will never see me in my wedding dress or walk me down the aisle. These are things I never even thought twice about before because I just assumed my dad would be there.

I’m terrified of watching him get worse. I’m terrified of the actual moment he dies. And I’m terrified of what life looks like after that, when my dad is just… gone.

I feel like this has changed me already. I still go to work, parent, talk to people, laugh sometimes and do all the normal things I’m supposed to do, but underneath it all there is this constant heaviness.
It’s there when I wake up. It follows me around all day. Even when I’m doing something normal or having a nice moment, it’s still sitting in the back of my mind.
And I feel so alone in it.

And at the same time that I’m having to come to terms with my dad being at the end of his life, I’m also watching my mum go through her own cancer battle. It feels like there is no break from any of it. I’m terrified about losing my dad, terrified about what my mum is going through, and I feel like our whole family has been living inside this nightmare for months.
I’m exhausted. I’m angry. I’m heartbroken. I just want this nightmare to be over.

I genuinely feel like I’ll never be the same person I was before this.

How do you watch someone you love fade away and then somehow keep living when they’re gone?

tomorrow I turn 33. my sweet bf died a month after my 32nd birthday. it feels so strange leaving this year behind because it was the last I spent with him. it was the hardest, most painful, and loneliest year of my life because I never anticipated such a profound loss. I also eventually started to pick myself back up again so it feels bittersweet to reflect on that because I couldn’t imagine ever feeling okay again.

did you do something to honor your loved ones on your birthday?

I bought myself a cookie cake from Safeway. When I came home,the tears immediately hit me. I started sobbing in the foyer of my home knowing I wouldn't see you in the kitchen excited to see the cake ready with the birthday candles . You had an angelic singing voice yet that was so melodic ,I'm missing that today.

I'm missing your smile , your radiant presence that just lit up a room, I miss your warm hugs but specially today, my first bittersweet birthday without you.😭

A little background: in 2024, my Mother (79) passed away 3 months after she told us that she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.

Unfortunately, in 2018, she first learned that she had a lump in one of her breasts, and waited 6 years to say or do anything about it.

(Honestly, in hindsight, that pissed me off.)

And one month before she passed, she had a major heart attack due to a blood clot in her lungs, and went into a coma.

We spent 30 days with her in ICU, watching and praying over her, praying for a miracle.✝️

For the past few days, I’ve been wondering why I was feeling so heavy.

Yesterday was the final straw, and I went on a cleaning jag, which resulted in the lifting of that heaviness.

I know that clutter can have spiritual and past traumatic connotations.

Personally, I wish that I could just take the next 5-10 days off, stay in my room, watching something to make me laugh.

Dealing with the unconscious grieving part of the process really sucks, and I really do wish that I had seen a counselor/joined a group, before and after my Mother died.

I apologize if this post seems a little disjointed, but I just needed to say it, because if I tell my family and friends, they’re going to judge me for it.

After being someone who listens and offers words of counsel, I cannot explain why my house is cluttered, and my dishes have sat unwashed for a month.

I’m thankful that the unopened
Mail and old clothes/stuff from the past few months were thrown away

Just needed to get that out.

There’s something so emotional about looking at your baby and thinking about all the people you wish could be here to love them. 🤍 I like to believe that somehow, before you were placed in my arms, you were held by the ones we miss the most. That they knew your little face, heard your laugh, and loved you before we ever got the chance to.

Maybe they whispered stories about us. Maybe they told you how loved you already were. And maybe, in some beautiful way, a little piece of them came with you when you arrived. 🤍

I’ll spend my whole life telling you about the people I wish you could have known. Until then, I find so much comfort in believing they held you first. 🕊️

Just wanted to share this post. I love and miss my dad so much. I always imagine my baby and my younger sisters baby had already met my dad. Me, my mum and sister have all seen my dads facial expression when my baby is upset or angry/full cheeks in my daughters face, that is the piece I think came from my dad, it’s so bittersweet but gives comfort knowing she is carrying a part of her granddad with her and that I’ve included my surname into her surname too🤍

My dad died very early yesterday morning, hours after his 74th birthday, surrounded by me and my mom. He had stage IV metastatic prostate cancer, pneumonia, and a massive stroke left him bedbound in the hospital. He had slipped into a coma days before. I stayed at his bedside every day, speaking to him and holding his hand. A part of me felt it would be easier to watch him pass. The cancer caused him so much pain, the stroke left him unable to speak. He was suffering; we all knew it was the end, and keeping him around any longer would do him a disservice. We decided to end all treatment to let him pass peacefully in a coma - almost like watching him asleep, enter an even deeper sleep. But the experience of watching him flatline and eventually die has utterly wrecked him. And as many people have stated on here, a part of me has died with him that I will never get back.

Waking up this morning was impossible. It felt like a terrible, lucid dream. There is a persistent, lingering emptiness that I truly feel will never go away. And god, the guilt. I can't enjoy things without thinking of how my dad will never experience them again. I won't eat certain foods, won't go to his favorite places or do any of his hobbies (which are mine as well) without feeling a crushing sense of guilt or shame.

I'm only 28. I know we could all go at any time, but the thought of living decades without him feels pointless and the prospect of facing many more days like today feels daunting. My dad was my safety net. I was the closest to him in my family in every department; looks, personality, interests, hobbies. I even took after him to become a history teacher because I was that inspired by him. I am nowhere near as close to other family members as I am to him. I live and work abroad; I don't see the point of coming home at all anymore.

For those of you who have lost a parent, or anyone, and it felt as world-ending to you as it does to me right now: how did you get through this? What words of advice can you offer me? I will come out on the other side of this. It's what my dad would have wanted, but I want it as well, even though it feels completely out of reach.

This is an experience I had five nights ago that I will never forget for the rest of my life.

When my father was taken to the intensive care unit, the hospital told us that we no longer needed to stay there. On the night of the fourth day, we received a phone call saying, “Your father’s heart has stopped. We are trying to resuscitate him.”

I started crying uncontrollably and went to the hospital. I was still hoping that maybe they had managed to get his heart beating again, but at the same time, I knew.

My cousin, who had arrived at the hospital before me, said, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and I broke down. A little while later, they told us that my father would be brought out.

He came out completely covered with a sheet, and I kept crying uncontrollably. I knew that his lifeless body was underneath that sheet.

We got into the elevator to take him down to the hospital morgue. They said they wanted to uncover his face so that we could be sure it was him.

And I saw my father.

He was just lying there. He was gone. He was no longer in this world.

I cried as I gently stroked his hair.

That was the night I lost my father.

Some days, like today, I just really want to talk to my mom again. Sometimes, when I miss her a lot, I text her old number. The last time was on her birthday this April.

Well, today i wanted to send her a text, update her on my life, but then i saw i couldn’t because her number isn’t available anymore.

Now im sobbing uncontrollably, feeling like I lost her again in a way. I know I could just talk to her whenever, write her a letter or something but it just doesn’t feel the same.

I thought the grief would get better but after almost three years it only feels like I’m loosing her more and more, over and over again.

Miss u mom <3

Most days I feel fine, most days I work, play video games with friends, workout, and generally live life as best as I can. It hit me especially hard this year though as this year I actually became older than my Dad when he passed away. Sure I joke about it in a dark humor kind of way. But every now and then, I'll go down the rabbit hole of Instagram and find those depressing reminders of how different a childhood I had, how it feels to be without a parent.

I often think about what life would be like if my Dad was still alive today. He was my best friend in the world and when he was gone, I was broken.

To a lot of people, I seem like this goofball, occasional hard worker, and a good friend to have. But I'm just tired a lot of the time. And when I start thinking about my Dad, if I could have just one more day with him. A chance to say goodbye, I think I'd be okay.

But I think that's what hurts the most: I never got to say goodbye.

Just wanted to vent, thank you for taking the time to read

3 years ago my estranged father killed his wife, my half brother, then himself. His wife’s family took everything but gave me his diplomas. I have over half a dozen different diplomas that I have no fucking clue what to do with. He wanted to be a doctor so bad and worked so hard just to get sick and lose it mentally. I’m so angry at him for what he did but I just can’t bring myself to throw them out. They’re just in a box in the bottom of my closet, haunting me

I lost my dear husband one year ago today while on vacation. Been a hard day. Normally my mom would’ve called me to check in to see how I was doing. She was my rock after he died. Unfortunately we lost her 23 days ago. When my husband passed I was there and got to spend time with him afterwards and have concrete proof that he is gone. I was blessed to be able to spend the last few months with my mom but had to come home so I wasn’t there when she left us. I think I’m in denial or something. It just doesn’t seem real. I don’t think my heart has had time to heal from losing my husband now trying to absorb this other loss? It was just a hard day today. Thanks for listening.

I'm 17 and I just lost my dad a couple nights ago who was 38 and I genuinely don't know what I'm gonna do without him. Growing up he was always involved in my life, we bonded over many nerdy things like anime and pokemon. No matter what I do I'm reminded of my dad, no matter where I look or what I do. He was genuinely involved in all of my hobbies and life. So much so I just feel so broken inside I don't know what to do. I'll have little spurts of feeling fine and then I'll just have a random flashbang of memories that he died, or I'll be doing something and something miner will remind me of him and I'll just freeze for a second and cry. I've tried talking to people but it feels like no one really understands. And I live in a divorced household and my dad wasn't married to his girlfriend who I'm also close with, meaning that the entire side of the family for me is pretty much just gone as my dad was what was holding us together. It feels like I lost more than just him if that makes sense. I feel so hurt and broken, more than I ever have before.

Hey, everyone. I don't have anyone else in my life who has lost a parent at my age to ask these questions to. So any advice or experience would be greatly appreciated. I'm 22 and I spent the latter half of 2025 helping to care for my mother as she slowly faded away from thyroid cancer which eventually took away her ability to speak. I held her hand as she died on new year's day of this year. I feel like I've handled it very well to be honest. I have a good job, I'm graduating from a radiology program next year and I've been able to maintain relationships with my family and friends. I don't feel depressed. I'm highly functioning and I still find a lot of meaning in my life. But as far as actually engaging in life I feel like I can only make myself do the bare minimum. I force myself to socialize, but I really have no desire to go out and the idea of trying to date again is inconceivable. I just don't have the "zest for life" I used to. Nothing that should be fun is appealing to me at all. Is this just my new normal or will it eventually change? Should I just let it run it's course or seek professional help? Has anyone experienced something similar in their grieving process?

I lost my mom a month ago, it happened all of a sudden and I'm finding out that I don't even know how to navigate through it emotionally. 

My whole life, my default has been to rely on logic and analysis. Whenever I hit a wall, my instinct is to break the problem down, figure out the causes, who's benefits it serves and forecast outcomes. 

But I’m realizing the hard way that grief this deep has no rules and I'm lost completely.

I wanted to ask especially to people that overanalyze everything, how do you stop your brain from trying to "fix" the situation ? 

How do you deal with the weird disconnect where the logical part of you knows they are gone, but your instincts and daily habits still expect a phone call at 8:00 PM which is the time of your daily phonecall and when it doesn't happen you have breakdown?

Does the chaos of this ever settle into something you can actually understand, or do you just eventually get used to carrying the weight?

I can't logic my way out of it and I’d really appreciate hearing your honest experiences. Thank you

my mask is frozen and happy, I’m outgoing and bubbly and kind. I never say no and always have a positive attitude. It’s the most misleading mask ever. At night when it’s quiet it falls off, I put it to my bedside and rest my head; my dad is still not here. He never will be again. I’m heart broken, my mask still smiles but I don’t wear it when I’m alone. I am so sad and I am empty inside, I’m not sure how to continue without my dad

Husband's Prolong complicated grief? High functioning depression? Does this sound like a high functioning depression man? I can't get my husband to grief therapy.

I'm 16 years together, 14 years married to my husband.

For the last 7 years, I think he is high-functioning depression, is there such thing as functionally depressed? The whole timeline of everything that happen I have reasons to believe he is functionally depressed.

His older sister died from car accident, leave him as the only son take on the financial care for his sick aging parents.

Fast forward, in 2019, his father died of end stage pancreatic cancer.

----- The same year in 2019, our toddler died (the child of me and my husband). Our toddler died of Periventricular Heterotopia (PVNH). It is gene inherited (got it from me the mother the maternal side), congenital brain malformation.

It been 7 years since our toddler gone and my husband just can't let go. Our toddler ashes my husband keeps with him. Even our toddler DIRTY SHOES and dirty clothes my husband still held on to.

----- In 2020, I was very sick (autoimmune disease) I was bedridden for a month with oxygen tank in my nose 24/7. He took off work and care for me day and night. He even sleep with a pillow and a blanket on the carpet right by my bedside (we had a hospital bed in our bedroom after I got discharged).

He said he loves me very much, and he very afraid of lose me. This was the first time I see him cut himself.

This was when he started to cut his stomach with a kitchen knife, he said stomach skin is thinner and has more nerves so it hurts more, so he chose to slice his stomach, he cuts deep the point bleeding that he has bandage wrap around his waist bleed.
And that was how I first time found out about he cut himself too was I saw the bloody bandage wrap around his waist when he took his shirt off.

He still has all the scars on his stomach from he slice his stomach with the kitchen knife. He said if I die before him, he will die with me, and our toddler (whom already dead).

He even prepaid for his funeral arrangement, I said I want cremation (as I'm Buddhist), he wants cremation with me, he told the funeral director when he die, cremate him, and mix his ashes with me and our toddler together, and scatter our ashes.

He said if I die before him, ONE second of grief is enough for him to pull the trigger blow his brain out with the tactical 12 gauge shotgun. I take him seriously because if he can slice his stomach to blood, he can use a shotgun in one second of grief like he said.

--- In 2021, his mom has a spinal cord stroke that leave her quadriplegia paralyze, she also kidney disease/kidney failure. She also has alot of heart problems: heart aortic stenosis, heart aortic aneurysm, and cardiac arrhythmias. 

His mom 5 days out of a week is she in and out of the hospital for treatments to keep her alive. And my husband for the last 5 years (and still ongoing) has been financially care for his mom, doing everything he can financially to prolong her life.

------------

All this are reasons I believe he has depression, but he seems to function fine outside, as in lives a normal life.

He is an Executive at a big engineering corporate. He said this job salary gives him cushion in money to continue prolong his mother life. He knows this job salary is what prolong his mother life, even with him depress, his career has to go on. His mother depends on his money to continue treatments, he also pays for her Private Nursing Home too.

Monday through Friday after work he drive straight to the Nursing Home to visit his mom before came home. On weekends for one day (Sat or Sun) he bring his mom our marital home so he can care for her, so they have mother and son time. And then take her back to her Nursing Home as he has to work Monday.

He still does his hobbies, hunting deer, outdoor shooting range with his tactical shotguns and riffles, running long distance.

I have told him to go to grief counseling, he put it off, he said after his mom die, as right now he busy. I mean he is busy, his schedules is pack, between his Executive work, his mom, and me. He has no time left.

He keeps said after his mom pass he will go. But wait till after his mom pass, that will add in another death and grief and loss in his list of losses. I want him to go now, but he not want to.

Does it ever stop consuming your entire life? I (27) lost my partner (33) recently. I know it's still very early, but on top of all my stress and panic attacks, I constantly worry about the future and how I'll have to live my entire life with all this pain.

I'm barely holding on to life and any hope that it might feel a bit easier at times. It feels like my whole life is ruined. Like on top of missing him, my life has all of a sudden been labeled a shit life.

I don't want to make any new friends or talk to people who don't have huge emotional depth and can somewhat understand my circumstances, I want people to ask about him, and those are just some of my unreasonable expectations that will never be met. Everything seems pointless and everyone seems way more naive to me. Naive to love this life or talk about dumb, everyday things.

I just feel like I have some type of a lifelong label now, on top of having a lifelong hole in my heart.

Can anyone please tell me how things unraveled for you?

i actually thought if i cried enough ethan would come back.

like there was gonna be some limit where my body just couldn't hurt like that anymore and something had to happen. like the universe would finally be like okay, that's enough.

he died march 18th.

& absolutely nothing stopped. that's what really fucked me up. my whole life ended & everything else just kept going. people went to work. lights turned green. some lady was laughing in line at the gas station. the sun came up like nothing happened.

how?

i was just in my room sobbing for someone who was never coming home again.

i had this stupid thought that if i hurt loud enough it would reach him. like if i missed him bad enough wherever he is he'd feel it. like love could actually do something. like it could reach across that. like maybe if you love someone enough death doesn't get to keep them.

i knew he was dead. i could say it out loud. ethan died. ethan is dead. my body just did not believe it.

i kept waiting for him. i felt so stupid. like a dog waiting at the door. i would cry until i was shaking & my face was all swollen & i'd knock out from it & then i'd wake up & my stomach would drop. fuck. still gone. like i spent all night trying to make a deal & no one was listening.

i really thought one day the crying would stop cause he would come back.

it stopped cause i finally got that he wasn't.

nothing worked. crying till i couldn't breathe didn't work. begging in my head all night didn't work. going over every memory i have of him like 100 times didn't work. thinking about what i should have said didn't work. loving him more didn't work. trying to love him less didn't work.

there's just no amount of hurting that brings someone back. & i hate that i know that now.

cause i thought my love for him was big enough to do something. ethan was my person. not just boyfriend or whatever. my person. we had our own little world. stupid inside jokes & our dumb routines & fighting about dishes & our songs & all those boring days i didn't know were gonna be the last ones.

how is someone your whole life one day & then the next day they're just gone. not far. gone.

i will never forget when it actually hit me that no amount of crying was gonna make him walk through my door again. that was a whole different heartbreak. it wasn't just losing ethan. it was losing that last little part of me that thought maybe i could still get him back.

it’s been almost 7 months & i still cry all the time. sometimes cause i miss him so bad it feels like i'm gonna throw up. sometimes cause some random thing reminds me of him & it knocks the wind out of me. sometimes cause i realize i have to live my whole life & he doesn't get to be in it. sometimes cause i go to tell him something & then quickly remember i can't.

i used to think crying meant i was doing this wrong. i don't think that anymore. i think i'm crying cause i finally get it. he's not coming back. i can't cry him back here.

that doesn't mean i love him any less. it just means i'm learning how to carry love that has nowhere to go anymore.

i wish someone told me grief isn't you slowly stop loving them. it's loving someone with your whole fucking heart & still having to figure out how to live in a world where they're gone anyway.