A few thoughts.
I lost my mother to suicide when I was 6 years old, my father to multiple-organ failure when I was 19. I do consider that I was lucky to lose him at 19 as he had a major heart attack 4 years before, and we were warned by the Doctors at that time that he would most likely not make it through the night Ė he certainly did not want to give up that easily.
Although my mothers death occasionally upsets me, it is my fathers which has had the major impact on my life since. Nobody knows why mum did what she did, there was no note, no reason Ė one minute there, the next minute gone. Do I hate her for it, no; can and will I ever understand it....no.
My dads death deeply affected me, and it still troubles me today, although seeing as itís only been five years and I see comments on this forum from people who lost their loved ones many decades ago, it is evident that these emotions will stay with me forever. It was many years before I truly accepted his death. I was never sure whether I had, but when it finally hit me, wow, it was without question the toughest year of my life. Itís funny, I thought I had got over his death, but in reality I had been hiding from it the entire time, but you cannot hide forever, you cannot keep yourself distant from your emotions, one way or another, they will always come out.
Now that year has been and gone,I feel more at peace; but I still struggle with some aspects of his death. I hate having to talk about it, to be honest, I havenít spoke to someone about it for a long, long time now. I donít even like to mention it to my friends. I had a friend at University, and we were fairly good course mates, but I did not tell him about my parents deaths for over 2 years. Iím not sure why I find it so hard, I do not know if itís because I am ashamed, or maybe it is because it makes me feel very vulnerable and that is not the impression I like to put across. If people ask me a direct question about my parents I will normally tell them, but if I can get away from having to do that I will try. Maybe itís just the awkwardness of the whole conversation I hate.
Iím pretty good day to day with the whole thing. I accept the fact that this is the situation I, and my brother and sisters, are in, and the best I can do is to get on with life. But every now and again, anniversaries of deaths, special occasions, seeing the extended family (who live in another country), hearing stories about mum, or dad, or even completely random occasions, like today, where a deep sadness emerges that cannot be shaken, I find it very difficult, and I think I always will.
Just a few thoughts I had today that I felt like sharing.