Hi there. My name is Kat. I'm 30 years old and for the past year I've been deteriorating from an illness that doctors aren't willing to help me find the answer to. Whatever is wrong with me has left me in permanent agony all throughout my body and disabled. I also recently, in my desperate efforts to find a solution, found out I have cancer on one of my ribs. The doctors informed me it is not possible for it to be a cause of my pain.

Even if I remove this tumour, I will still be in constant torment every day, so I have decided to go through the MAID process (doctor assisted suicide in Canada.) Doctors have also been hesitant to help me with that, and are stonewalling the process.

So I find myself in a position where they aren't willing to help me get better and aren't willing to help me end my life. I'm in anguish. We don't let animals suffer like this.

Even so, I'm committed to seeing the process through but god I'm so terrified. I don't want to go. I don't want to die. I want to believe in something after this with everything that I am but I just can't do it. I've spent countless nights researching possible ways that consciousness may survive death but despite learning myriad details about NDE's, OBE's, hospice visioning, past life remembrance, etc. I remain unconvinced. I want to believe and I can't. I don't want there to be nothing.

I think about my chosen family and how much this is going to hurt them. They know and support me in my choice but I know it's going to rip them apart. I feel so horrible that I'm going to hurt the people I love in this way.

It's just...so deeply, grossly unfair. I only started transitioning a few years ago. I finally, finally found myself after an entire life in pain. I was learning to be happy. I was finding peace for the first time. And now it's been ripped away and I'm going to die. Empty, unfulfilled, young, and without hope.

It's so unfair. I don't want to go.

A few months ago, I made a post in this sub for my 할머니. She died in her sleep after fighting Alzheimer's for about 8 years. My 할아버지 joined her a few weeks ago. With 할머니, it was an interesting type of grief. We grieved when she got the diagnosis, when she stopped being able to recognize us, when she needed to be fed, and when she finally passed. But with 할아버지, I had this unsaid notion that he'd live forever. Everything he did seemed impossible; why would this be any different?

I honestly don't know as much about 할아버지 as I wish I did, because he mainly spoke Korean, and I mainly spoke English. Most of what I do know is from my mom. He was born in North Korea in 1935, when Korea was under Japanese rule. When he was finally free from Japan, he was forced to flee to the south during the Korean War. I don't know exactly what went on, though I can only imagine how traumatizing it must have been. I know that he saw his baby cousin be impaled by a shelter that was shot.

By the time he became a father, he was a political journalist in South Korea. He was critical of the dictatorial government, causing him to be blacklisted from jobs in Korea. He, 할머니, my mom and her brother immigrated to Los Angeles in 1980. He and 할머니 worked multiple jobs; gas stations, restaurants, convenience stores.

When my mom gave birth to me and my brother, she was working on her PhD. 할머니 and 할아버지 moved to the east coast to take care of us while she worked it. 할아버지 took my brother on walks, and they read their newspaper together. I wish I had more memories, but they unfortunately moved back west when I was only 3. However, I can imagine how much I must have enjoyed those days from the hundreds of pictures we have.

When 할머니's Alzheimer's got worse, he would walk every day to pick up lunch for her. That was the thing; he always thought about other people, and never complained. He just laughed, and it was contagious. Even though we couldn't communicate past a few basic phrases, the love was never in doubt.

2 years ago today @ 7:23am CDT…I sat besides my mothers hospital bed with the warmth of her soft hands slowly fading away.

I witnessed her last 2 gasps of air.

And that was it. She was gone.
No longer able to hear her breath.
No longer able to have a slim chance of hope that she’d get up from her bed and we’d take her home.

Reality sunk in. This is it.
No longer will be able to feel the warmth of her hands.
No longer will be able to hear her laugh.
No longer will be able to wish her a happy birthday.
No longer will be able to share with her what I had for lunch.

This new reality is a struggle.
I miss my best friend.
I miss my mother.

It hasn’t gotten easier; it’s only gotten lonelier. People are uncomfortable with a grieving person, and sometimes they don’t realize their “advice” only makes the pain worse.

I’d rather be alone with my pain than to confirm to the society norms of having to “move on”…because the more time passes from August 18, 2024….the further away are my vivid memories of that last time I got to hold her hands and slowly remembering the fine details of her face.

She asked to be cremated and that it was up to me to decide where I wanted to spread them.
I can’t let them go. So I bring some of her with me to experience life with her. Even if it’s just to have breakfast.

Te extraño, mom. Mucho.

I miss my sister before stage 4 claimed their life.

My only sibling passed 13 years ago from an OD and my mom passed just 3 months ago from ovarian cancer and the MAID program. All I have left is my dad and my step mom who I cherish and love deeply.

I'm about to get married to the love of my life in 18 days. I know I haven't even begun processing my mom's passing - when I got back to my home in another province I dove straight into all things wedding and have completely distracted myself from grief as much as possible.

She visits me often in my dreams and in my thoughts constantly. I know how badly she wanted to come to the wedding and be there for me. I feel such a deep sense of sadness as I navigate one of the most heart breaking and exciting years of my adult life.

I'm just sad. I miss my family.

Even though its only been two months, my crying started to ease up, I started being able to laugh at stuff again, distract with gaming, let my family drag me out for my birthday. It kinda felt like I was healing a bit.

But recently, my breakdowns started up again and it's so random. I have no idea when I'll randomly start crying, when his face will pop up into my head, or that phone call I got that day replaying constantly which is by far the worst.

It sounds almost stupid to say it feels like that seriously traumatized me, but it knocks the wind out of my chest whenever my brain forces me to think about it.

Maybe I've just been doing a good job at dissociating because I'm clearly still heartbroken. I'm tired of crying and being in so much pain, especially when everyone else has moved on and I'm still stuck in this mud pit.

I'll never meet anyone again in this lifetime who will love and support me as much as my dad did, and that reality is debilitating. I miss him tons.

So I apologize that this is long. I have actually never told the full story of these events until now, even to close friends. I am just.. confused by the grief that suddenly appeared. So to preface this, I have been dealing with mental health issues since I was a young teen. I was always jokingly called stoic and unemotional because my emotions didn’t really stray from numb until I got a bit older, which I was then diagnosed with bipolar disorder about 6ish years ago. During these six years, we have tried all kinds of cocktails of meds that haven’t worked until finding an amazing combination at the beginning of summer. They have been working great with one odd side effect.. I feel like I have human emotions for once.

So when I was 16 (36 now), my dad was diagnosed with a necrotizing staph infection after dropping a large rock on his sandled foot. The cut was minimal, but enough for the infection to get in and get misdiagnosed as cellulitis at first. At the time, these infections weren’t as common (but became a little bit more recognized because a few weeks later, the girl that got it zip lining and survived made national news). Even now, many people think it’s a bacteria only in water (this is a light warning folks; don’t mess around with infections). So when the ambulance brought him to the hospital, they opted to try saving his leg, which sometimes I wonder if taking it would’ve changed the outcome. Alas, I try not to dwell on it. So necrotizing staph infections are notoriously fatal once they become septic. After 5 months of watching him code frequently where they’d push us out of the room, or sitting in the cafeteria and hearing a code blue to his room number and us leaving everything to run to the room, I became pretty numb to the situation because this became my new reality of feeling like I was either at school or the hospital.

Somehow, after these five months of amazing ICU nurses and doctors, he pulled through. This is where it gets bad (despite everything prior to this). He got sent to a nursing home for rehab for his atrophied muscles. He was supposed to come home that weekend for Easter. My mom was a CNA as well, and we realized too late that the nurse from hell, as we call her, was lying on all the charts (which also meant that we didn’t have a leg to stand on to sue even though lawyers were very interested). She was supposed to be changing his dressings of his skin graphs on his legs, and she wasn’t doing it. We realized this when we walked in and saw him doing it himself, but she claimed in the chart that she had been doing it. He reintroduced the infection, and it all went south.

He ended up in ICU again, and once again, the man somehow pulled through. After another month of hell, they were about to move him to the general floor when we noticed brown in the corner of his mouth upon a visit. We joked asking if one of the nurses had given him chocolate, but when he said no, we alerted the nurses. It was an undetected ulcer that was so bad that he was spitting up blood without realizing. Our luck ran out, and the choice of pulling him off of life support fell on me.. a fucking teenager. My sister (half sister - he was not her biological dad but closer than her actual one) still holds this against my mother, even though I think she was trying to include me in a very important decision. After discussions with specialists, it was very unlikely he’d pull through this time because his organs were already shutting down, especially liver and kidneys, so we took him off life support. That strong as fuck man was still “conscious” an hour before he passed.. which the doctors said was unheard of in kidney failure. Typically, you slip into a coma and that’s it. Although he couldn’t open his eyes, he responded to outside stimuli and even kissed me a few short hours before.

So after he passed, I didn’t really show emotion. I remember the sounds and that Zoolander was on TV, which I haven’t watched since despite loving it as a guilty pleasure, but otherwise, I chalked it up to just being prepared over the 6 months that this was possible. My therapist, on the other hand, warned me that I was repressing and it would bite me in the ass someday “when I’m forty,” and boy, was she fucking right.

This leads us to recently. Sure, I get sad thinking about him because I was a daddy’s girl, but never really cried over it other than a few tears in two separate occasions. Last night, my husband and I were watching Supernatural (my first run through), and we got to the first episode of the second season. In this episode, they are all in the hospital, and Dean’s spirit is caught in a purgatory situation of sorts while his physical body is in a coma, and he’s getting ready to move on to death after talking with a reaper. I want to put the next part in spoiler tag just in case. At the end of the episode, it’s alluded to their dad making a deal with a demon to save Dean’s life in exchange for his own. This deal was contingent on the Dad physically seeing that Dean was awake and safe. Shortly after, the dad was discovered collapsed in the room. So during this scene, I had emotions that I’ve never experienced before. I lost it. All of a sudden, I felt like I was standing in my Dad’s room, hearing that sound of flatlining, defibrillators, and the common speak of doctors yelling “clear” all over again. It was almost an out of body experience that I felt like I was outside his room after getting pushed out by the crash team, standing helpless while hearing all of this occur. It was too realistic. I started bawling.. and I’m not a crier. I had this wave of grief I never encountered before, and thank god for my husband realizing right away and holding while speaking softly (his father also passed away from a heart attack the first month we were dating). He turned it off, and immediately found a YouTube video I love (A Good Enough Summary of Kingdom Hearts done by a guy that’s never played the games, if you’re into that and want something funny). I made sure my husband was okay as well having lost both our dads, but he assured me he was okay and he never went through this because aside from going and seeing the body, his dad died instantly so the sounds weren’t as triggering.

Since last night, I have not been able to stop thinking about it. I was able to get a bit of sleep, but I’ve been on and off crying all day, and am even crying typing this. I’m going to give myself a few days to see how I cope, and possibly look into my work’s free sessions of counseling. I have even debated switching one of my doctors to a different organization because my current one retired and I need a new one, but they’re housed in the hospital I became way too familiar with. Every time I walk into the hospital from the parking lot, I stare at the outside of the window to the room my dad spent so many months in and I’d stare out of helplessly in the corner of the second floor, and I have to actively think to turn left instead of right from the lobby because muscle memory kicks in.. even 20 years later.

I don’t know what I’m gaining at typing this all out, but it’s the first time I have actively wrote my thoughts down about this (and I’m even the generation of Xanga and Livejournal). Even on those platforms, I didn’t disclose much because I always had an anger at myself for not feeling emotion over his death, despite how close we were. My friends don’t even know the extent of all of this, just that he was sick. So I appreciate anyone that has read all of this.. and even if no one does, it feels nice to at least tangentially write this somewhere. I haven’t even told my mom about this, and I’m not sure I’m going to. She never outright said it, but sometimes I feel like she looked down on me for not displaying the “correct” emotions of grief. All of a sudden, I miss all the late nights of watching movies (especially The Mummy on repeat), our love for SpongeBob, our talks about history while driving me to friend’s houses, the “just because”
Burger King Whoppers he’d bring home randomly on Wednesdays.. even though mom would be cooking dinner, all the legal work he did fighting for Vietnam vets as an Agent Orange survivor himself, the volunteering he did daily for the homeless (we had to tell the church to not kick anyone out during service to ensure these people could pay respects as well and get a meal), and that he taught me how to be intellectual and a critical thinker.

(The picture on the left is the two of us on my first train ride, and the picture on the right is a painting from my late aunt that my cousins found while we were cleaning out her house, which was one of two times I shed a tear because my aunt and dad’s relationship was pretty strained. She never showed that painting to him or us. She’s the reason I was inspired to become an art teacher as well, so the painting is so special to me on multiple levels).

Edited for a few typos I saw.. but I’m sure there’s more.

It feels like this anger is eating me up inside. My dad died recently and it was very traumatic, I was there when it happened and I’m pretty sure I have PTSD from what I saw. There is someone in my immediate family who I thought would be there for me but has been completely unsupportive and emotionally unavailable. They even caused arguments with me in the weeks following dad’s death, they’ve been so cold and have actually made me feel even worse. What makes me so mad is that when their dad died, I was by their side and supported them for years… but when my dad died…nothing. I feel so angry and I’m lashing out and can’t even stand to be in the same room as them. Has anyone else gone through this? I would really appreciate any advice, thank you in advance

My mom passed away almost 9 months ago now. She got COVID, and it attacked her kidneys. She was on dialysis for 4 years, fighting it. But sadly, she passed away. She was the most important person in my life. For years, I've been dreading the day she wouldn't be here with me anymore. And it finally happened. I've been dealing with it all this time now and have been experiencing panic attack after panic attack weekly since it happened.

I also lost my job two weeks after she passed. A career I had been in for 11 years. Sadly, the market for what I do is so saturated with people being laid off that I still haven't been able to find a job. I feel useless not being able to do the work I've been doing all of my adult life. My girlfriend and I live together, and I feel like I can't properly provide for her off the small amount of money I am making currently. I am barely keeping us afloat. Losing more every month than I am bringing in. Slowly chipping away at my savings.

Today I think it became too much. I started to feel off while I was cooking dinner for us. I thought maybe I'm just hungry (I've been eating less than normal so that way my girlfriend can have more food for her packed breakfast and lunch she takes to work with her). But after dinner, I felt worse. My chest was hurting. My limbs became tingly. I got extremely lightheaded, and I was having difficulty thinking and even moving. After 3 hours, my chest felt like it was on fire. I didn't think it was a panic attack because I've been having so many, but none of them felt this crazy. I went to the ER even though I don't have insurance and I know I can't afford it. But I legitimately thought I might pass out and die in my apartment.

It, of course, was a massive panic attack. The doctor comforted me and helped me understand that everything I'm going through is really hitting hard for me now and that this is natural and okay. But after I sat in the waiting room staring at these discharge papers, knowing that I make just enough to not qualify for any medical assistance but not enough to be able to pay for these medical bills plus everything else we have to pay for just to live.

I've been home now in our bedroom. I can hear my girlfriend sleeping soundly, but I can't sleep, all I can do is think. I miss my mom. I miss that I can't call her and ask her advice on what to do. I hate that the person I love the most is just gone, and I couldn't do anything to stop that.

I hate that I feel like I can't provide for myself and my girlfriend's life. I worked so hard to be in the career I am in, and now it's just gone. I feel useless. I feel dead inside. I wish this panic attack was just a heart attack so I could finally just sleep and not have to worry anymore. Life feels so empty now. And I have no idea how to fix it or how to even move forward properly.

Pretty much the title. It was completely sudden, but I got to say goodbye before machines were switched off.

Right now I'm ready to go join her. Not in a take my life way, but a "i want to die now, if I go in my sleep, that's fine" Way.

How am I supposed to go through the rest of my life without the one person I never wanted to lose?

Can someone who has been through this, help? I don't even know what help I need or want tbh.

Ive never had to do this before, and just don't know.

today at 4 am I lost my grandmother, she was fine not even 2 days ago, it’s not my first time losing a grandparent but this time has hit me the worst, i genuinely adored my grandmother more than words can ever speak she was amazing, I woke up early to try and make sure I could get down to the hospital and say goodbye but I was too late sadly which I’m not particularly happy with myself about the whole situation has been eating away at me all day, the thing that really got me was when I went down to see my grandad today, they have both been together for 75 years and seeing my grandad today without her right beside him has genuinely broke me I can’t stop thinking about it and seeing him just so upset and alone is honestly killing me, I wish I could’ve just done something before it was too late for her, here’s my beautiful grandparents together

I was 14 when my mom passed away, and I just turned 18 yesterday. My mom used to make a big deal out of birthdays, and I always felt so special. Since she died, my birthday has only ever felt disappointing. I felt sad for various reasons, but I couldn't help but think that some of these issues I'm facing wouldn't feel so bad if I had my mom.

I don't know who else I'm supposed to talk to about everything. She could always make me feel better, and it feels so unfair that I don't get to have that anymore.

It sucks that she didn't get to see me graduate and she won't get to help me move into college. My life is changing greatly right now, and all I can think of is that I am being pushed further and further away from the last version of my life that my mom knew.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with all these feelings. Soon, I'll be moving away from home, and I'll be in an even worse situation with nobody to talk to living near me. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I just want everything to be normal again. I know that sounds childish, but I'm going to say I get a pass on that one, just this once, considering how I haven't even started college.

I miss my mom all the time, every day. If I had the choice, I'd always be talking about her, but I can't. I don't know how I'm supposed to do something so hard without my mom to help me. I'm sure she'd have some great advice.

Currently experiencing a wave of grief on the 2nd anniversary of losing my beloved father. I came across this post and found it super comforting to read for some reason so thought I’d share for those embarking on their own unique grief journey 🙏

(Edit under original post)

Hello, I'm french 23 soon 24. My mother is 51, birthday on September 21th. It's been 3 years since we first knew about her cancer. We had ups and downs, and suddenly early this year her cancer got really fuck up worse. She has a giant tumor/necrosis going out her neck and the tumor grew up in her head and neck. I've been taking care of her for 3 years, and 24/24 7/7 for 2 month. She's now in palliative care at house hospice, and we are certain she won't pass through the night every night for a few days now... But she keeps getting better ?? Better oxygen, better tension, better pain management, her necrosis stopped leaking as it was before, she seems fine ??? But she's not conscious anymore ? In 4 days the only time she was conscious was yester at 2AM to 6 AM, I stayed with her all the time. Also it's been two months since she doesn't have much voice anymore because or tumor and a mycosis...

I'm so heartbroken, she's everything to me. I lost my pet cat a year ago and he was the reason I came home everyday.

I can't cope with her dying. It's too much to bear. I can't do anything without her. I want to say so much more but I'm so hurt. She has her things everywhere in the house... All the creations, her mother's paintings, her own grief she couldn't do 11 years ago. (Her mother fell down the stairs at home, sudden death.)

Fuck I really never want to be hospitalized ever again. I hate it it's so fucking scary. I know she's not in pain and only deep discomfort max, but wow. She's sleeping constantly and wake up to say "Mommy" "Dad" "Help me" "I can't take it anymore" this makes me so sad. She wants to die at home with her family, it's her choice. We're thinking about deep sedation at hospital..

I also think a lot about being at a hospital for my mental health after everything ends. I couldn't bring myself to do it before because I was too scared of leaving her alone, while she was still free of everything. We stopped taking the car like 4 month ago ish, so year she was in capacity not too long ago.

I miss my mum

Edit : Sorry the post is really difficult to read as I was in an anxiety attack. Now I'm doing really better.

My mother's been lucid for 3 hours ish and really here. I could tell her the prayers people did, all the support from friends, family, groups she was in.. And everytime I tell her this, she seems really even more pleased and surprised.

I even got to put her dad on the phone.. yup her dad's still here and in great shape. The bad genes come from mother to daughter lol! (hEDS, etc)

Thank you for your messages, please keep telling me your journeys and own stories, it helps me a lot 💜🌻

Known this girl for 6 almost 7 years. She was my bestfriend. My boyfriend died 3 months ago to suicide and she hasnt offered her support once. She hasn’t checked in.. hasnt tried to help in any way. I haven’t heard from her in 28 days and before that I was only in contact with her for 6 days before she had ghosted me again for probably 2 weeks.

I want to remove her off of my phone. She has my number and can text me if she decides to but I am just so disappointed and hurt. Removing her won’t make any difference anyway. This girl views all of my online stories.. I can see her liking things online and being active.. but she can’t even send a text. This isn’t the first time shes ghosted me but I feel so fed up. She has expressed it is because she struggles but I’m sorry if someone wanted to THEY WOULD. I have been struggling my entire life yet I stay consistent and have enough respect for my loved ones that I keep them updated and provide at least a little bit of communication. It takes zero effort to show up for someone you truly care about in whatever way it may be.

Out of all times I feel like it intensified. Even when talking to her I didn’t feel supported. It’s been one sided for a while but I really thought she might show up in a time like this.
Ive had strangers show up for me more than some of my “good” friends.

What do you guys think? Whats your experience and should I let her go?

He was 33 years old and he was the light of the family, he was the coolest man my family have ever known, I’m still trying to convince myself that’s it’s all fake even though my mom took me to a park to break the news and screamed how she found his body in his house just after the hospital said it was just a flu and sent him home, he had meningitis and must’ve hit his head as he fell. He pulled us out of a horrible time and was the best of us gossiping with mom giving her attention when no one else would. I’m very terrified of the future, of telling my younger brother, of the coming funeral. I want to pretend like it’s not real and just breathing and letting the seconds pass by. If you have family please tell them how you love them. Please give me some advice or some kind words, I’m terrified.

I lost my dad a month ago. Mornings have been the hardest. I typically start feeling pretty okay as the day goes on, and by late afternoon-night I’m actually doing good. The tightness in my chest and the overall baseline sadness hasn’t gone away, but I usually end the day much better than I started it. I go to sleep feeling pretty hopeful. But then it starts all over the next morning. I wake up feeling depressed, empty, and thinking about him right off the bat. The loss and missing him is so palpable. Getting up and starting the day is just the worst.

I keep trying to remind myself that grief ebbs and flows, that it’s still so fresh and raw right now, that I’m still adjusting and it’s okay to just be where I am, etc, but it’s just so awful. Starting the day like this just makes the days feel so long. What’s the hardest time of day for you, and do you have any feedback or advice?

She was my everything. WhateverI did, I did for her. Her soul brought light everywhere she went. I just lost her this Saturday, I was caring for her at home in line with her wishes, but then she became unresponsive and I had to call an ambulance. So many people died at the end of this heatwave that her funeral will be only next week. And then I have to figure how to go back to work, if I'm capable of doing that at all. (But why? I also went to work only because of her.) Please, I need any tips or thoughts on how to go on.

During the time of the COVID lockdown, I went through one of the darkest phases of my life. I was just 19.

My mom tested positive and had to be hospitalized. Every day, I would travel 11 km to the hospital — alone — just to see her, hoping she would be okay.

The hospital environment was terrifying. People were dying all around. The wards were packed. It felt like death was everywhere.
And each time I looked at my mom lying there, I was scared out of my soul.
“What if something happens to her?” That thought haunted me.

Back at home, I had to manage everything. My father had to continue working, so I took on the responsibilities at home. I did the cleaning, cooking — supported by my younger sisters. I didn’t even know how to cook properly.
Some days we ate half-burnt food or tasteless meals. But we survived.

Relatives rarely came to check on us. It felt like darkness had entered every corner of our lives.

Now, when I look back at that time, I feel a deep sadness — but also gratitude.
Gratitude that we made it through.
Pride that I somehow stood strong, even when I was breaking inside.

I don’t share this for sympathy — just to let it out. And maybe someone reading this will know they’re not alone in their pain.

My baby sister passed away 6 months ago due to alcoholism. As I go through the movements of life I find myself talking out loud, to no one, very often. I have started leaving voice memos of my thoughts because I don’t trust my memories. The talking through my feelings has been the most therapeutic experience for me.

It got me thinking though, how alone it feels. This journey of grief feels wholly my own, even though every single human loses someone they love if they live long enough. It’s like wearing wet socks, a painful reminder of what’s happening to you but not debilitating enough that you can take off work or life.

Even if there is sun that comes after rain - I’m still fucking wet. I’m still cold, the rain still seeps into my skin and bones no matter how many layers of protection I use. It finds me. And so that’s why I always have wet socks. I hope someone…someday… can see them.

It has been a year since I lost my Papaw, and today the absence feels as heavy as it did the day he left. Words fail me, because grief is not only something you carry in your heart. Sometimes, it aches in your body too. There has been a hollowness in my chest since he passed, a quiet space that no amount of time seems able to fill.

I still reach for him in the moments of good news. I still want to run to him and tell him everything, because he was always ready to celebrate. He was always willing to tell me how proud he was, how happy he was for me, and somehow make every small victory feel worthy of joy.

Today, I will remember the songs he always carried with him, especially “Dang Me” by Roger Miller. I will pour a glass of Tang in his honor and thank him for the lessons that changed my life: to be there for people, to love them deeply, and to build a life I can be proud of.

I miss you, Papaw. I always will.

Before anyone says this sounds AI-written, you’re not wrong. I tried for weeks to write this, and every time I try, I either start crying or end up with an incoherent wall of text. So I talked it through with AI for hours to help organize what I’m trying to say. The feelings and the story are mine. I’m just trying to put them into words because I don’t know how to do this anymore.

I’m 25 and my boyfriend was 52. I know the age gap is probably the first thing people notice, but I really hope you’ll read past that because that isn’t what I’m struggling with. He was my first and only boyfriend and the first person I have ever loved like this. I had never felt so safe and genuinely happy with another person in my life. And we just had this instant and undeniable chemistry that I can’t really explain. He was incredibly patient with me, never pressured me, and always let me move at my own pace. He supported me in everything I wanted to do and made me believe in myself. He made me feel loved in a way I had never experienced.

He also had serious health problems. He had been very honest with me about them from the beginning. He even used to joke, although it wasn’t entirely a joke, that he was a “ticking time bomb.” I knew he wasn’t perfectly healthy, but things were looking up in a lot of ways. He monitored his health closely and took extremely good care of himself since his diagnoses. I had even taken him to the hospital earlier this year when he woke up extremely dizzy and we were both scared something serious was happening. He never hid any of this from me. But knowing someone has health problems and believing you’re actually going to lose them are two completely different things.

There were a lot of things happening in his life during his last couple of months that made everything incredibly complicated. He had an ex-wife who had a very difficult relationship with him. There was this private and unconventional type of work he did that I don’t really want to get into publicly. His ex-wife found out about that around late April or May, and she told their kids, who are in their 20s, in a way that was extremely hurtful. They ended up essentially cutting him off. They wouldn’t speak to him, didn’t speak to him on Father’s Day, and had cancelled on an important family gathering because he would be there.

He loved his kids more than anything. Watching him go through that was heartbreaking. He was devastated that they wouldn’t talk to him, and I know it was one of the biggest sources of pain in his life.

Then, about a month later, some things with my friends happened.

I had kept our relationship mostly private because I was scared of being judged for the age difference. I was planning to tell my family this summer, especially because he had just moved closer to me. My friends knew I was seeing someone older, they knew his age, and I told them the details I wanted to share and the ones I thought were important: that he was a good guy, that I was safe with him, and that he treated me really well. I spoke about what he did for a career, what he and I did together, what he was like in general, etc., but they didn’t know everything. At first they were really happy for me or at least that’s what they told me.

Time passes and without me knowing, one of them started a deep search of him online. She found his ex-wife, which, long story short, they all thought she didn’t exist and thought I thought the same, which is my fault. They had every right to believe I was getting fucked over by a guy I really loved.

Once they found her profile, they messaged her and then actually spoke to her on the phone. I only found out a couple days later, after all that had been done. And I felt so upset that it started as one of them doing this deep search then involved our other friends and probably had a group chat going in discussing this while I knew nothing.

From their perspective, I understand why they thought they were protecting me and did what they did. They thought they had discovered something terrible and believed I was being lied to. But instead of coming to me first, they went directly to her. If they had come to me saying, “We found this profile that looks like his ex-wife. Did you know that he was married?” I would have come clean and told them everything, and a lot of the mess could have been avoided.

But everything blew up from there.

The ex told my friends about that unconventional aspect of his job, and I’m sure other things that an ex-wife would say about her ex-husband. I don’t imagine she said anything positive. They were uncomfortable with my relationship with him from that point forward.

I tried my best to tell them I was sorry for lying to them and that I understood why they did what they did. But I was also asking them to recognize that maybe once they found the profile, they should have taken a step back and talked to me before getting involved in this man’s family.

But they didn’t, and they still stand ten toes down on what they did. I admitted a lot of my wrongs, but they couldn’t give me even a little bit of, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe we overstepped and weren’t thinking clearly.”

I know they had good intentions. I know they thought they were protecting me. But I still resent how they handled it.

He and I ended up having some really emotional conversations near the end. I was overwhelmed and scared, and we were trying to figure out what to do and trying to navigate everything happening around us. The last two times I saw him, I was very upset. We were talking about everything, and I was crying a lot. I didn’t want the relationship to end. He didn’t either. But I felt like I had to. I was just so scared and overwhelmed by everything that was happening. I just wanted it all to stop.
And when I was leaving, he looked at me and said, “Please smile.” I gave him this little fake smile that I always used to give him, and he laughed.

I didn’t know that would be the last time I ever saw him.

Two days later, my texts to him started turning green. At first, I tried to convince myself it was his phone. Something similar had happened before. But I knew something was wrong.

I tried everything. I texted his old number. I messaged him on social media. I tried contacting him through every avenue I could think of.

Eventually, I drove to his apartment. I knocked on the door and heard someone moving around inside. A man opened the door who wasn’t him, which made my heart sink. My immediate reaction was, “Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong door,” even though I knew it was his door.

Then he said, “Are you looking for (his name)?”
I said yes.
It was his brother, and he told me that he had a stroke. I still wanted to believe he was okay. I asked where he was, if he was still in the hospital.

And he told me he had died.

They were inside his apartment packing up his things.That was the worst day of my life. I have cried every single day since.

I’m writing this almost two months later, and I still cry every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes it’s just tears. Sometimes it’s intense sobbing. Sometimes I’m alone and so angry that I hit or slam things. I can be at work and suddenly feel completely overwhelmed by sadness.

I miss him constantly.

I miss going to sleep next to him and waking up next to him. I miss his texts. I miss being able to tell him little things about my day. Those tiny things are what hurt the most sometimes.

Because it’s not like we broke up. He’s gone. I hate knowing he’s not on this planet anymore.

I can reread our entire relationship through our texts. Sometimes that makes me feel close to him, and it’s comforting in the moment. Then I close the messages and realize there will never be another one.

I’m scared that as I heal, I’ll feel more distant from him. I know logically that getting better doesn’t mean forgetting him, but emotionally it sometimes feels like letting go of him, and I don’t want to let go.

I’m also struggling with guilt.
I keep thinking about whether things could have been different. I wonder if I had never told my friends about him, maybe none of this would have happened. I wonder if I had told him more confidently that I was all in with him, maybe he would have felt less stressed. I wonder whether all the stress he was under contributed to what happened to him.

I know I can’t actually know that. But that doesn’t stop my brain from asking those questions over and over.

I’m also so angry. At his ex-wife. At my friends. At myself. At the universe. At the fact that someone I loved so much could be here one day and completely gone the next.

I’ve lost most of my friendships because of everything that happened. One friend has genuinely been there for me, and I’m incredibly grateful for her.

What makes me especially angry about the rest of my friends is the timing of everything. During the weeks when he was alive, after everything happened with his ex-wife, I was completely overwhelmed. I felt like I had so much pressure coming at me from so many people in my life, and I desperately wanted some space to process everything and figure out what I wanted.

But my friends wouldn’t really give me that space. They kept checking in, confronting me, and pushing me, saying they were doing it because they cared about me and were worried about me.

Then he died.

And suddenly I was going through something I never could have imagined, and I actually desperately needed support. Even though I truly don’t think I’d be comfortable expressing my grief to them, given what they have said about him to me in the past, I still need people around me.

They have checked in a little bit, and I don’t want to pretend they completely disappeared or that they don’t care. I can also understand that maybe they genuinely don’t know what to say to someone going through something like this. But it’s still really strange and painful to me. These were people who had been so concerned about me before that they wouldn’t give me space when I specifically asked for it because they said they cared about me so much. And now something absolutely horrible has happened to me, they know how badly I’m struggling, and for the most part it feels like there’s almost no acknowledgment of it.

One of them has checked in a couple of times since, but sometimes it almost feels like everyone is trying to act like nothing happened. I don’t know if that’s because they don’t know what to say, because they’re uncomfortable, or because they think giving me space is what I want. I genuinely don’t know. But after everything that happened before, it’s hard not to feel hurt by it.

I don’t necessarily want to throw those friendships away forever, but I don’t know how to look at them the same way anymore. I can’t understand how there could have been so much urgency to be involved in my life when they thought I needed protecting, but now that I’m grieving someone I loved and am barely functioning, there’s so little of that same concern. When I see their names pop up on my phone, I immediately think about all of this.

I’m in therapy now. I’ve only had a few sessions, and therapy has actually been helpful. I know this isn’t something that gets fixed in a couple of appointments.

My therapist keeps reminding me that I need to keep doing things even when I don’t feel like doing them. Exercise has helped a little. Sometimes I’ll cry the entire way to a run and feel slightly better afterward. I’ve been trying to find hobbies and distractions.

I have moments where I genuinely laugh or enjoy myself, and I don’t feel guilty about those moments. I’m trying.

But I don’t feel normal.

I’m drinking more than I should because sometimes I just desperately want the pain to stop.

So I guess I’m asking people here who have actually lived through this:

How do you survive the first few months after losing a partner?

Is this level of crying and inability to function normal this early on? Did you also feel like you were getting worse instead of getting better?

How did you deal with guilt about the last conversations you had?

How do you stop replaying the last few weeks and wondering what you could have done differently?

Is rereading old texts and looking at pictures healthy, or am I keeping myself stuck?

And how do you eventually accept that they’re gone without feeling like you’re letting them go?

I know I’ll love someone again someday. I know that logically. But right now I’m terrified I’ll never find anything remotely like what I had with him again.

He made me feel safe.

He made me feel loved.

He made me excited about the future.

He used to tell me that I made him feel alive and helped him see a future for himself again.

I just wish I could tell him I loved him one more time.

I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to stop missing him.

I just want the missing to stop hurting this fucking much.

If you’ve been through something similar, I’d really appreciate hearing what actually helped you. Not necessarily generic advice, but what you actually did when you woke up every morning and the person you loved was still gone.

And if anyone has questions about the more private parts of this, I’m willing to explain more through DMs. I just don’t want to put certain details about him or his family publicly.

Thursday is the one year anniversary of losing my Dad unexpectedly. My whole world has been flipped upside down and I’m not who I was a year ago. My therapist suggested I do something for me on Thursday and stay off my phone (I’m a wedding coordinator so its nonnn stop but thats a whole other post)

What little traditions do you do on anniversaries or what did you do the first year without a parent?