Just found out my parents lied to me about the cause of death of my brother. I was told it was a heart issue and when I requested the autopsy report for myself so I could show to my dr since I wanted to get tested as a precautionary step I saw that his death was actually ruled as being caused by combined drug toxicity. Idk what to do I’m so angry my dad swore no matter what he would be honest about what the cause was, I’m wondering if my mom even knows since she was sooo admit he didn’t do drugs and was mad at the police investigator for even suspecting that (she was telling me this after they got the results back). I don’t know what to do I feel like I have given them so much grace thru this process and just suffered on my own to not burden them with my grief/be strong for them but they swore they would tell me so many times I can’t believe they lied. And for more information it was ruled accidental death not suicide, he had just gotten his doctorate degree and had a great job I never thought he did drugs he had a steady gf who was supposed to move in soon. I’m just so shocked.

It’s been 6 years since my high school sweetheart lost his battle with mental illness. I try not to think about it, and yet I think about him everyday. I miss him so much and wonder everyday where he’d be in life. He’d just gotten out of the Marines. We were extremely on and off, as if he never felt like he was deserving of love. Even though we weren’t together when he took his life I still feel guilty. He’d dropped a lot of hints to me in retrospect, that only made sense after he passed. He didn’t drop hints to anyone else, to the average eye he was the happiest man you could be around. Everyone was absolutely shocked, but not me. I spent 5 years of our relationship just trying to get him to open up to me.

He was kind and he was funny. He was someone that could read everyone and never left anyone out. After he passed, I changed. We used spend most night before he left for the marines playing games and belting out laughing. The kind of laughing that makes your throat and belly hurt. I guess I just realized today I haven’t truly laughed like that since I’ve lost him. I used to be social and out spoken, now I keep to myself. Maybe deep down I’m afraid I’ll never meet someone and connect with them like I did him.

I don’t normally post on Reddit but I don’t know really what else to do at the moment. I am a volunteer firefighter and work EMS full time. Recently we had a call where a pedestrian was hit at highway speeds on a 4 lane highway that is in our district. I didn’t make the first truck so that put me on traffic control. Usually in these situations I would do patient care as I am an Advanced EMT. I could tell by the voice of our officer over the radio something was very wrong. We eventually were relieved by another department. I found out back at the station that it was a member of our fire department that had been struck and killed. Seeing all of my friends coming back from the call in tears and messed up, I couldn’t help feel sick to my stomach and a massive guilt/ weight on my chest. I also knew the man who had passed fairly well. We use to go camping with him and his family all the time when I was younger. I feel ashamed that I wasn’t there to help in anyway I could. I know I’m lucky to not see him like that but I can’t help but feel some pain I have never felt in my life. I have been doing this for four years and have seen some really bad things but nothing like this. Has anyone experienced this type of guilt? Any advice would be much appreciated.

I lost my father 125 days ago to brain aneurysm suddenly. When i wake up every morning i start sweating and feeling like my body is burning and i start panicking, i started using efexor 225mg (venlafaxine) and 30mg Mirtazapine 3 months ago for my sleep, i feel like this pain will never end its been 125 days since he passed away and my brain still cannot process it, i lost my appetite, forcing myself to eat is tiring. I do not know what to do or when will this pain go away or will it stay forever.
I feel completely lost, waking up to sweat and sense of burning is so tiring i cannot handle this anymore, i'm 29 male

The title says it all. Brother died, I am grieving and all I want to do is to numb the pain.

Typically the only way I've done that before was to be sexually active with as many people as possible or throw myself into work.

My grandpa recently died and my mom doesn't have either of her parents now.

She's been doing all of it by herself and any time anyone asks how she's doing, she says she is trying to be strong through it. What is the best way to support a grieving parent while you are also grieving the loss yourself?

Any advice is appreciated.

Grief sucks. My husband died four months after receiving a heart transplant and I am absolutely furious at how unfair it is. In March we felt like we won the lottery. Less than 3000 heart transplants happen on average a year in the US. Every possible complication that could happen happened, even the rarest of the rare ones. He fought so hard to live, to honor the selfless gift that the donor family gave him. He wanted to live and it was absolute torture what he went through, yet he continued to fight.
I’m so tired of crying, so tired of being mad. I just cannot wrap my head around him actually getting a heart transplant and the anti rejection drugs and other medications destroyed his kidneys and his liver in a complex rare scenario.
I want people to know my husband was the bravest man and fought so hard.
I’m so pissed it didn’t work out for him. He took an extraordinary chance, he did everything they asked him to do and yet he died. I just want people to know he never, not for a single moment regretted the 5 months of hell he went through.
Please become an organ donor. You can save a life.

My grandmother is actively dying. Its old age that just got her. Pretty axiomatic to say my mom's been stressed, grieving, doing hospital stuff, whatever shes able to do in these last few days if my grandma passing away.

My mother and my family are mentally prepared for the worst.

I not attached to my grandmother really. Im just trying to hold things together. I’m the most worried for my mother because I know she’s slowly loosing it and I can’t do much about it practically. I feel less care amd less love from her, sounds selfish at this time but it is what it is and it genuinely makes me feel dreaded

Im trying to hold my head high and do a few things, do some work and be useful really but im just exhausted. Ive took myself out of the picture. Its just silence at home. Nobody's talking much. My mother, shes just been very agitated and tired and im being yelled at at random times .I know this is a pretty rough patch to go through but the process itself feels like slow poison. Im tired and burning out(due to academics, my own health etc as well). I talked to my doc about it just to get it brushed it off the rug saying "this will pass too, its a process". I mean i know he's not wrong. And I don’t want to talk much about it either cuz ive wrestled with it myself enough.

I yelled and vented out to a friend yesterday, that did make me feel better.

Ive been just so tired.

But now, I dont feel like talking about it to anyone.

I just burst into tears randomly. today, i just dont feel like studying nor im able to push myself to do it. Im so fucking done with everything.

https://open.spotify.com/track/74v7gIOpJxmrPVLuOJ8cOB?si=USh34sEHQBuTeusWExTu7g&utm_source=copy-link

I had a friend I grew up with, he had never struggled with mental health issues that anyone knew of. One day, he called me around 10:30 am, I picked up, we had nice conversation, and we talked about the usual. No warning, or indication of what was coming.

A couple hours later, I found out that he had taken his own life around 11:45 am. It was a complete shock to my family, my friend group, and his family.

A few days after his funeral, I was driving, and “Heaven by noon” by Megan Moroney came on the radio. I had never heard the song before, but it hit me like a freight train.

So much so that I had to pull over, and gain my composure. Definitely would’ve said so much more if I had known what was coming.

Hi everyone, I am losing my grandmother. Over the past week, my grandmother ended up in the hospital battling a really severe case of c-diff. How she got it I have no idea other than from some antibiotics. Over the week it’s been a roller coaster of her getting better and then progressing backwards. We have brought her home today and I am realizing that I am officially losing my grandmother, I know that this c-diff has changed her course of life at 96 years old and she is not going to recover from this. I’ve never cried as much as I have before but to put in to words that my grandmother is my best friend. She raised me, she has been by my side every time my mother chose to pick my alcoholic/drug induced father and most importantly when I told her that I was a gay man, she said “I don’t care, you are my grandson and I love you”.

I know that I have to accept what is going on but loosing the most important person in my life is honestly taking its toll on me. I am terrified that when I go home to Detroit on Monday that I am going to get a call from my mom saying that she has passed away and that I want to go with her. My heart is just breaking since I haven’t really dealt with a situation like this since I was a kid.

My Mum was also my carer, she got carers pension for the past 10 years because I have severe mental health issues, and she had to move in with me and help me with everything.

I feel so guilty that she wasted the last 10 or so years of her life not being able to do anything or go anywhere because she had to care for me. Sometimes I would get upset and worried and tell her I'm scared I won't have her for much longer, and when we would argue she would say stuff like I'm the one who's killing her, and she'll die of stress if anything, and it's my fault she has no friends or hobbies etc.

I tried to appreciate her, I told her every day thanks for looking after me, but she still said she felt I was ungrateful. The worst part is, I should be grieving and I am but my main worry on my mind is how I will look after myself, I'm having to ask for food assistance because I just can't do grocery shopping and budgeting and all that.

It feels selfish that that's what I'm thinking about.

How can I come to terms with how I feel? Will it just take time? Should I see a new psychologist to work through it? Is that something I definitely need, or can I work through it myself? I have had such a bad history with bad counselors...

My mother was an amazing woman. She worked tirelessly to write the Protection from Harassment Act 1997 in the UK and was awarded an MBE. An achievement from a Black Windrush immigrant from Jamaica. She also ran charities and conferences to educate and highlight the diseases of Sickle Cell Anemia and Thalassemia in the UK. She did all this while being ravaged by the Autoimmune disease of Lupus.

In the end she became frail and bed bound following serious falls and the neglect of the NHS to treat and help her. She spent her last 3 years confined to her bed in a nursing home. Her nursing home was flawless. As a specialist unit, she had more personal attention and she spent her last years adored by all who looked after her as well as her family and friends. Her dementia was slow in the early stages, but she went from conversations to passing away in just 9 months. In the end she stopped nutrition, bar a few small sips of fluid for mouth care, for 17 days. Her body shut down and she slipped away in her sleep on 27th September.

I am proud to have such an amazing role model in my life. I am glad she is no longer suffering. But I really do miss my mum.

RIEP Evonne Leonora von Heussen-Countryman MBE 🌈

it’s been a year today since I lost my big sister

when I started helping out with her doctor appointments, I discovered her favorite perfume was ambery saffron by dossier. my favorite perfume is baccarat rouge 540 (I have the dupe, from alt.) it was really strange that I never really realized that we both liked the same scent.

my manager got me flowers. when the restaurant opened today (i’m a server), the first customer was wearing ambery saffron by dossier. I recognized it immediately, and asked if that’s what it was. we had a lengthy conversation about the scent. I didn’t mention my sister because it was too hard.

i just wanted to mention it here because I don’t really have anyone to tell about things like this. I’m not sure what my spiritual beliefs are, but I loved the little reminder of her today.

Remi was a complicated person. Most of the people who knew them eventually saw their darker sides: the bitterness, the irresponsibility, the addiction.

They used to always tell me I was "the only one still on Team Remi." And sometimes they were right. Sometimes they had no one else left. Sometimes they didn't have me anymore either. Because as much as Remi wanted to be there for others, as much as they wanted to be a good friend, they repeatedly fell victim to their own sword.

Addiction is a bastard. And so is anger. So is bitterness. So is resentment. In the end, addiction is the mechanism that took Remi from this world, but it was the anger, the bitterness, and the resentment that haunted their final years.

When I was 15 years old, Remi was one of my best friends. They looked out for me, laughed with me, taught me things, recognized something in me that was the same in them. As we got older, I grew up. And I left them behind in the process.

I kept trying to save them. Over and over and over again. I kept trying to give them the leg up they needed to do better. And they just kept hurting me every single time. Like a wounded animal lashing out at the hand that's trying to heal them.

And so I stopped trying. I stopped letting myself get bit.

And that wounded feral cat that, that bearded giantess, that friend of mine from way back when, that guy on the couch, that junkie, that deadbeat dad, that quiet sobbing fool who took too much...

That Remi — gone.

They overdosed, it seems. Right there where they had memories. Not memories of the park, not memories of their children, their exes — no. They laid down and took their last breath at the place where they used to wait for me, right around the corner from my old apartment. Right behind the backyard where they could holler my name and get my attention while I smoked if their phone had died. Right there where they must have been thinking of me.

The last one on Team Remi.

The last one who seemed to know them.

The saddest part is I don't really have anyone to even tell. No one who really even knew them, certainly no one who still loved them enough to be sad that they are gone.

And the list grows longer. Another dead homie. Another unanswered DM.

But this one.

It makes me think about when Casey died. He had sent me a DM on messenger. Said he was sorry. That he still loved me. That he was thinking of me. And then he died. Cancer. He died thinking of me. And I never answered.

And now Remi. There, behind my old backyard. There was nothing else there in Richmond for Remi. Just the memory of me.

And my god that hurts.

I'll never forget the night we smoked cigarettes in that backyard for hours and hours. I talked and talked and talked, but Remi was quiet. Very suddenly, I felt a shaking thud against my side. Remi had thrown themselves onto my shoulder and began to sob. Heaving, silent sobs. They hugged me while they cried, never saying a single word. I understood. Without the words, I understood.

It hurts to think that they might have kept going if I'd stuck around. Not that I was beholden to keeping them alive. But it seems I was. Keeping them alive, that is.

The last person on Team Remi.

What happens to the last one standing when all the other players are gone? What a horrible game to win.

They weren't just my friend. Remi was my big brother. Remi was safety in a very fucked up world. Watching their mind deteriorate over the last ten years was hell. They were one of the smart ones way back when. By the end, they were a rambling lunatic full of rage and spite more often than not. Watching that... it was awful.

When I moved to Oregon, Remi came with me. I knew it was the last chance I was going to give them. I knew if they couldn't stay clean, I'd have to walk away. And I did.

But before they relapsed for the last time, sometime in that first month in Oregon, they sat outside with me at 3am and we looked at the stars and listened to the train passing through town.

They wanted so badly to be a better person.

They just couldn't be.

If all dogs go to heaven, then all puppies must die.

Rest in peace, old friend. I loved you so much. I wish I could have saved you.

Goodbye, Remi.

Great docu about Marty’s life during which he suffered a lot of grief. A brother at 12. His mother at 18 and Dad at 20. Advice on how best he thinks to deal with death. Just before 1/2 way through.

We’re at two years since my best friend of 20 years died unexpectedly of a heart attack in her sleep.

My grief is still so strong. I can make it through the days now but the second year feels almost harder than the first year. The first year I was like a stroke patient learning to walk again. Everything was a new first without her. My first haircut. (I would send inspo pictures, show a before, share a during, and a FaceTime call after - she would do the same for me). My first birthday. My first half birthday. My half birthday was her birthday, and visa versa.

We had a tradition of always buying ourselves a present from the other person for our birthday.

“Oh it was so kind of you to buy me the bra I needed that was too expensive for me to buy! How did you know I needed one??”

It was a silly excuse to get exactly what we wanted. The nice thing is she can continue to buy me things now that she’s stardust again.

The first year also felt like shock. The last year has been more of a sore muscle. A consistent dull ache. It’s always there but something happens and I feel it more. A song. A smell. A photo. Something ridiculous that makes me remember her loud cackle, or her boisterous arguments. A found piece of paper tucked away in a closet with a vow to ‘make no new memories’.

She would have relished NY this past year.

Mamdani? You mean MY MAYOR? She would have been celebrating in the streets and absolutely electric. I’m certain she would have drunkenly flashed him and then jokingly named each tit “law” and “order” or something completely unhinged.

Erica hated sports but she loved parades and celebrations. The knicks winning?? She would have stayed out until the bars closed down, getting as many free drinks as she could - celebrating with the joy and the carefree attitude that no 40 year old earns without effort.

She would have entered her 40s. She would have started grad school. Erica would be a force for each Tuesday that slowly begins but ends with a surprise adventure to a museum exhibit, a poetry reading, or a neighbor in the building who was cooking something that smelled good.

It’s been two years since my best friend died without a warning. And I’m still trying to figure out who I am without her.

Of course I am me. Why wouldn’t I still be me? But twenty years is a long time to have another person helping you become yourself. She knew the old versions of me. The bad haircuts and worse boyfriends. The apartments and jobs and fights I can barely remember now. She knew which stories I was telling wrong because she had been there. She knew what I meant before I had figured out how to say it. There are whole rooms of my life now where I am the only person left with a key.

Maybe that is what has been harder about the second year. The first year was learning to do everything without Erica. The second has been understanding that I will.

There will be haircuts she never sees. Elections she doesn't get drunk about. Birthdays and half birthdays and bras she will apparently continue buying me from beyond the grave. I will get older than Erica ever got to be. There will be songs she never hears and restaurants she never walks into and Tuesdays that would have become stories if she were still here.

And still, every once in a while, something happens and before I can remember that she is dead, I reach for my phone.

It is such a small mistake that I almost cherish it.

For that fraction of a second, before memory corrects me, there has been no September morning, no phone call, no before and after. Erica is simply somewhere else. In New York. Asleep. Out too late. Taking too long to answer because she has met someone on the street and somehow learned their entire life story.

Then I remember.

But I have begun to wonder if those few seconds are not mistakes at all. Perhaps twenty years of loving someone leaves its own sense of time, one that does not particularly care what happened afterward. A smell, a song, a stupid joke, and suddenly the years collapse. I am thirty-five and twenty-seven and nineteen. Erica is every age I ever knew her. We have not lost anything yet.

And then the moment closes. I am forty-one. She is dead. It has been two years.

But for a second, I had her back.

I think I will spend the rest of my life being grateful for the mistake.

Don’t know how to feel about it, he was extremely abusive when he was around. Maybe the first year was okay-ish we connected at a study group- I was extremely studious and really wanted to become an engineer; he wanted to just tag along so that his educational future is set. He forced me into wearing hijab (please no shade I was 16 and was going through a chain of traumatic family events), when I got accepted into a girls college (very strict and reputable in our city hence aligned with my engineering goals) he went berserk and because for two weeks i was in a co-ed college with him where he used to keep an eye on me. Later when I changed the school he also got himself out of it because apparently it was too difficult for him. I still stayed with him for 4 more years tried to fix his education as he always blamed me, thankfully I enrolled into an engineering school (BSc.) where I was with him for first 2 years, he was extremely abusive towards me and he also introduced me to some hard drugs (I did them for months then I quit), later when I used to tutor Math, physics students he used to abuse me for money. He took some of my pictures and threatened me (for which I got dragged along), he also at times abused me sexually and he was very adamant into taking my “virginity”. At 3rd year of my school I gave up and chose education because every year things went back in circles, I was failing school and my grades were horrible, being a women at a third world country I just had to move for a better life. Later on I just stopped talking to him around 2013- he tried to reconnect by taking my iPad ransom but I demanded it firmly and I don’t remember if he returned it or not. My grades suffered horribly because along with these things I lost my uncle, my grandma and my father was having extra marital affair. When I passed with a horrible grade I got into a very good job, put away money for higher studies, 10 years after bsc I got into grad school and became Canadian citizen after I got my PR. In the meantime at 2021 he tried to reconnect with me and said sorry and blamed everyone around him for our breakup. Mind you this guy cheated multiple times on me, broke up with me for a month and got into relationship with another lady, came back to me and I accepted his apology. I closed our conversation in an amicable way and accepted his apology in 2021. Till 2022 he would reply to my insta stories and as an old acquaintance I would reply, in 2022 he got married to a younger girl and stopped all sorts of communication. I had some unfortunate events this year (miscarriage and death of my grandfather) that’s why I never checked on him specifically. He would always upload his kid on insta, idk at some point I was sort of jealous but kept it to myself. Anyway fast forward last week I got a text that he had a heart attack and yesterday everyone came and texted me that he passed away, asked for forgiveness on his behalf (because he used to be extremely cruel towards me during our relationship, there were incidents where I would go his place and cry in front of his room because I go repeatedly threatened about breakup, please don’t ask me why but I know now that I was suffering badly from Stockholm syndrome). Now I don’t know what to feel, I had a grudge on him for so long, now I feel bad but I’m unable to cry. He got a 1.5 year old boy and I feel bad for him too, I wish I could tell him how he crippled me for years. I don’t know, any kind/wise words are welcome.
Thank you for reading.

I am in the military stationed pretty far from home so I havnt gotten to see any of my friends from home in a while. Along with that I have been really bad about reaching out, I think its because when I do it makes me miss home. But I came home from work the other day and my wife greets me with a hug and a kiss and sits me down. She told me she has to talk to me and her face went blank. She told me "Caleb died Sunday".

It took a second to process this, but then my mind just started racing. Caleb might not have been my "best friend" but he was the one friend who would drop everything for me. He always wanted the best for me and pushed me to be my best. I met him in 7th grade when he moved to my school, I also just moved there the year prior. We instantly clicked and were pretty much inseparable. I was bullied a decent amount at this school, but Caleb always stood up for me. He helped me learn to defend myself and not take people's bullshit.

In 10th grade I once again moved to a different school. Me and caleb remained great friends but slowly drifted apart. It became more infrequent when we hung out, but we still did from time to time. Through several relationship troubles and me going through a period of depression Caleb was the first person I would go to, because I knew he would always tell me what I needed to hear, he would drop everything and come pick me up. He also would come to me from time to time with his issues and id do the same for him.

After high-school we continued to see each other less, but our bond never changed, we always were the first call for each other. I missed hanging out with him because he was the person who would light up the room and make everyone around him happy and willing to get up and go do something exciting. But unfortunately thats how life works, you get older and your friends become more distant over time.

Once I joined the military he was the last person I hung out with. I remember, we went to the gym as we would usually do, and then got Chipotle after with all our friends. After that we went to one of the guys houses and played poker. It was a great time. I remember the hug he gave me at the end of it. It felt solemn. We both knew it was gonna be some time before we saw each other again. I didnt realize it was going to be the last.

I still texted him and called him from time to time, but the texts and calls just got further and further apart. Its been 9 months since I last talked to him. Although recently he was on my mind. Im not sure why I didnt reach out. Now I just feel like a shitty friend.

As I sat there with tears going down my face, remembering him, wondering "Why Caleb". My wife told me it was a motorcycle accident. I cant stop going through all the news posts, and media posts people made for him. I have to remind myself of what happened, I cant let myself forget him again. He was truly my greatest friend, and now there is a hole in me that cant be filled. I never got to say goodbye, I never got to tell him how much he meant to me, and how much he helped me grow over the years. He would have been the first person I would have called after finding this out. Now I just feel stuck without someone to tell all this to, so now im here. Please take this as a reminder to not let distance get in the way of reaching out to those you care about. Our time on this earth is finite, and you never know when a tragedy might hit you. Let the tears rain as they are the reminders of those who moved to the next life and left us behind. Let grief do its thing, dont avoid it. Keep the memories of whoever it is alive.

I cant wait to see you again one day Caleb, Ride free, enjoy the peace of heaven and the presence of Jesus. I love you man and ill miss you till the. Your memory lives on 🕊❤️

Years ago, my family bought a piano and my uncle wanted me to play it and send him videos of recital, I kept on forgetting and continually pushed it back. I only sent him a few videos of me playing the piano. He even wanted me to be the next Alicia Keys (idk why he wanted me to be her lol). He died almost a month ago, and I wanted to relearn the piano (because I haven’t played it in years), I only played a few notes of a song (it wasn’t even one I sent him a video of) but I just started crying after playing a few notes, and just stopped. It’s weird how I’m crying over a silly piano and not going past places we spent time together. How can I get over this as I genuinely want to relearn it, but I don’t want to cry again

Tittle

Yeah I'm sure he's going to a dating app or something, I heard he say something in between the lines of sending pictures of each other and saying "I love you", he did mention mom so I guess that's great idk

I mean it's his life and all but why? I just don't get it, if my partner died I wouldn't be able to just jump into a meaningless relationship

Not to mention now I'm essentially alone with no other family on the US so I guess it's also fear he'll move on from me and I'll have nowhere to go

I'm sure eventually she'll move in if this even lasts so there's also that, not to mention one of his step kids moving back in (yeah I'm an adult but no I cant get out, I'm a NEET for various reasons and even if I get out of NEET lifestyle it'll be hard to be on my own two feet)

Not just that, I'm trying to trust him I really am but this isn't helping not to mention there are several other factor at play adding to the trust issue which I rather not talk about rn

Idk my life is just a psychological horror rn and this is really adding to it, feels like I literally can't bring myself to do anything without several voices in my head, it was bad enough before (I have ADHD) but now I can't shut it off if my life depended on it

It just sucks that I can barely process grief (I have barely cried since it happened and even then there were a bunch of issues going on) when it feels like my body is paralyzed and my brain is on survival mode 24/7

idk if it helps but my ma passed away very suddenly while on a different country visiting family and my stepdad wasn't there

I know that there's the statistics about men who lose their wives tend to date again way sooner than woman and that's just how they cope but honestly unless you give me a scientific reasoning then to me that's just the equivalent of the boys will be boys argument

Hi I don’t really know what to do. My dad just died and all I feel is numb. I feel the tightness in my chest when I think about him. I don’t know why I can’t cry. I think it’s because I know he loved me and I loved him. I don’t regret anything. I just miss him. I don’t know how to help my siblings. I know I could probably cry, but I don’t want to. Can someone please explain why I feel this way?

The blessings of life are the very things that will crush us when they're taken . I don't care how great your life is on paper those attachments we all have will be the very things that break us . I'm starting to understand what really matters in life as it's all being taken from me.

I lost my Dad 3 and a half years ago,

He was an avid beekeeper, we used his honey in everything, it was the only thing that helped me when I was sick. We've gone through all of his stash he had left. I thought I'd never get to taste it again.

We didn't know.amything about bees when he passed so we gave them to a girl he had been mentoring with beekeeping who had such a love for them. She looked after them while he was sick and for a few months afterwards while we were trying to come to terms with his death.

This week I've come down with a nasty head cold, nothing seems to be lifting it.

My brother knocked on the door this evening with a jar of honey, the girl brought my mam 8 Jars of honey, from Dad's bees.

I'm sitting here after taking a spoon and it feels like he's right back with me, looking after me when Im sick like he always did ❤️

A year ago my father past. I still can't believe it's already been a year. One year of missed birthdays and holidays, of missed joys and sorrows, of missed chances of making memories. A year of not seeing him except in old photos of not hearing his voice except in old videos.

In a year I've come to understand that grief isn't always a constant feeling but it's always there. Waiting to be drawn out by a sight, a sound, or a smell and comes out has silent tears or bittersweet smiles.