Losing Pop

My personal journey through grief....

5/13/2016
At 6 a.m. yesterday, Thursday, my father, Richard Shelden, died. I had the privilege and honor to be with him. After a decade long struggle with the disastrous thief, Alzheimer's Disease, 3 years in a nursing home and 24 hours of trying to die he is finally at peace and rest. He was the best man he could be. A loving and beloved husband; a strict, gentle, funny, supportive father; my rock, steadfast guidance, and spiritually connected best friend. My heart is twisted and torn but I am wrapped in his lifelong blessings and comforted to know that his suffering is over. May you be at rest and peace, Pop. Love never dies. You have taken mine with you. And, I will wear and hold onto yours always. - your Trish

5/20/2016
My father died the end of last week. It still hasn't fully hit me as I have spent so much time taking care of business for my mother and will for a long time. Her and my financial situations leave her with few choices for the future and none of them are great.

When I can feel I move between missing him painfully and being thankful that Alzheimer's is no longer stealing him and his life day by day. It was a hard, frightening death so that lingers with me still. Alzheimer's was not going to release it's grip on him easily so his dying was not what I would wish on anyone.

However, on Monday my beloved and loving husband, Daniel, conducted my father's Memorial Service at the Nursing Home where Pop spent his last three years. Daniel said that since I did both his sister's and father's services that he owed me. He didn't, of course, but we agreed that he would do it anyway.

It was not the kind of Memorial Service Daniel usually does. Or maybe that was just me. But it seemed more personal and intimate. More directly connected to the grief and loss since he also loved and was adored by my father. More tender. I could not look but I do not think there was one dry eye in the room. It was such a loving goodbye. Daniel also used a reading I wrote for Memorial Services and used other readings we both usually use. I was surprised by how comforting it was to recite words with him. Perhaps that came from my Catholic roots and communal praying.

We still have Pop's ashes to collect and decide where and how to release them. Pop never cared what we did with his remains so it is upon us to find a meaningful spot. I know that will be the final, official goodbye. But I keep returning to the service my good husband conducted Monday and I am so thankful for his gracious goodbye. Pop would have loved it.

6/8/2016
Tomorrow at 6 a.m. it will be four weeks since my father died. It does not seem possible. Then again, it does not seem possible that he spent three years in a Nursing Home losing more of himself each day and, in the end, literally withering away from Alzheimer's Disease and his own diminished will to live.

At first, I was so haunted by how horrible his death was that I could not think of anything else, not get those images and sounds out of my mind. Thankfully, they are beginning to fade. I hope that is what happens when you love and like someone as much as I did my father and when you are as connected to someone as he and I were. I have so many big and tiny memories that are filled with love and appreciation. I hope that as time goes on I will continue to think of him in those images and ideas, not what the last three years brought. Although, even in those times we had some wonderful and important moments I will always hold onto tightly.

I have visited the Nursing Home in which he lived for those three years, picked up his ashes and death certificates, cried, laughed, longed to be wrapped in his strong, protective arms and simply missed him. All these things I was supposed to do and all the things I have done and will do in the aftermath of his death have kept me focused on his death and our Loss. I miss my lifelong, steadfast support and friend. I love/d him so much. I am relieved that the "business" of his death is now behind me so I can focus on his life.

I cannot thank you- Family, Friends, Congregants, Colleagues...who have reached out with cards and emails sending Love, Love, Love and sympathy and compassion. Please know that every single gesture meant the world to me and that I do not have the words to thank you all properly or individually. But, do hold on to the fact that you made a difference.

Now when I pull weeds and plant in the garden I think of his life and the part of it that I shared and how I knew him. I want to make sure I tell the next generation enough for them to remember him in some of the ways only I can tell them about. Rest well, Pop. We both know that Love never dies. I hold on to yours. May mine be with you still, and always. - Trish