Day 5 When I was 13, the grandfather who raised me passed away

When I was 13, the grandfather who raised me passed away. It was completely unexpected—he died of a heart attack in his sleep. And the night before he died, I had a big fight with him. I don’t remember the reason. It was probably something trivial and foolish.

I woke up early that morning to the sound of voices. I heard my mother outside my door say, “He’s not breathing.” I instantly knew something terrible had happened. I wanted to see him one last time, but I didn’t have the courage to step outside. I should’ve opened the door. Instead, I stood there, frozen, for about an hour. Eventually, my grandmother opened my door and we faced each other. I still remember the confusion and guilt I felt in that moment.

I wasn’t even able to attend the funeral properly. My family said I was too young to go to the cremation site (in my country, cremation is the norm). So, from my perspective, my grandfather was just suddenly gone. I never had a proper chance to mourn, and for over a decade, I secretly clung to the fantasy that maybe he would come back one day.

And now, there’s my grandmother, who is still alive and living with me—she makes me feel love, sorrow, and anger all at once. I’m always confused when I’m around her. She was a victim of severe hardship in her marriage, had a hysterectomy, and suffers from various chronic illnesses. She constantly says, “I just want to die. Living is too painful. I don’t know why I’m still alive.” She says this almost daily. Complaining about pain is as natural for her as breathing.

Seeing her like that fills me with compassion and love, but at the same time, I just want to scream, “Please stop! I’m in so much pain too!” I want to get angry, I want to tell her to stop talking about such depressing things, but if we fight and something happens to her, I feel like she might die—just like my grandfather did. So, I keep everything inside. I act and speak like a good granddaughter. But this is such a painful role to play that I’ve even gone to expensive therapy for it in recent years. And yet, I’ve come to realize that none of it will truly end until my grandmother passes away. Still, that doesn’t mean I really want her to die. I’m just confused—and guilty.

And another thing—when my grandmother dies, I’ll be left alone in this house. My parents live on a different floor due to circumstances, and it’s hard to combine households. I’ve lived in this house since I was born, and it’s filled with memories of my grandparents. The idea of being left alone here terrifies me.

I wish time could just stop. I wish no one in my family would grow old, get sick, or die. Maybe I’ve poured out all of my emotions now? It’s painful to even think about all of this.

 

I'm so sorry for your loss. My mother died at 13. It seems that several of us on this forum suffer from unprocessed grief over a loss of a parent or parent figure.

 

Thank you for your condolences. Yes, I’ve also looked up similar stories, and they brought me comfort. I send my condolences to you as well.

 

Thank you. That part really touched me. I guess my brain still thinks I’m a helpless little child who can’t do anything! Self-compassion is such an important part of this. It’s not easy with my TMS personality, but I’m trying to understand myself better while reading Feeling Good.

 

This book has changed my life! it really can help you feel better! I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. ❤️