Posts by Brenda Richardson33

Angela Wright said:My mother passed away peacefully this morning.
I want to thank everyone here for the support you've shown me during this incredibly difficult chapter of my life.
Love you all. May God bless you in your own struggles. Keep pushing forward.

My deepest condolences. 😢

Angela Wright said:I have those moments where my head and heart just feel completely void. I end up spiraling because I start thinking I’ve become this hollow shell without any real emotions or thoughts left... sometimes I feel totally numb even toward my boyfriend, who means everything to me. I suspect it's a defense mechanism—we just go through the motions mechanically, switching our emotions to standby mode. I suppose it's just part of the survival process after dealing with this trauma.

Hi everyone,

I’ve been lurking here for a while, reading without finding the words to contribute... but after reading Angela Wright's post, I felt compelled to speak up. I'm feeling the exact same way, and honestly, I thought I was losing my mind. My father passed away, and while I know it isn't easy, there are these sudden moments where I feel absolutely nothing at all. It makes me wonder if something is fundamentally wrong with me. I want to be able to cry out all the pain from this loss, but I just can't. Perhaps it really is a defense mechanism—or maybe it's the strength God gives us to be a Fighter.

Hi everyone.
More bad news... I haven't even fully processed my father's passing yet, and now my paternal grandmother has passed away too. I just can't seem to take this much loss in such a short window of time.
I know she was elderly and this is just the natural order of things, but it all feels far too much like a reminder of him.

My dear friends,

Thank you all so much for the supportive posts. I just wanted to say that my father was a true warrior; he fought a grueling illness for ten years and never once gave up. I will always remember him for his courage, his grit, and his sheer will to live. Unfortunately, the tumor was simply stronger than his resolve, and he lost his final battle. His funeral was beautiful and filled with the kind of dignity he deserved—so much so that I actually felt his presence there, as if he’ll be watching over us from now on, our guardian angel making sure no harm comes to us. I know he is still with us, and because of that, I don't fear anything. The pain is here and will likely remain for a long time, but I know it's better this way; he doesn't have to endure that horrific suffering anymore. It's a heavy thing, being fully aware of everything while being so incredibly ill...

My dear father has closed his eyes forever... he is gone...
For now, this is all I can manage to write. The pain tearing through me is simply too overwhelming to put anything else into words... such an intense, indescribable agony...🙂 😢 😳

Betty Allen65 said:dreamers......
I've already posted about this here.
Hope is a strange thing....it can be both a blessing and a curse.
When they were driving my Dearest to the hospital for the last time, clinically dead..... I was CERTAIN she would come home.

You can't just accept it like that, honey.
I certainly haven't.
Easter without my Dearest is, quite frankly, hell.

Don't be too hard on yourself....allow yourself to feel sad, angry, and furious.
Try, however, not to cry in front of him..... believe me, he would cry too if he could.
Try to coax out even a small smile.
Say something warm to him.
Steal a kiss...... I say steal because by the end, my Dearest was in so much pain that even the slightest touch was sensitive, so whenever I turned her or lifted her, I’d kiss her shoulder, her head, her foot..... something.

You'll eventually learn there are no guarantees in life and some things simply cannot be changed.
Cherish the love..... it's the only thing that stays with you and with him forever.

I am proud and happy to have been the mother of such a beautiful human being who touched so many people with their beauty, kindness, and charisma.

And you..... let yourself be overwhelmed by pride and remember those wonderful days spent with your dad.

And... one more thing... I hope I don't sound too blunt saying this, but..... I wish so much that IT had been ME who left before my Dearest did...... that is the natural order of things.
(If such an order even exists anymore.)

It is better when children bury their parents.

Wishing you strength and faith.😘

You aren't being too harsh... everything you wrote is the absolute truth... and what you're going through with your child is the exact same situation as with my dear dad... when we touch him, everything hurts, and even the gentlest touch is painful... I find myself hoping, too, but I'm also trying to make peace with the situation.

I only realize how much strength I actually have when the whole family shows up, and I don't cry; I just want to hear even two or three words from my daddy to brighten my day and, as you said, steal a smile from him.

And I don't cry... especially not in front of him; instead, I just want to enjoy the moment when he reaches for me with his weak hand.... but yeah, it's hard.

I always think of you and all the people who have had to endure the death of their own child, and it truly breaks my heart that you have to live through a pain that I believe is incomparable to anything else... so I wish you nothing but the best, and thank you so much for your words of support, even though you're the one who needs them. Hugs... and so on.😘

slyseal28 said:Sending you a hug, a hand to hold, strength, and nothing but positive thoughts!

Thank you, and I truly hope your Pigeon recovers soon...😘

p.s. I’m joining forces with you in the "battle" against the reporters...

Ethan Garcia said:Right now, there are three cancer patients in my house. My grandmother (70) is, unfortunately, in the worst possible state—completely immobile, in intense pain, and in her final stages. Back in January 2004, she ended up in the ER due to blood in her urine, and they found a kidney tumor. She had surgery, and three months later, they discovered metastases in her lungs. The doctor didn't recommend any specific therapy; she recovered remarkably well, and every CT scan showed the metastases were stable and hadn't grown. She had two and a half years of quality life—vacations and living normally. Then, last September, things took a sudden turn for the worse; the cancer spread to her bones and her spine. She spent months in critical condition, and three weeks ago, she was bedridden. Now she’s immobile, in agony, and we all know the end is near.

My grandfather (78) has been dealing with melanoma for several years now. It pops up in different spots—nose, forehead, upper arm, knee—and there just isn't a cure. His condition is worsening, though it isn't quite as dire as my grandmother's yet.

To make matters worse, their only daughter—my mother (50)—found out last year that she has cervical cancer. She went through radiation, chemotherapy, and then surgery. The initial results look okay, but as we all know with these kinds of illnesses, you can never be sure. The situation is grim; my sick mother is trying to care for her own ailing parents, and I’m helping as much as I can, though I honestly don't know where I find the strength. Over the last year, my life has turned into a living hell—I'm fighting a war against disease, and every night before I sleep, I dread what might happen to my family. You learn a lot from situations like this, but the grief and the disillusionment with life remain. And the worst part is the fear of what's coming next.

To everyone else living life one medical report at a time, waiting for news about their loved ones: I hope you find the courage to endure and manage to keep your sanity intact.
My respects to the heroes who have shared their tragedies with us, especially Angela Wright, who started this thread.

I know how it is, unfortunately. I suppose we just have to accept that this is life... a heavy cross we have to carry...😘

Happy Easter to everyone. I believe the only thing we all truly want is HEALTH AND PEACE IN OUR HEARTS, so that is what I wish for you most.

Yesterday was heavy. Today feels just as heavy. My dad was admitted to the hospital, and we were met with those devastating words from the doctors that so many families know too well: "Unfortunately, it’s reached the final stage, and you need to prepare for the worst..." It honestly feels surreal, like I'm watching a movie. You hear lines like that in cinema, not in real life. I spend my time scrolling through forums, reading about people facing situations far more harrowing than mine—especially when I read about parents dealing with their children's illnesses—and I try to tell myself that this is just part of the human condition. That we all face loss and carry our own crosses. But how? Can someone please explain to me how? How do you carry on without someone so close to you? How, and when, does anyone actually make peace with the fact that things had to turn out this way? I can't wrap my head around the reality of it... that he is actually leaving... I feel completely helpless. And what kills me most is that I don't even have the strength to be strong for him. I simply don't have it.😠

When I read Una’s story, my heart just sank. I have so much respect for you... and for everyone here showing this kind of strength. Thank you, Angela Wright, for those kind words of support. I consider myself a believer, but honestly, I feel like there’s nothing more we can do for my father. Because of the cancer in his bone that's pressing against his brain, he lost almost all of his sight and hearing in such a short window of time. Every single day seems to bring something worse; it’s progressing far too quickly. It’s hard to face such a brutal reality, and even harder to witness his pain. I suspect most of you feel exactly how I do—wishing you could just take the suffering away from those you love, but knowing it’s impossible. The hardest part is trying to imagine life without someone so dear to you...😢 The worst part is that fear that follows you through the days and the nights...

Angela Wright said:Look, there isn't anything I or anyone else here can say to strip away that sense of helplessness we all face at one point or another. What I can tell you—though you already know it—is that you have done everything humanly possible for your father. Let that feeling of powerlessness just sit with you for a while; it’s a completely natural reaction. Eventually, you'll accept it and find some peace with the situation. All that will remain is sadness and the void he leaves behind. But even that sadness eventually fades, leaving only the vivid, beautiful memories of the good times.
Even if you feel like you're hitting a breaking point right now, trust that there's a strength within you. You'll likely surprise yourself by how it surfaces just when you think you're about to crumble.
Don't lose hope for your father. You mentioned this is the third time, so perhaps this is his third stroke of luck. Sometimes the most trivial things end in tragedy, so why shouldn't the opposite be true? Life is nothing but constant fluctuations. Keep your chin up and hang in there.

Thank you. I'm hoping for better days too, even if it doesn't feel that way right now. I consider myself a fighter and an optimist, but it's hard when you watch things decline day after day, and the doctors tell you it's only going downhill... especially with the tumor being in the worst possible location... and well... it's just heavy right now. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

This is my first time on the forum, at least as a registered member, so I hope I can manage to get this out clearly. I’m posting because I find myself in a difficult situation as well—I'm part of the family that needs comfort and support right now, and I'm glad this topic was created, if that's how you call it 🙂. To start with, my father is very ill; this is the third time he's faced this, and this time things are looking truly grim. Ultimately, I just feel incredibly helpless and 😠 because I don't know where else to find the strength to process what's happening or how to help him, knowing that nothing I do will make a difference... Well, I'm not quite sure what I intended to say, but I am grateful there are people here willing to share their pain with others. Perhaps it will make things even a little easier for all of us...