(((((((((((((((((Missing))))))))))))))))))))))), and anyone else who is grieving for a loved one at this time,

I lost my own father just a few weeks before you lost your father and I understand the rawness of your grief. The adjustment to this loss takes time and, although it does happen differently for each of us, it is a known fact that sometimes it can take up to two years to adjust and even longer for others.

The loss of a parent is particularly hard to take, as is the loss of a child for a parent, and a spouse for a spouse; in fact any death of any loved one is hard to take.

However, do not beat yourself up here...you are doing just fine. You will have up-days and you will have down-days. You will have missing-you-days, and you will have sweet-memory-days at the same time you could have my-chest-hurts-too-much-I-cannot-take-another-breathe-day or it-hurt-to-have-you-as-my-afather-but-it-hurts-to-lose-you-more,
-so-why-days?

And I could go on, for instance my own particularly bad day is the why-did-you-have-to-go-without-a-reconciliation-and
-without-saying-you-love-me-day.
And even worse for me is the why-did-you-reject-me-these-last-nine-years-of-your-life-and
-never-want-me-in-your-life-day.
And the very very worst of all WAS the now-you-are-dead-there-is-no-hope-of-a-reconciliation-and
I-cannot-send-you-any-more-olive-branches-days-and
-hope-you-will-not-reject-me-for-another-day-longer-for-now
-it-is-utterly-hopeless-for-evermore.

I had fallen September 1st and was on crutches, and then four weeks later I get a telephone call from my nephew telling me my father had passed away that morning. OUT of the blue, a bolt of lightening. I was stunned.

The funeral came and went and I cannot tell you the horrors of that, with my twin sister being so hurtful and arrogant and because of the weather and the traffic jams and the journey I did not manage to say good-bye to my father and they had begun the service before we, my son and daughter and me, got there. The first time in nine years I saw my father, I stood at the foot of his coffin to read a passage my twin had dictated I read.

My son took me to his place as I was in a dreadful state and was due to go down to be helped as I was having trouble at home managing the stairs on crutches, (even though I had been on crutches of two years before that after surgery - this time I was not coping, maybe the accident, the shock of my father's death and my ill health all made too big a demand on my failing coping mechanisms, I don't know), so son had decided that it would be right to take me down to his place to have family about.

Things did not turn out as we all thought due to his duties and his partner's long hours and I was actually in a worse position than if I had been left here at home with my church family and friends to help me, however, we were not to know that. I was left alone from 7am 'til 10pm at night and no one to call in; whereas if I had been here my friends would have called in or telephoned, so my aloneness was even greater at my son's, the only benefit was I did not have stairs to manage.

The fact is though I have to wonder about this for. three weeks later, when I was in the depth of darkest despond I yelled at God that I needed Him to send someone to help me preferrably a man of GOD so they would understand me better, (I can be very specific at times) because I felt I was breaking up and not just losing it, but that I had LOST IT. I was suicidal, and wanted to stop the world and jump off.

For some reason I found myself looking on the internet for the Samaritans and I rang the local number, and the man on the end of the phone told me to get a taxi to the office right then, if I did not have the money, he would pay but get there NOW. He could not leave as he was the only one there at that time, but another helper was due in in half an hour, so he would be able to speak with me, so he could not close the office to meet me elsewhere. I did as I was told. (I think I would have gone 200 miles if I had been told to, I was no longer in control.)

When I eventurally sat with this man (never met him before of again) and told him of my despair he talked to me of my deep faith (how did he know how deep my faith was?) and my belief that God would not desert me (what!) and that reconciliation had already taken place in my grief and every tear was washing all the pain, the distress, the hurt and the rejection and hopelessness from me.

He told me God had not deserted me, that I was being held in the palm of His hand and that He was answering my prayers, even now. He also told me that my father was aware of my suffering and sadness at his rejection even now and that all was being put right, and my father now understood what he did not understand in his lifetime. And he left me with this thought:

God knows that heartbreaking aching feeling that the next breathe is just too difficult to take because of the weight of your grief. Time and faith in Him will cleanse that and heal it, and you will come through. Just keep on holding on to the one who will NEVER EVER LET YOU DOWN.

When I left I found myself turning back and I rang the bell again. He came back to the door and I told him about asking God to send me someone to help, preferablly a man of God, and I found myself saying "I know you are a man of God." and I took out my wooden holding cross from my pocket. He took one look and said, "I make them and send them on to....Retreat House" (exactly where I had bought mine from miles from where we were at that time.) I was stunned.

Tears rolled down my face, and he said, "Hold on to that cross whenever you feel you cannot hold on to anything or anyone else." He then told me he was a Fransican Monk but that when on duty with the Samaritans he did not wear 'uniform' as not everyone would be comfortable talking with a monk if they knew he was a monk. (My demand for a man-of-GOD had been granted, and not just any one, one that carved crosses, one of which I had in my pocket at that time.)

This was my experience. This is the lifeline I was sent. If it helps anyone, and particularly you (((((Missingout))))))) at this time, then I am honoured to have shared this. I am not saying you will experience the same, but that you will heal, you will need time, however grief can be worked out, as I am working mine out even to this day. I am not there yet. I am on my journey of adjustment and when I will feel completely adjusted I do not know, I just know that I do it minute by minute at times, or days pass before I get to a hiccup, for that is what I see them as now...not all crushing defeat but small victories along that path, just the same as my healing and recovery programme pans out in al-anon.

If it does not sit with you, then disregard any or all of this. I do not preach a faith, this is just how it is with me and I have spoken of a very personal experience. This is part of my journey.

I carry that cross everywhere and I hold on to it everyday, and I remember my answered prayer in that most despairing and darkest hour of my grief. It is my hope that in sharing this intimate experience, others might find comfort, and that I do not hurt anyone by sharing this incredulous experience.

Suzannah