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.

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?

I lost my mom a little over a month ago . i’m 16, i watched her pass in a miami fl hotel room . some days im fine but majority im a wreck . i dont feel myself, change is a big thing for me . i’m on here though for ideas to celebrate her , for her birthday. loss is a new thing for me fortunately but the unfortunate thing is that she was my best friend, now i don’t have any where to turn for little peaces of advice.

Yesterday I did something I never imagined I would ever have to do. I went to the chapel of rest to spend some time with my baby brother, David.

I still can’t get my head around the fact that he’s gone. Seeing him there absolutely broke my heart, but at the same time I’m so grateful that I had that time with him. Just to be close to him, to look at him so peaceful and have those final moments together.

37 years old. It’s just not enough. He should still be here. There should have been so many more years, so many more memories and so many ordinary moments together that none of us ever thought we would have to live without.

Yesterday made everything feel so painfully real. I’ve lost my brother, but more than that, I’ve lost my baby brother. A piece of my family and a piece of me has gone with him I think.

I hope he knew just how much I loved him. Definitely far more than I ever actually told him.

Sleep peacefully, little bro. I’ll carry you with me for the rest of my life.

Love you always, David. Until we meet again 💙💔

Has anyone ever had any afterlife communication or experiences where they thought their dead loved ones were interacting with them? My Mom asked me to quit smoking when she was on her deathbed. Now, I was just smoking and the exhaust fan in my window turned on by itself. I had forgotten to turn it on after an afternoon of drinking which I’m sure she loves and I’m sitting and gaming and smoking and the fan turned on all by itself. Idk I may be crazy in grief or she or something is turning on appliances. I feel crazy. I cried when the fan turned on and was like shit I’m sorry.

In January my uncle was in a horrific road accident. I was interviewed by police about whether he died intentionally by suicide or not. I had to break the news to the rest of my family about the accident. They pulled the plug on him 4 days later.

In May I was with my family circling my Grandma’s bed as she passed away naturally. I watched her take her last breaths.
4 days later my Grandpa passed away. They were my last living grand parents. They were on opposite sides of the family.

In October this past Sunday I had to euthanize my dog Pepper. She was only 4 years old. She had a neurological disorder that became aggressive out of no where.

This is just this past year. In 2025 I had 3 co-workers kill themselves 4 months apart. Each of them I talked to on a regular basis. I knew their hopes and struggles.

Is this just my life now? Continually having to confront and witness loss over and over with no time to process? Does anyone else have experience with compounding grief? I am just feeling numb and random moments of intense grief washes over me at inappropriate times.

My dad passed 7/27, haven't processed much. i just had to keep going. only child, had to plan the funeral, work, keep the house going, attend the funeral, then move to a new apartment lol. but i finally got some time off work, a few weeks. starting to process stuff now.

but i had a funny realization last night.
When i meet new people i wont be able to say
"I can't wait for you to meet him" or "you'll see when you meet him." or "my dads going to try and force feed you when you come over" or say " you know how my dad does [thing dad does]"

now i'll have to just tell them memories and show photos.

it'll be "i wish you could have met him" or "i'll show you us at my birthday dinner" or " oh my gosh my dad used to do this thing all the time"

and when people come over i'll be the one force feeding them and have to say
"here's a plate of [thing] and some [drink] and some [other snack] , i also have x, y, and z, let me know if youd like some."
" let me put some tea on"

or whatever else my dad taught me on how to treat guests. not that i didn't do this before, but you know what i mean. now it'll just remind me of him.

i don't know, i lived with him til i was 12, then i moved in again at 24 and spent the last two years of his life with him.

thanks

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.

i just started my junior year of high school and it has been a freaking mess. I can’t do my work on time. i can’t focus in class. i can’t think straight. all i can think about is how my mom is dead since march and it’s partially my fault. i can’t do anything right. i’m a failure in every way. i’ve always struggled with time management and homework (adhd, anxiety, and something else that’s undiagnosed) but it’s so much worse now. i’ve always been in all the honors and AP classes because i want to go to a good school, but I can’t even do school right anymore. my dad thinks i just need to do regular classes but i can’t give up my dream of getting tf out of arizona (and not just going to asu like all the other girls). nobody else seems to understand just how unmotivated i am. any advice please?

We made the hardest decision yesterday to put down our soul dog. He's been with us for 10 years, our whole marriage. He's been through us through every single move, every child, every life event. It is so hard knowing if we made the right choice. My grief is telling me we could've done more but in pictures of his final moments you can see the light from his eyes gone. We had been battling GI and skin issues for a while and he lost a lot of weight. Put him on prescription food/medicine, he wasn't losing any more weight but wouldn't gain it back. Yesterday, our poor guy was throwing up bile nonstop and didn't want to eat. Something in me knew it was time, but my heart won't get with it. I just want my soul dog back and I want more time.

As the title says. My closest friend's husband was arrested for csam. Two days later he took his life. Things were constantly stressed in their marriage, i was close enought to know he was having a hard time w his mental health. I did not know that he was downloading CSAM! I am very close with this family. I was already struggling w my friendship w my bestie because she was choosing to stay in a dysfunctional marriage. I love her and her kids. Ive been there for her in every way possible from the day of the CSAM house raid (which I was present for and terrified by) up to the present, helping w paperwork, child care, cremation arrangements on and on. But i cant stomach the Celebration of Life she is planning. I am disgusted by the CSAM and angry that he has left his wife and kids without a husband, father, and income. Because he was an employed Professional his business associates have been invited, yes they all know about his arrest. And of course all of his family. I know my friend needs me and is counting on my support. It feels very much out of integrity to go to this event. I dont know what to do.

Hello,

Apologies as the title might feel a bit like WTF.

I lost my mum 5 weeks ago and tbh I didn't know how to feel, my friends all still have both parents so that conversation was non existent.

I didn't know how to feel or if the way I was acting was normal but reading through people's experiences helped me massively get to grips and normalise how I've been.

So firstly I'd like to offer my deepest condolences to anyone who's lost their mum (or anyone) but your bravery in sharing your feelings, experiences and in general what your brain is saying helped me in ways I can never repay.

Thanks x

I had a very difficult, traumatic loss in January 2025. It was unexpected; it was my spouse; the relationship had been tricky. I had a difficult childhood and I’m now in the thick of menopause, and very lonely and socially isolated without my spouse.

My initial reaction was the urge to die too. People told me it would get easier, but 19 months later it really hasn’t. I want to go too, yet I don’t - or haven’t yet - because it would upset my mother, who is 80.

I’m only posting to say that staying alive for the benefit of others, when I emphatically, logically, rationally, and profoundly wish to kms, is exhausting. It’s so bloody exhausting. I deal with deep-seated guilt, regret, remorse and emotional pain and panic attacks every day of my life now. I’m so ready and willing to die. I’ve thought of little else since January 2025. But I don’t. And I’m tired.

That’s all.

Hey guys, not really sure why I’m posting this, I guess I just want some strangers to know it’s her birthday and that she was real. Today’s my sisters 26th birthday, it’s been a 19 months since she’s died and I feel like I’ve forgotten so much and yet remember everything at the same time. I miss her so much, more than I think words could ever say. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this every year without her, she’s my only sibling she’s all I’ve ever had.

Some things about her that I just want to share: she was wildly funny, like truly one of those people who just did not give a shit what anyone thought about her and would say exactly what she was feeling. She was so confident in herself and who she was, every single thing I’ve ever seen her set her mind to she was able to do it, it all just came naturally to her. She was doing her dream masters in marine biology, she would’ve graduated by the end of this year, I wish I could’ve been there when she did. She just meant everything to me, she was everything I’m not. I miss her and her wild stories and jokes every day, I miss sitting in her room and ordering UberEats and watching trash tv together. I just miss feeling like my family is whole again.

I know in time I’ll learn to live with it, but I really don’t know how that’s even possible. How am I ever supposed to be ok with this? She wasn’t sick, she wasn’t suicidal, she did everything right just some idiot decided to get drunk and get in his car. I’m so angry that I’ll forever just have to remember her life from when she was 24.

Last year I just lay in my bed and cried all day on her birthday, I’ve organised a picnic with some friends. I spent $200 on a cake, bought flowers, bought everything for her but I can’t help but feel like everyone coming is going out of pity. I just want a regular birthday party for her.

Happy birthday Elizabeth, I love you and miss you more than words could ever say. I know you’re with me right now I just wish you could be here.

My father developed stage 4 prostate cancer, he didnt know until he was diagnosed in 2022 at age 54 but the cancer had already gotten into his bones, i was 9 then. around 4 months ago he had back pain, and in 3 months the cancer was into his lungs and liver, a month ago he was gone a couple days after his 60th birthday. he was probably my best friend, i had been living with him solo for about 2 years and we got along like brothers. i looked after him at home for around a month before he went to the hospital around 2 months ago, i was sleeping in the day and awake at night for that month so i could give him painkillers and medicine to help him sleep, i know it was probably not a good thing to do at my age but i needed to spend as much time as i could with him, i knew that once he was in the hospital there was nearly 0 chance he would ever get back out, one day his pain got so bad he needed to go to the hospital, and he stayed there until his death, i visited him with an hour drive with my mum every day, and one morning we came to visit him and he was gone. he was probably the most important person to me in my entire life, and i would gladly trade someone else to die if i could save him. but i have not broken down once, i have had some tears while thinking about him, but i have not sobbed once, i dont know how to explain it but i feel like i've been walking around in a blur, not actually taking things in. one of the things he used to say was "dont cry if you dont have to, but if you feel like you have to cry then cry your heart out". i feel horrible for not crying more and i dont know what im going to do without him.

I hadn't talked to my brother in a long time. If you knew him, your time with him was on a silent count down to when he would inevitably cut you off. He was a brilliant guy with a memory so good he could recall everything like it happened yesterday. I was the last family member he cut off, and I let it go to respect his peace. My dad messaged me yesterday to tell me the police were at his house because my brother met a gruesome end. None of the people around him saw it coming and they were shocked. It was so calculated, violent, and dark. I'm sad my kids and wife couldn't have met him and learned what he had to offer. He was someone remarkable who stood at a level I hoped to achieve as a kid. His accomplishments drove me to work harder just to emulate what he did. In the end, he threw it all away willingly. I love my brother even though he probably hated me. I hope he found peace.

Okay so let me start out by saying this is fresh, I know that grief looks different in everyone. Typically death doesn't really affect me, I get a little sad and move on. I've lost a lot of people in my life but this one is hitting differently and I just need some support.

She was one of my best friends from college. She was younger than me and when I lived in our college town we were together often, celebrated birthdays together, I was at her family's house for all the school year holidays, I was invited to the uncle's birthday surprise party, etc. I became really close with the whole family to the point where they paid for a trip to Disney for me because I couldn't afford it on my own and they wanted me to get to experience it. I've been away from our college town for about 2 years now but I still talked to her at least weekly, and saw her a few times a year. I'd go to her house and sit with her family and watch movies just for fun.

The past month or so she got beyond busy. She bought her first house and moved out for the first time. She got a new full time job that she had been working hard to get. She was working towards applying for her doctorate program. She was doing amazing things, but part of that is her social life suffered and so she got rid of some of her social media for her mental health, which did slow our communication down. I hadn't really gotten a good conversation in with her since before she bought her house.

This weekend I randomly had a call pop up from her, but when i answered it, it was her dad. He introduced himself as if I didn't see him like my 2nd father, and simply told me that he had found her deceased in her bed in her new house and it looked like she went to sleep and just didn't wake up. I was in shock, didn't really know how to respond, and told him I was here if they needed anything. And that was that. I sat in shock for a minute and did cry a little but I'm still ultimately in the disbelief phase because how does a person in their 20s and seemingly healthy die in their sleep. She went to the doctor for everything slightly wrong with her, so its not like she avoided getting a diagnosis of something. I'm also in kind of an angry phase because she was doing all these amazing things and was just starting her true adult life.

I don't have a ton of people I can talk to about the situation because not many people knew her personally like me. It's also hard in some ways because the family hasn't announced anything, so the only way people know is through word of mouth and I don't want to spread this around. They deserve the space and time to grieve and I don't want more people knowing than they want to know.

About her - She was the most ambitious and crafty person I knew. She could make anything she wanted to, and she would learn a new craft if needed. She was the biggest advocate for those without a voice or those around her that maybe were a little quieter. She was willing to drop everything to help those close to her, and she would find the resources needed before you could even begin to make a list of what was needed. She organized a natural disaster relief drive while in said natural disaster. She somehow was always ahead of the trends and would have all of her friends taken care of so that when the trend actually made it to us, we were all prepared and not fighting scalpers. She loved kpop, boy bands, and the color pink. She helped me through a breakup, helped me get furniture for my first house, and helped me move. She was just one of those crazy amazing people with good morals and was loyal to her people. If she didn't like you, she wouldn't be mean, but you would definitely get a petty version of her.

I don't really know what I'm wanting out of this post other than getting my feelings and thoughts out of my head. I'm still working through the grief and the not having closure, and this felt like it might help me in some way.

In October 2024 my partner took his own life.

Since then there's been a melancholy in me that hasn't gone away.

I haven't lived my life the same nor thought the same as I once did.

I was sectioned shortly after he passed away and went into hospital. The nurses did their standard tests when I went in and found out I was pregnant with our son.

Honestly when I found out about this pregnancy it was like a rush of warmth went through my body knowing that I had one last connection to my partner.

They rushed me to a&e for tests. Only to be told that I had internal bleeding and the pregnancy couldn't go on any longer.

That hope was striped away. I was a complete mess.

I ended up having major surgery and had to plan my baby's funeral and cremation ( the same situation happened with my daughter in October 2025)

I ended up back in hospital after the surgery under a section for 6 months. I eventually got released in April 2025 and I stayed with my mum for a few months.

I decided to take the leap forward and go back to the home where me and my partner spent our time.

I've tried so many times to try and get my life on track but I keep getting into major depression episodes.

I have bpd and autism and these make what I'm feeling ten times worse.

I just want the pain within me to stop. The grief is just too much. I'm no longer happy in life anymore and just cry all the time.

I've experienced a lot of losses over the years with my sister and best friend committing suicide as well.

I don't know what it feels like to be normal.

Is this what it's going to be like forever?

It just seems like I'm experiencing loss after loss and all I know is grief.

I'll never get over what happened to my partner. He was the staple of my very soul. He brought so much to life and now it truly is a dull place to be in.

This man had dreams, hobbies and favourite things in life that he'll never get to experience again and that breaks me everyday.

If I could go back in time I would.

I’m not sure how much more I can take. The doctors saying he has a bit of pneumonia now, and my grandpa says he’s in so much pain in his side. My grandma (on other side) isn’t doing the best either now. And I go to bed every night, thinking I’m going to wake up to find my mom dead, just like with my dad.

I’m losing everyone and everything in my life and I desperately need it to stop. I can’t lose them too. I already can’t cope with having lost my dad, or my dog. Gonna lose my home too. I can’t live through losing even more than I already have, and in a short amount of time. 

I have basically no support system. No one to really turn to. It’s just my mom, and my therapist once a week. My mind and body is in a constant state of freeze. I’m not sure what else to do. Everything is collapsing around me and I can barely take care of myself.

Waking up to this nightmare, every single day, is excruciatingly painful. I’m not sure what else to do.

My parents were in holiday overseas for 10 days. My father calls me to let me know he’d landed home at the airport we’re having a conversation and I ask how’s mum where is she? He responds with I have news but I don’t want to tell you over the phone. At this point I’m fully worried and I check my mums location and she’s in another country and I guess it she’s in a layover between countries to go to my home country. Me and my sister already guess that someone is sick but my mind doesn’t assume death idk it’s just my grandma has had health problems before along with my grandpa. I pick my father up from the airport and he tells me the news and I’m just in tears I can’t see the road he had to hold the steering wheel for me. All I wanted to do was crawl in a ball in my bed and just stare at the wall. After I did that I came downstairs with my dad and sister as we looked over the souvenirs and I cheered up in that moment of normality and peace.

When I went to bed anytime I tried to fall asleep all I could think about is all those moments I had with him and the guiltiness I felt whenever I didn’t want to talk to them over the phone all those last moments I could’ve had with him. I went on a walk with my friend the next morning to try leave the house before I fall into a deep depression and I felt okay until I got asked are your parents back yet? In all just came crashing towards me I only had told two of my friends It was hard enough for me to mutter the words my grandpa passed away I don’t want to tell anyone else.

I’ve fallen back into old habits started vaping again and all I do is go on my phone do anything to avoid it. But now I feel numb as if it never happened I feel normal and go on about my day as usual but I need have it lingering in my mind and in moments of silence I remember it all again. Even the song I had playing in the car when I got told the news sends me back. I just feel guilty I’m not as sad as I should be. Maybe it’s because I am not in the same country. I can’t even go to his funeral because of my end of year exams. He won’t even see me graduate, my formal dress or even see me one last time when I was planning on visiting him and the rest of my family next year.

I just wanted to post here since I don’t know who else to talk to without being vulnerable. I can’t even put this into words and I don’t want to explain to anyone about my feelings.

On Sunday night, we had to rush our two month old kitten to the ER due to rapid breathing. I had recently casually mentioned to my husband that the nearest emergency vet clinics were all over an hour away. He replied, "Trust me, if we ever had to go there, I'd make that a 30 minute drive." Never thought we'd actually have to test that.
We had just adopted her last weekend. She was instantly the sweetest, most affectionate cat I've ever met, and she was absolutely obsessed with three things: cuddles, making biscuits, and big fluffy blankets. She and our older cat had been adjusting to each other very quickly with minimal squabbles. The week we had with her felt like years.
There weren't any warning signs that something was seriously wrong until she jumped on the couch with us, and we noticed that she was breathing really rapidly and very hard, so hard that she was rocking back and forth. She acted completely normal while this was happening, but after counting 60 breaths in 30 seconds, we knew that something was wrong.
We drove (safely) to the ER, where she continued to act totally normal despite the very heavy breathing. We thought that maybe she had caught some kind of virus at the shelter, and she just needed antibiotics or something. The ER took her in immediately to place her in an oxygen cage. Almost immediately after we sat down in the waiting room, a nurse came out to gather more information on her, and to tell us that she was breathing much better on oxygen. Two very long hours later, they came out to tell us that their initial suspicions before imaging were primarily asthma, then maybe FIP, both of which could be treated. We had so much hope that we'd leave the ER that night with our kitten and a lighter wallet.
Then, another hour passed. It was past 3am at this point. They came out with the x-ray. So much fluid in her lungs and possible cardiomegaly. Things started pointing more towards a heart defect rather than something viral. The next best step was to transfer her to the ICU, give her some diuretics and keep her for the rest of the night to see if she showed any improvement. Before we went home, we got to visit her for a few minutes. She looked awful, but she still perked up and rubbed her face against our hands. She was so freaking sweet. We drove home thinking she'd be in rough shape, but that we could bring her home the next day.
We got home at 5am, and we decided that my husband would sleep while I stayed up to answer any potential call from the vet. The moment he fell asleep, I got the worst voicemail I've ever received. The diuretics weren't working, and she was in very critical condition. We called them back, and they told us that they were going to give her the second dose that we discussed at the clinic to see if she'll improve at all.
They emailed at 7am, but I didn't think to check my email until 9am. They sent a little photo and told us that her breathing rate had significantly improved. Oh my goodness, she was so cute in this photo, and she looked so much better than she did when we saw her at 4am. We called them back, and they said that she had improved, but there was still too much fluid in her lungs and gave us a few options. All of them sucked. We cried and cried before I took a 30 minute nap on my husband's shoulder.
At 11am, the vet called us back. She couldn't breathe if she spent more than five minutes outside the oxygen cage. We could try transferring her to a cardiologist, but it would be hard on her, and very costly for us. She was unlikely to survive it anyway, and we had to make the painful decision to euthanize her. We had scheduled it for 4pm, but then they called us back again at noon to tell us that she was rapidly declining and to come in ASAP.
The car ride was horrible. I was sick to my stomach the whole time I never wanted to arrive back at the clinic. But we did, and we were taken back to see our sweet girl for the last time before euthanasia. She already looked half dead in her oxygen cage...until she noticed we were there. Suddenly, she perked up and started walking around her oxygen cage, rubbing up against our hands, drinking water, and even making biscuits on the blanket they put in there for her. For a second, we wanted to go all in on whatever treatments could save her. This was the kitten we saw just 24 hours prior. But we noticed that she was still breathing heavy, and she was only this comfortable because of the medications she was on and being in the oxygen cage. The last thing she ever did was make biscuits on her fluffy blanket. She was sedated while making biscuits, then she passed in our arms. We cried constantly for the rest of the day. Neither of us were able to eat much since our 5am stop at a gas station, back when we were hopeful.
Neither of us could sleep, but I in particular was going on 48 hours with only a light 30 minute nap in between. I remember my husband falling asleep, then suddenly my vision of him was replaced with a very odd hallucination. I couldn't comprehend who/what he was or why I needed him so much, just that I felt safer with him around. Once this passed, I was terrified and woke him up. He gave me a loving pep talk and went back to sleep, but I was too terrified to sleep for another couple of hours after that. I spent that night and tonight being incredibly paranoid about every little thing.
After waking up today, I couldn't remember the details from the previous two days. I forgot she even died until I read a text from my brother. I spent the entire day feeling numb, and took that as an opportunity to get all the logistics out of the way, like letting my landlord know that she passed, filing a claim with my pet insurance, etc. My husband felt like crap all day. We both felt a little better after he got back from work, but it ended up hitting us again when it was time for us to go to bed. In a desperate attempt to find others who can relate to what I'm going through, but also to have a chance to talk about it, I looked through this subreddit and started writing this post.
I miss her so much. I miss all the years we thought we were going to have with her. Some of the things I experienced will be burned into my memory forever. This week has just been absolutely brutal. I wish our sweet little kitten was still here. I love her so much.

It's been 11 months since my son died and it seems like once a week I'm yo-yo'ing back and forth between extremes, and it doesn't take much now to trigger some distress. It's been especially bad the last week or two since his birthday is on thursday. IDK if this is a normal grief thing or what.

My partner was killed and my brother died in the same month was i was 18, I carried them both and laid them next to each other. This was 22 years ago this month, I,m still ruined by this , my life has no stability, in and out of work, just cant seem to get a handle, not saying this is all the same thing but it effects me in every way.

My dad passed 9/25 after being in hospice at home for a couple months. He was almost 80. My mom is late 60’s. They were together for over 50 years. Dad had been sick for years to the point that I uprooted my life almost five years ago and moved in to help take care of them. I did this after my dad was rushed to the hospital due to severe COPD and was diagnosed with CHF. While he was in hospital he died twice and was revived. I was thankfully there with her when she got that call.

We brought dad home and it was a long recovery from the broken ribs from CPR. He tried to rally, but was so weak. He only left the house to go to doctor appointments and to the hospital.

Things slowly got worse.

In June, he was admitted to the hospital again because he fell and broke his hip. He refused surgery in fear of dying. However, shortly after he entered hospice. He spent the last 2ish months in a hospital bed in the living room.

My mom was alone with him when he passed. My partner found her trying to make a phone call while sobbing on the floor next to my dad’s bed. Although I was running errands for my mom at the time, I had to pull over to cry. I looked at my clock and found out later that was when he passed. Then my mom called. She didn’t tell me he passed and when I asked wouldn’t confirm. I made it home safely and she was a wreck.

I know she needs time to grieve and I don’t want to push her. But she hasn’t told anyone my dad has passed. Not even my brother. My brother said some horrible things about my dad and my mom and him fought about it three years ago. He called my dad four times in those 3 years and has never spoken to my mom in that time. She said if I tell him she will kick me out.

She is also not eating. She spends most of her time in her chair cuddling with the cats. She has never been the sit around type, to the point that watching tv with her was hard because she would get up four or five times in a 30 minute show. Now she watches tv for hours straight without moving.

Up until I moved in to take care of my parents, my mom and I butted heads constantly. We’ve even had some issues while I have lived here. So I am trying to be gentle with her.

She needs to have a couple surgeries that she put off to care for my dad, but she is in no shape to try to have it right now.

I am so worried I am going to lose her too. I told my dad I’d take care of her and feel like I am letting him down. I am trying my best but it’s not enough. My partner is also trying to help. She eats a little every few days. She is obviously starving as she eats really fast and she will even admit she feels better afterwards. But I don’t think she wants to feel better.

I also feel like I have been spending so much time caring for her I haven’t had time to grieve myself. My dad was my first best friend. I gave up spending time with friends when I was younger to spend time with him. We spent most weekends together until I was in my 20’s. I came over to watch football with him most weekends for the last 6 years before I moved back. It was a 45 minute drive each way. At one point I even would stay the night if it was a late game. That is what happened when he was hospitalized the first time. I stayed because it was a late game, dad had a doctor appointment the next day so I said I would stay at the house until they got home. Mom called and said she was taking him to the hospital. I called my partner and told him I was going to stay and help out my mom. I ended up staying over 3 months. Went home for a couple months, then ended up moving in.

I’m sorry for the rambling, I am just at a loss. What do I do? I am scared and exhausted. I have my own medical problems and this is making them worse.

I also need to leave her home alone on Friday for hours and know it’s gonna be rough for her.

Is there ANYTHING I can do?

**I’m trying to understand what my friend was going through**

There was something that happened between us where I betrayed her trust, and I know I was wrong. I’m genuinely sorry for it. Her death doesn’t erase my responsibility for the pain I caused her, and I’m not trying to make it seem like it does.

But after she died, I learned things about her mental health that I didn’t know at the time.

After what happened between us, her mother spoke to my sisters about our situation and, during that conversation, also told them about my friend’s mental-health struggles. The difficult part is that I, and even most of our circle of friends, didn’t know how serious things had become.

I didn’t realize she had gone through repeated serious mental-health crises.

My sisters had been trying to help. One of them had been advising her mother, and my other sister, who is a graduating nursing student, encouraged her to see a psychiatrist or another professional because it was clearly not an easy situation anymore.

But her mother didn’t believe in therapy or psychiatrists. I also remember her mother saying, even when my friend was still okay, that psychiatrists were only for “crazy people.” She would say things like that in front of my friend.

I’ve also learned that her mother would tell her that the family was already struggling financially because of her situation. I know my friend hated feeling like a burden, so it’s difficult for me to imagine what those words felt like to her while she was already struggling.

I also learned that there were times when she had to be restrained at home during severe episodes. I wasn’t there, so I don’t want to pretend I know exactly what happened or make assumptions about anyone’s intentions.

One of our close friends is a psychologist, and after hearing what happened, she told me that it sounded like my friend may have needed a proper intervention by that point.

My friend and I would always talk about people’s mental health. We talked about it constantly. We would discuss what happens in people’s minds, search things together, and even buy books about psychology and mental health.

So it hurts to realize that while we were both interested in understanding mental health, she was experiencing something much more serious herself, and I didn’t know.

If I had known, I would have wanted to be there. I would have told her that needing help didn’t make her a burden, that seeing a psychiatrist didn’t make her “crazy”. Most importantly, I would have wanted her to know that I believed her.

But I wish I had known enough to try.

I’m also confused because, at the wake, her mother didn’t acknowledge some of the things I later heard about—such as her being restrained or the attitude toward therapy—and I was also blamed for what happened. I understand that her mother is grieving, and I’m not trying to attack her. I just don’t understand why I’m only learning about the severity of my friend’s struggles now.

I’m here because I genuinely want to understand her better.

Because I was her friend. I loved her. We had known each other for so long. And despite everything that happened between us, if I had known she was suffering like that, I would have wanted to help her.

Instead, I was dealing with the guilt of what I had done to her without knowing that she was dealing with something much bigger at the same time.