Month: December 2024

Grief – What does it look like?

/ Maria Thomas / Leave a comment

It’s four weeks today since dad left us and how does the world look? Lonely, hollow, in a daze. People are talking and I’ve zoned out, or I’m exhausted or I’ve forgotten what they have said. Currently, silence is my friend. Coming home after work has been difficult as some days I would usually go straight to see dad. I realise how much I am holding in and I cry when I get home or on the way home.

It’s hard to be honest at work as to why you want to leave work, to go and speak to your therapist but there’s no way around explaining why you need the time, it isn’t a given. Equally I am grateful that work understand and have given me the time off. 

I’m starting to feel anger towards all sorts of things, little triggers. I feel irritated by the smallest things and at the same time I know they are small inconsequential moments. I am fighting the urge to allow myself to become irritated by people and moments and I know this is not me. I am justifying, reflecting within myself, having conversations over again within to make sure what I am thinking is actually from a genuine place or from somewhere else.

I told my therapist recently I understand the light and the dark can exist all at once and that’s okay. Probably the biggest take home from her since I started having therapy. The light and the dark feels deeply vast and expanse. Although the darkness is more attractive and can feel comfortable as I have been there growing up and through moments of my life.

I am getting married next year and I had two scenarios in my head, either see my dad before I got married or see him the day before.  I honestly thought he would be with me beyond 90 year which he would have been in April. How could I have been in denial for months. I weep and sigh, I thought I had more time. In reality I had the best of times I could have had under the circumstances. 

One of my closest friends spoke to me the other day, she was the one person who checked in on my mum when she was admitted to hospital on various occasions and when she had lung cancer. She said “you have all this time to adjust to, you spent years looking after your dad”. I don’t think that has completely sunk in yet.

I think of all the things my parents didn’t get a chance to see but I remember all the things they experienced with me during their lifetime. There was something about wanting to be the first person to obtain a degree, the first person to get married in a western way. I wanted to make my parents proud and I know when growing up, nothing felt like it was good enough for my dad. As an adult and a reflective person, I know my parents came from their own lack of “enoughness” from their own parents and their own belief of what they hoped to achieve in life. I was a “people pleaser” for my parents as I wanted them to be pleased and happy with my achievements. There were many rebellious moments where I couldn’t give a f@@k and my parents didn’t speak to me. Ahh those teenage years but you have to go through them in order to understand or try to.

Poem
Hold my hand and tell me that one day I will see you again
Not on the shores of the sea, in the cold and grey
Not in the darkness and seeking the light
But on a bench where we sat talking, laughing, walking together

We listened to the birds, we watch the squirrels ferrying for nuts, the sky held a calm
We smelled the rosemary and the mint together, we held the apples from the garden
We sat on the bench and enjoyed summer days
I miss the stillness, to be or not to be moments, the smiles, the pain, the loss

I hear your voice still, I hear your laughter in my heart, I see your struggles
They were not nice, they were angry, fearful, lost in a world of non-sense
A world where we know this sense, this hollowness, this part of you or me
That dissolves into nothingness

The tension in my stomach has not left, the silence of my phone disturbs me
I miss your voice calling me, I know you’re with me. 
Dad – I cannot do this again, the caring, the arguing, the understanding, the loss 
at every stage. I cannot find the patience, the empathy, the many stages, the hurt,
the grief.

I ache, I hurt.

In Search of Myself

/ Maria Thomas / Leave a comment

For a long time I’ve been trying to figure out how to stay in touch with my intuition and guidance system. I feel blessed to meet people who want to talk about their own spirituality and will share what gifts they hold. Sometimes, I feel so vulnerable and such an open book even if I don’t share much. I can feel that I am being read, or at least I feel like I am. Notice the difference between the feeling of being “read” and the feeling of being “judged”. I used to feel judged but that was/is my own trigger that has been brought to the forefront of my own fears.

I am also aware there are times when I feel in sync with the universe and other times I allow myself to be consumed by the noise and be distracted by things that should not be within my framework of goals. And what exactly is my framework of goals? I still don’t know. I asked myself the other day “when did I last feel alive and one with the universe?”. It was a looooonnng time ago. There are always moments that I feel in sync but now they feel like moments of continual momentum. Not in the motion/active way but a spiritual inertia.

I am finding comfort in being able to speak about my spiritual, intuitive side as more people are discussing their own. I am always in awe of the gifts that people have to hear, feel and see clearly spirit or happenings. And living in a physical world does carry baggage of that limited, trapped mindset and how everything needs to be scientifically proved or have validity in some way. Not everything has to be scientifically proved, does it? There are many that believe in a god, can we prove this existence scientifically or is this faith of something more?

I am a curious being and like to question everything within reason, not necessarily for explanations but for perspectives. My mum delved into the world of faith-healing, fortune-telling, she read cards, palms and it fascinated me but also scared me.

At present I seeking more of an understanding of how I work, my own blocks; and to allow life to unfold by deeply trusting myself and my guidance system. “Guidance system” – what does this mean? An inner voice, a sense of timing, energy and space. Also, trusting the universe has my back. Does this sound all woo woo, maybe it is but what if it isn’t. Why do people say things like “It felt like someone walked over my grave?” or “I feel like I’m having de ja vu”.
I am so grateful for many things and at this particular crunch point it is helping me with utter grief that I feel daily.

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My dad has lived with dementia and prostate cancer for the last 7-8 years and it has been the most difficult, traumatic time of my life. I can’t imagine what he is going through, how the neural pathways are disconnecting his memories, and closing off parts of who he was as a fully cognitive man. Am I denying death or am I seeking answers that will make it more acceptable?

I am conflicted, I am overwhelmed, I am cherishing all the moments I speak with him, hold his hand, hug him, see him smile because there are too many times the anger settles in. I feel he is in pain, physically, he is also probably angry to be losing his identity, basic functions of the things he used to know and do so well, so independently. He is losing himself in the physical world. How and why does this happen?

One of the things I recently learned about me, was that I was playing the victim, well at least saying something in a way to evoke sympathy and to make myself feel better, to support the fact that “I’m doing a good job as a dutiful daughter” by caring for him. I know that I have lived with a lot of guilt, shame, even hatred toward myself for not being a better daughter or a better person, for arguing with him before and after all of his diagnoses, for feeling angry for many unanswered questions, that his past was hidden from me, for not being able to say what I wanted to say or ask.

Along this journey for the last 8 years, I have learned to love myself more, take credit for fighting for dad and making sure he has a good quality of life, to uphold his dignity when needed and know that I made a choice to be there. No sad stories anymore but acknowledge the trying times, the hard times and no capacity times.

I hold myself through this time. I love myself along this path. I shine through even though another piece of me is dying, his memories are my memories. His loss is my loss. This last part of the journey has no words to describe. I’m still here. I’m making the best of the life I have.

I wrote the above during the week of 21st October 2024, I am now at 15 December 2024.

In the middle of all of this I joined an online event called ‘Alive’ by my friend Lois Tucker. She has since run a course called ‘Clarity’ which I knew I had to join as I was in the middle of grief.

My dad passed away on 26 November 2024, my sister and I were with him to see him leave peacefully. I was glad to be present and say goodbye in-person but it hurts and is one of the most difficult experiences to go through. I am now parentless, an “orphan” as a few described. Dad was buried on 28 November in accordance with his Muslim faith.

How am I? I’m not sure? I feel in limbo, I feel like I’ve grieved a lot already and I feel that I haven’t. I feel alright, I feel at peace knowing dad is at peace. I feel irritated, angry on occasions. I’m exhausted. I’ve gone back to work and welcome the distraction but could do with time off. I wish you could take paid leave for a month or so like maternity leave. My body has begun to untie itself and I can feel the aches and pains, I hadn’t before. I feel a slow decompression.

Everything has felt so surreal, in some ways I want to close my eyes and awake seeing my parents; having the chance to hug them again and tell them I love them. The transition from physical world to spiritual world is tough. I wanna hold my dad’s hand and tell him I love him and give him a cuddle. I want to feel the cool skin of my mum’s arm and tell her I love her and hold her close.

Some of my memories torture me like a time I came straight from work to the care home to see my dad before he had got into bed. I arrive just before 6pm and he called my name, Mya. Mya has always been mum and dad’s nickname for me, dad had the biggest smile on his face, I’d open the curtains and he was so happy to see me. We were talking away for the hour I was there and normally I take a photo of dad and me when I can, when he allows, allowed me to. I keep telling myself I should have captured that moment.
When I told my partner this recently, he said “if I had then I wouldn’t have been present to enjoy the moment in the way that I did”. He’s right. I had many moments with dad and feel so blessed I was able to.