So many kind, thoughtful and helpful replies.
When my Mother died I was only 19 at the time (back in 1979), I was at University and nobody understood grief in "those days". I wasn't comfortable being with her towards the end - she had lung cancer - and I tried to stay at University for as long as possible. And then, literally straight after the funeral, I insisted that my father drive me to the station so that I could go back to University. If there was a "proper" way of grieving, then I certainly didn't follow it, I just cried and got on with my studies. Just under four years later, my father had gone too - they said it was also lung cancer, but he was a fit man and I am 99% sure he died from a broken heart. Again, I didn't go through any grieving process though I wasn't anywhere near as close to him as I was to my mother.
This time, though, the feelings are entirely different - as they would be. I have read the classic book by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, but with me, there isn't any set pattern or clear-cut feelings: the most overpowering one is sadness, I feel that I have lost about 95% of me and that I am now no longer needed or wanted as there is no one for me to care for or worry about. Though my son was adopted from Thailand and 43 years old when he died, he was very much a carefree child at heart and relied on me to do most things (he was also very lazy =+-). You miss the life and routine you used to share (he was with me for about 21 years), that dreadful loneliness. Then there is the inevitable guilt - he was an alcoholic and I just couldn't get him to stop drinking; the anger because the system failed him, and so many other emotions besides. At least he had a happy life and there were no unresolved issues between us, nothing that had been left unsaid and, thank the Buddha, I was there at the end and it was a peaceful one.
Thanks for listening.
Ducky _)_
