“My younger brother passed away from a brain tumor. I went into a mental shock. I didn’t feel anything. I actually didn’t cry. And when I went and saw him, it was almost like I was having an out of body experience. And I remember thinking to myself, why am I not sad? I literally feel nothing…I took on the role of ‘I need to do everything.’ I was in charge of a video montage of his photos with music [for the funeral]. I couldn’t find music. All of the sudden, the TV got really loud. And it was a song by Carrie Underwood, ‘l’ll See You Again.’ I started listening to it, and it made me feel like my brother was there, saying ‘Hey, it’s okay; everything is going to be fine.’ That was the song that I chose for him.” ~Jessica
“My wife died after battling a rare form of cancer for almost a year. She was just 53. I threw myself into dealing with all things you need to do when a loved one dies: the paperwork, the death certificates, closing accounts. And I went back to work almost immediately. I don’t think I truly felt the impact of her passing until the days right after her memorial service…It is still hard. I miss her everyday...every time I see a piece of art she would have liked; every time I think of the places she loved. I try to honor her with what I do in the community, working with the groups she supported. I have now come to grips with the fact I will always live with her loss.” ~Charlie
“My son, who was 20 years old, was driving home on a really windy road, notorious for accidents. Either an animal went out in front of him or there was a third party; we’ll never know. And he went head on to the opposite lane. Actually, it was driver to driver, and he was killed instantly. I felt total numbness. At that time, I was taking prescription medications for chronic pain so I just started taking more. I just wanted to numb myself, just get away, get out of my head…I’m not ready to deal with it…[I’m] pretending like he’s still in boot camp. Because he was in boot camp the year before and got out, so I kind of just play head games with myself that he’s still in the military. Until somebody raises [the issue]. And it’s almost unbearable.” ~Lynn
“This friend of mine that I knew at church; he was diagnosed with cancer. And in my mind, I was meaning to see him. I thought he had maybe a year or two left. Found out through Facebook he passed on. I feel the regret of not seeing him. And he was really a good guy. How do you deal with that? You forget about it because you get so busy with life. And all the sudden…boom. You regret not seeing him. That’s an additional hurt…I cocoon myself. Being in my room, watching TV in my bed, whatever; that’s usually what I do. I don’t want to be touched…emotionally touched.” ~Gene
“A friend of mine committed suicide. When I found out, I was in complete shock. He just got married! He never once showed any sign of depression or suicidal behavior. No one knew about or understood his demons. I mostly just felt sad and frustrated…I have to believe that he didn't mean to, that if he had the chance to go back, he wouldn't have done it. It may be cliche, but at every opportunity, I tell those I love that I love them. It's just that little piece of grace that we can bless each other with.” ~Claire
“My grandmother died on Mother's Day from a long bout with cancer. Over time it has been a painful road. We had a difficult relationship although we loved each other very much. I went through very difficult times as an adolescent and young adult, and she worried, disapproved, and was disappointed in me. A couple of years after her death, I got clean and sober and began a journey of healing and recovery…I live with the memories of her disappointment and am left with no chance to make amends and show her how I've changed. Forgiveness and unconditional love are things I try to give myself and to give others. I want to be forgiven so I forgive.” ~Darryl
“I unexpectedly lost my father. I’ve been going through the classical five stages of grief. My hugely surprising discovery has been that the stages often don’t replace each other, but overlap and get commingled. I often feel that at some deep level I’m still in denial. That urge to pick up the phone and call Dad to discuss something interesting or important is still triggered…I’ve been making an honest effort to stop feeling sorry for myself, stop looking for excuses to medicate myself with my favorite poison, alcohol, and to commit to the reality that his death was never about me—just like my life is not about him.” ~Glenn
“Both my grandmothers died within about two weeks of each other. I was totally shocked; it was doubly hard. Circumstances were such that I could not get to France in time for her funeral, which was very upsetting to me also…For years I could not mention either of my grandmothers without crying. Sometimes even now I still tear up. I think of them often and treasure the things they taught me: one taught me how to play solitaire and shuffle cards like a proper card dealer. My other grandmother taught me how to make real, French-style chocolate mousse.” ~Armelle
“My mother died after living with me for seven years. Since this was the first time I had lived alone, loneliness was a huge factor for a while. But gradually, I realized that those seven years were a blessing to me since we had learned to live together as roommates and friends…Since it has been 31 years since her death, only pleasant memories remain. Only a little sadness now and then because I can’t call her on the phone. Right inside my pantry, I keep three things that belonged to my mother—a box of matches, a small container of toothpicks, and a box of straws. So every time I got into the pantry, I think of her.” ~Bettye
“I lost my dad at the age of 90 from a long-time illness. Upon returning home from his memorial service, I lost my brother unexpectedly. My brother’s passing was a shock. Initially, I just went about the business of taking care of his body, funeral affairs, and business affairs. I just felt numb. Once everything was done, it really hit me. [My brother] had been homeless for sometime until a couple of years before his death. I can no longer look at a homeless person without seeing him. I grieve for him and them. There is a homeless tent city that I drive by a couple of times a week. Now, I always try to give them some money if I have any.” ~Jay
“The death of my oldest brother, Sammy, has made me aware of my own mortality because we are close in age. Initially, I thought I didn’t care because we hadn’t been friends in 20 years. We were just very different people. If he hadn’t died, we still would have not spoken this last year because I didn’t like him. I loved him, however. It’s been less of dealing with an emotional loss. My life hasn’t changed because he’s died. But the combination of his death at an early age (he was only 54) and my own declining health has given me a lot of intellectual things to chew on. When you’re young, you think you’ll live forever. But, of course, now I know I won’t live forever.” ~Maxie
“In the beautiful sunny morning, [my husband] preferred to remain in bed and developed a weak-toned cough. In two and three quarter weeks, he endured three surgeries. We veiled our fears. He succumbed to respiratory failure, sepsis, and pneumonia…That loss was sudden and unexpected. His family kept me grounded. A friend’s counsel: ‘Slow down.’ However, I increased my physical exercise, including tai chi for peace of mind. I’ve accepted the notion he’s not returning, but strongly believe he is with family and friends now, and safe and happy in God’s hands. My sustenance: We shall meet again someday.” ~Sylvia
“Dana the cat got hit by a car and killed when I was out of town. I felt devastation. Helplessness because I was not there, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Just shock…numb. Followed by all the stages…like, oh maybe it’s not her? Then acceptance and grief…She never would go out on the street before so maybe she knew she was [dying]…sometimes cats do that. When they are ready to go, they either take off or…I want to think she went for it. Ran across the street in one blaze of glory. I know that’s not really true, but it’s life.” ~Todd
“My dad’s partner (my other dad) was hit by a train while jogging. He was on the track with headphones in his ears, and he never heard the train. I was in total shock. I had just given birth to my son a month before so I would cry when he and my husband went to sleep. I didn’t know what to do. I was extremely distraught and in disbelief. I felt like I didn’t know how to continue my life without him…I think about and miss him everyday. I’m not always sad, but happy that I had such an amazing person in my life who loved me and knew I loved him. I still get angry sometimes about how unfair it is and how he’s not here anymore.” ~Allie
“My first dog, Remington, started having seizures, and we took him to the vet. They were thinking it might be a brain tumor. I didn’t want to do anything invasive to him, so they gave him phenobarbital. Once we got the dosage right, he didn’t have any more for about a year. But then he had a major seizure, and this time he couldn’t [function]. So we had to make that decision to put him down…We loved him so much, and we felt like: did we make the right decision or not? And we second guessed ourselves. We literally would come home from work and just cry and drink. We didn’t do anything. We didn’t see anybody.” ~David
“My adopted grandmother died when I was in my final year of high school. I still get teary over the last time I spoke to her. We left her house, and I said, ‘See you tomorrow.’ And I thought in my head, I should say ‘I love you’. But I was already in the car and thought…no, I will see her tomorrow. She had a stroke that night and never fully recovered. I know she knew I loved her, but it still pains me deeply that I didn't tell her that last time I saw her before her stroke…I say ‘I love you’ to family, and even friends, way too often, just in case it's my last time.” ~Julia
“My grandfather died. I was sad and cried. I try to ignore the fact that he’s dead.” ~William
“My grandfather on my dad's side died of a heart attack and head injury. He was alone in his home in Mexico at the time, and it was a huge shock to everyone. At first, I didn't know how to react. He and I had never been close, but accepting that he was gone was hard. I cried for my grandma and the rest of our family, but have not found myself missing him. The hardest part for me to reconcile with is that he ended up dying alone...no one should have that in the end.” ~Ivette
“I lost my grandmother due to complications in dementia and pneumonia. It felt like some great binding light had been turned off and unplugged. My grief manifested in loneliness and longing. I missed her, of course, but I also missed that fastening energy that she had…I’ve started playing her old accordion. I’m still getting the hang of it, but when I practice, it feels like she’s right there beside me. She used to tell my brother and I that she could have been a professional player if she’d stayed in Europe. I still miss her every day, but the music helps. It’s a language that she and I have in common and, these days, I’m not lonely anymore.” ~Keenan
“I remember distinctly when he was given the [cancer] diagnosis. We went and ate lunch at some place, and for a while, there was total silence because neither one of us realized what the situation was. And then as he took the treatments, and it was then obvious that his time was limited, I didn’t know how I would cope by myself--not only with his death, but with a life without him…It’s a reality that you face, but the loss is still here. I have to be honest..what I’m coping with now….that is a fact…death happens. Now I am facing my own.” ~Jeanine
“My mom died from pancreatic cancer. I cried about it a lot and talked about it ad nauseam. I met with a grief counselor. That was helpful. I exercised a lot. I went to the cemetery a lot. I became responsible for caring for my elderly dad. He was a WWII veteran and didn’t emote much about his feelings, but just pressed on. Observing that approach was somewhat helpful. The loss of my mom is always in the background and frequently in the foreground. It’s like chronic pain. You get used to it. I never went back to normal. I went back to something different.” ~ Mike
“My god-brother was murdered by a drug dealer. His brother came to tell me he was dead, and I went to school because I didn’t know what to do. I continued to try and put on a strong face so that other people wouldn’t see that I was suffering, but I broke down weeping in class in front of a bunch of people. I fell into depression and developed anxiety and panic attacks. So I dealt with it badly…I am still deeply saddened by his death, but time and counseling have offered me some relief. I still occasionally cry when I think about him, but I feel like now I am mostly remembering the happy times that we shared." ~Isabella
“My father died due to cancer of the esophagus. I think I was in shock for a long time. It was probably about four years after he died that I first realized I would never see him again…My dad wanted us to play Antonio Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” at his memorial service, which we did. When the string quartet started playing, I completely broke down and sobbed for the first time after his death. For years, whenever that piece would come on the radio, I would immediately change the channel. I just couldn’t listen to it. Finally, about 10 years later, I was able to.” ~Susan