i'm so sorry for your loss. it should probably be one of the others that replies to your post, i'm struggling today looking for answers myself. i lost my dad recently but what touched me more in your post is that i also lost my older brother. it was a long time a go and we were just kids but i still hurts.
nothing is the same, i've spent my life thinking "this is what i should do but then what would my brother have done" i have felt for a long time with life, my family etc that i have almost tried to live two lives. sounds strange but trust me its true.
it's hit me more since my dad died, i'm now the one my mum and sister turn too but more than ever i find myself looking around for my brother. i still feel even now, almost 30 years later, that its him they should be asking.
i went to see a friend of mine who put things in a strange but very true perspective. " grief is like a wave, at the moment you are sitting on a boat at the shore line... the waves rise and fall very quickly, one minute your at the crest the next your at the bottom..but as time goes by and your boat sails further out into the sea the waves take longer, you will still be down but it will just take longer to get there" it's 7 months since my dad died and all day for no sensible reason whatsoever i have wanted to call him, just hear his voice.. guess i'm at the bottom of the wave.....
take care

shattered and steash......

I am so sorry to read of how you are both suffering so with the loss of your loved ones.

hoping you find comfort

Shattered and Steash: I too want to say how truly sorry I am for both of you for your losses. May God wrap you in his warm blanket of love and comfort you through these most difficut times. Dorrie

Grappling With Grief

How Can I Put My Mother's Death Behind Me? By Judy Sobiesk


Aug. 27, 2001 -- How often I've heard a sudden death referred to as "a merciful way to go." For those left to mourn, however, it's often an incredibly traumatic, unbelievably painful time. Your unresolved grief issues and family history of depression surely increase the pain you're feeling.


The grieving process is as unique as the people who grieve. It's a necessary and healthy journey, but it can be quite frightening because there are no specific directions that tell you where to turn and how long the trip will take. While I respect the choice of those who want to be alone in their grief, I firmly believe it's better to take this journey with others.


Have you heard of grief support groups and therapists who specialize in grief issues? Grief groups have become very popular of late, and are often sponsored by churches, hospitals, community continuing ed programs, and therapists.


I've yet to talk to anyone who doesn't praise the benefits of participating in such a group. When we share our feelings -- whether we're grieving the death of a spouse, parent, or child, whether the death was sudden, violent, or long-in-coming -- healing occurs. Not often like a bolt of thunder, but more often, slowly, in waves, it happens. The waves of grief often feel like tidal waves at first but over the years become soft -- even comforting -- like the ripples on a calm sea.


The makeup of a grief group attests to how alike we all are when we communicate on a feeling level. It's not unusual for a senior citizen groping with a 60-year-old grief issue to be sitting next to, understanding, and comforting a newly widowed young woman. Whether grief is new or ancient, whether the group members are young or old, outgoing or extremely shy, sharing our pain with others works.


Now about being "the strong one" -- I've been there, done that. I could have written a letter just like yours when my own mom died suddenly when she was 56 and I was 30. At that time I didn't see that being "the strong one" was a horrible burden and stood in the way of my grieving and healing. I would help anyone but didn't let others help me. Sound familiar? I thought I could fast-forward through the pain. I was wrong.


I don't think grief groups existed then -- I probably wouldn't have been open to them anyway. My pain eventually overcame my pseudo-strength and I found a therapist who seemed like a good match. I found that letting friends in to my pain and hard work in therapy are a winning combination, one I highly recommend to you. That was the beginning of healing and learning how to be a truly strong woman who could also deal with family and personal issues of depression.


Maybe writing to us was the beginning of reaching out. Please continue this impulse. We were not meant to "do" life alone.



Judy Sobiesk is Dan Savage's mother and the person who inspired Dan to go into the advice business. Judy lives with her husband near Chicago, where she raised her four kids, three straight and one gay. Until her cameo appearances in "Dear Dan," a previous advice column, came along, Judy gave advice for free, primarily to her children.

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(((Shattered))) You are in shock right now...it's your minds way of protecting you from the pain of your loss. Please take good care of yourself and when you feel "up to it", try to go to a support group.

(((Steash))) 7 months is not very long in the grieving process. And I think you never resolved your grief over the loss of your brother.
It takes as long as it takes.

So aptly put. There is no magic marker for the end of grieving, it doesn't come. The grieving transforms and is different for everyone.

My younger sister died December 15, 1986 from a long battle with breast cancer. She was only 34. Of course, we were all devastated and emotionally exhausted.

The one thing I've noticed is that it seems since her death, each loss I've had has been amplified.

It's true. It's like the grief comes in waves. Sometimes large, sometimes small ripples. The hardest grieving in the beginning DOES diminish.

Therapy with a great counselor helped as well.

My sympathy to both you ((Shattered)) and you ((Steash)).

Shattered and Steash, you both have my heartfelt sympathy as well. I know how painful such losses can be. My closest sister died suddenly from a heart defect when she was twelve and I was thirteen. The last time I saw her alive she was healthy and happy and we were on our way to school. Then at noon a relative showed up to take me out of school. And my sister died before midnight, so I never had a chance to see her in the hospital at all.

All I can say is that it's true you never completely get over the grief, but at least with time you learn to deal with it better. It loses it's power to dominate your life and make everything around you seem bitter. For months after my sister's funeral, I had dreams that it was all a mistake, and she was actually still alive. Now I don't have those dreams anymore. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it does leave me feeling less sadness.

I really, really hope that both of you feel better soon, and that the heartbreak you feel right now loses the sharpness it has in your hearts.


Idealist

Hi Everyone.

I need to say, I haven't posted here before. These posts have touched me so much. I can relate with all of you.

I lost my sister a few years ago due to an accidental drug overdose, she was 23. I had no idea that she had been addicted to pain medication. This was an absolute shock.

As I went through my personal grieving process, I would just cry because I just wanted to know that she was ok. A few days later, she appeared in one of my dreams. It was so real. I went up to her and gave her a hug. She told me that she was ok. After that dream, I know that she's ok. I truly believe she came to me because I was so upset.

I know that I'll see her again. I know that she's happy where she is. Even though I'm here and she's up there...

Things will happen to me and my sister that are unexplainable. For instance, my son's alarm went off at 5:00a.m. My son is 11 and has never used the alarm. My sister said that the very same thing happened at her house. Her daughters (8 years old) alarm will go off - or the TV will just come on. 3 years after her death, I went to make a phone call and the last number dialed on my phone was my sisters number.

I hope that you can find peace. Your sister is up there. Happy. Your dad is up there watching over you. He is.

Look up in the sky and know that they're up there happy. They're not hurting, they're not in pain. There is no burdon, guilt, pain, or sadness. They are more free than we can ever know.

I hope this finds all of you with dry eyes - and a heart full of happiness knowing that you'll see them again.

Beth.