|I witnessed my father’s death first hand. I was the one who discovered, accompanied him in the ambulance to medical center, received the confirmation of his death, accompanied his body for 5 hours from mountain to Taichung, prepared his funeral in a foreign land.
In that brief time between his actual death and the arrival and work of the paramedics, my life spun out of control.
My father’s death entails grief, heartache, pain and sorrow. Questions of why and doubts cross the mind since then. Even when the situation was one that was unpreventable, the doubts and questions always linger.
I understand that grief has different stages. They include: anger, denial, depression and acceptance. In the death of my father, my phase of denial occurred immediately at his death. I didn’t want to accept or believe and I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t happening. It was so hard to believe that a man who looked fit could be lifeless the next moment.
It is almost 3 weeks since my father’s death and I accept that this loss is real and that no matter what I did, there was nothing I could have done more to save him that evening.
At first, I thought that I coped well. But yesterday’s incident I feel that I am not as strong as what I thought. My mother would call me every now and then, cried and told me how quiet it is to stay at home. She feels lonely. I am heart-broken each time I hear her saying this.
Pain can grab us and hold on so tightly that it feels like it is crushing us completely. Letting go of the pain is a scary thought. I was afraid that if I let go of the pain and agony of my dad’s death, that it would seem that I didn’t love him so much.
Holidays, gathering, and events that occur where he would have had a special role, are all more difficult than the day to day. It is hard to not stop thinking that Dad would have been present at these events.
As days gone by, sadness creeps in quietly.
Life will never be the same again.