Does time heal the pain of losing a loved one ?

I lost my best friend 3 years ago this May on Mother's Day.

I'm not sure if heal is the right word to use. It could be the only substitute for now until a better word can be found.

On some days, I feel betrayed by my friend dying and leaving me mostly alone in New York City. On other days, I deeply regret that maybe if I tried harder to connect with her, she could have prepared me emotionally better for the toughest days without her. She was a much wiser person than I could ever be.

I'm not sure if I would want to be totally healed from this wound of omission. It seems that total recovery from such a loss would entail forgetting too much about that person including any lessons they have taught you (being the unwanted side effects of the healing process).

Im really sorry for you're loss it's always harder when gets closer to the day they had passed...yeah you're right the word heal doesn't cover **** :\

No matter how much time you are told beforehand or whatever, know one is prepared for death especially when it is someone you are incredibly close2...Im sure you did all you could have done, don't be so hard on yourself, and you sound like a true and amazing friend that im sure she valued...and i think its normal for people to feel a sense of betrayal when someone that close passes away, but New York alone? gosh yeah that would have been tough :\
obviously she was since you two are best friend, im sure you both are very wise

I understand where you're coming, i2 feel the same but everyone is different...i mean in my room i have photos and always with her family...honestly i still cry for my friend when im alone lol everyone is different hon so you do what you feel is right

Yes, I'm happy to say that for me it has. I lost my Dad two years ago on February 4th. It was rather sudden and unexpected. I had just seen him on New Year's Eve and had thought to myself that he looked so good and healthy that I expected him to live at least another ten years. One month later, exactly, as a matter of fact, on January 31 my sister called to tell me that his aorta had dissected (split) and could not be repaired. It might be a matter of 24 hours or it might be two weeks, but he would certainly die from this.

I got on a plane and made it in time to see him awake and aware and actually very calm. My prayer all the way over the Atlantic was that I didn't want him to be afraid or in pain. He seemed to be feeling neither, although he was the sort of person who would have not wanted to upset any of us and would pretend everything was ok - he was forever 'the father' - caretaker - responsible and strong one - in every sense of the word.

We had time to talk and I read him a letter I'd written him on the plane. I told him how much he had always meant to me and how much I loved, respected and admired him. I also told him how much I had enjoyed having him in my life, not only as a father, but as a friend and someone with whom I always enjoyed talking and doing things. We were very different but also alot alike. We both loved to read and write, travel, learn new things, garden, listen to music, sing, experience nature and the outdoors.

In so many ways, he made me who I became by exposing me to so many wonderful things and encouraging my interests and gifts. More than anyone in my life, he was the person who gave me what I needed to make my dreams come true.
He always believed in me.

The first year was incredibly hard, because I just couldn't get my head around the fact that he could be gone. I kept asking, sometimes out loud, 'Where are you? You should be here.'
I'd never experienced a minute of my life before without knowing he was there for me should I ever need him.
It was so hard for me to accept that his vital and strong energy could just dissipate and disappear.

Slowly, and without even really realizing it, I came to accept that it had been time for him to move on - and that maybe it was for the best.
He'd always been very tall, big, athletic and strong and as he got older and his knees and heart were giving out, he had grown quieter and more thoughtful - in some ways I don't think he could accept that he wouldn't be able to do all the things he'd always loved to do.
When we bathed his body after he died (my sister and mother were nurses and they allowed us to bathe his body) I was struck by what a hard battle he'd fought and how his body was bruised and scarred and diminished.

He had never let any of his children see the physical tolls that his heart problems and all the hospitalizations were taking on him. He just kept going on like he'd always done, ignoring the pain and weakness that had been slowly becoming the reality for him..

Now, two years later, I miss him less because I feel him all around me. I feel him with me when I look at the moon and the sun and the beauty of nature around me. I even hear his voice in certain songs.

I'm sorry for your loss.

awww i am so sorry for you're loss2...i hate it how it can be so unexpected :\ but im just happy you got to see him before he passed...i know how to it feels to lose a parent and you never get to say bye because you're not in the same country or state sad ****...You're father sounds like a very strong man who was an amazing father and role model...for him to pretend like everything was ok for you're families benefit just shows how much he loved you all ="(
Yip first year is a serious bitch, and before you know it, its the end of the year and the loss still feels like it they left yesterday...Oh god you cleaned him after =""( that's so heartbreaking, i never did that with my friend but for my grandmother i did ...it kills you a bit to see the life gone out of them, but yes you're father sounds like an amazing man and i am so sure he is with you...people have their theories and i admit i have little faith in religion but i do believe with loved ones that they still come back to visit you, especially when you are most upset and you miss them so much...in my culture we arnt allowed to cry for the dead because we believe it will disturb them and they will of cours come see you because they love you...so if you say you hear his voice in certain songs then i totally believe you that it is him

Those we have lost are always with us, and we can only hope that in some way, we are always with them...

I think it is the Tahitians who believe that everything you have lost in your life time is kept in a room you can only visit when you dream... My room is loaded...

"Chi dara fine al gran dolore?
L’ore."

Translation:
Who will put an end to this great sadness? The hours passing.

~Mark Z. Danielewski - House of Leaves

Hope is not fact...

I can somehow relate to what you have said, I've never cried until my grandfather died, as we buried him in the sands I awaited until all the people got out of the grave yard and went by his grave, I've put my hand on his grave and remembered the way he talked to me and how he was reciting long poems about hunting, honor, and desert life, and suddenly "without me having any control over it" I started to cry. he was was one of those men who were abode by the "unwritten honor code of men". Though it's deeply wrong not to accept death or even embrace it as a part of life in my faith, yet I always feel sad when I know that I lost my great father.

I guess there is nothing that represents the "ultimate happiness" in this life, it's full of losses, things that fade away, and pain. A person who goes through a serious loss needs to develop a strong sense of acceptance.

my condolences to you.

My wife died in July 2004 leaving me with two small children to look after on my own. It gets better, but I still think about her every day. Time does heal the pain, but not completely.

fido, fido, fido....you really haven't a clue.

I was offering something beautiful to the OP.



Mrs. V, that quote was something I read that seemed to help me more because it wasn't in my language.
The Delore, then l'ore was meant to be an echo.

It reminded me that memories are echos, coming from the original experiences.

Fido goes off on tangest all the time. On another thread, an EFL student asked about the meaning of a word in a passage about feelings on going to boarding school as a child. Fido started banging on about Achilles. I'm sure that he just posts whatever he wants to, regardless of what the thread is about.

Ask the mother who has lost her child... The shock may go away; but the pain never does...

There is a lot of rubbish printed and sold... Why should I care unless it seem so contrary to art, so unartistic if you will, so confessional that you have to ask if you can go puke now...

These are trying times, and they are not going to get any better without courage.. If I have to pick a team I want people on my side who are not cry baby whiney tits... And art should be brave, and it does not have to be all introspective to be brave... We all have drama in our lives... God knows we have enough of pain... But to quote a poet talking about the time before Ben Johnson imperfectly, when plot was intrigue and intrigue plot does not say enough... People must be the heroes of their own lives to say they have lived, and how few they are...

You could bury a hero and most of your so called artists in the same hole, and all you can ever say is that one lived, and the other only whined about it... Have you ever once in your life dared death??? Have you ever spit into the eyes of God and then stood out on a stormy plane and dared lightning to strike you dead... What if every arrow we shoot at our creator hits human kind??? Don't you hate at times the one that made your life possible, and gave you only so much as would make you crave more??? I don't think you get art; and I don't think you get life... No artist ever played it safe... Like Achilles said when his Mother warned him that his death would follow his vengeance upon his enemy: Prepare me for my fate... Have you ever accepted long odds or certain death with your life in the balance... And if so; did you weep, or shiver??? If you haven't got the nerve, then don't cry about people who do... We all pay the same price for the lives we have... As hard as it is to morne our loss of those we love, how can it compare to the loss of life, and yet to bear that loss with cheer....

:)you know some of my traditions...well you're dreams must be pleasant yeah i kind of wish i didn't type this now since i'm reading others post and getting teary lol loser much haha thanks for the message seems like you are debating? err i don't exactly know why...Achilles??? hahaha

Thank you so very much, it's beautiful Don't feel that you have to explain why you posted it, i understood and thank you

Fido is a bit of a heel.

im very sorry for you're loss...aww two children :\ im sure you give them more then enough love then what two parents could even give....i don't think there will be a day you wouldn't...especially when you look at you're children, but i firmly believe and maybe this isn't for some...but it does help a bit when you are around children. They are so full of life and still looking at the world through innocent eyes also they need a lot of attention lol but the most simplest thing they can do brings them such joy that it makes you kind of channel a bit of that happiness...well im sure you are a wonderful father but yeah i think children have a way with helping you a long the way thank you for the comment.

One of them isn't a child any more. They do help focus one's mind though.

i am so sorry for the loss of you're grandfather...no one knows how they will experience losing someone they cherish dearly until it happens, but everyone is different...yip we all know death is inevitable but i think a lot of us always believe that our loved one's have time left and this stuff only happens to other families...but yeah it is hard when someone leaves...I think most people are prepared for dying because we know of this from an early age but when it happens to someone you love before you, now that is what we don't really prepare ourselfs for...geez i hope i make ssense lol but thank you for the comment and i am sure you're grandfather was an remarkable man