Grief... and Depression

From the book On Grief and Grieving,"Empty feelings present themselves, and grief enters our lives on a deeper level, deeper than we ever imagined. This depressive stage feels as though it will last forever. It's important to understand that this depression is not a sign of mental illness. It is the appropriate response to a great loss. we withdraw from life, left in a fog of intense sadness, wondering, perhaps, if there is any point in going on alone. Why go on at all? Morning comes, but you don't care. A voice in your head says it is time to get out of bed, but you have no desire to do so. You may not even have a reason. Life feels pointless. To get out of bed may as well be climbing a mountain. You feel heavy and being upright takes something from you that you just don't have to give"
This is how I have been living for the past 8 months. The book says, "Invite your depression to pull up a chair with you in front of the fire, and sit with it, without looking for a way to escape. Allow the sadness and emptiness to cleanse you and help you explore your loss in its entirety. When you allow yourself to experience depression, it will leave as soon as it has served its purpose in your loss. As you grow stronger, it may return from time to time, but that is how grief works."

I can say, confidently, that depression has been about the only stage of grief that I've been feeling for 8 months. The five stages of grief include: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I believe I felt more denial leading up to him passing than I've felt since he's actually passed. Of course I have my moments- there were times in the beginning, it felt like he was still at the hospital. He'd been a frequent flier through the doors of Lutheran Hospital for so long- it just felt like he was there and we were going to visit him there. Then, days passed, and I began to feel like it was all just a nasty dream I can't force myself awake from. So I can say that for the most part, I know he's gone. Anger comes and goes. I'm angry that my mom is alone. I'm angry that other people get to continue making memories with their fathers. I get angry when we are forced to do things that we've never had to deal with before- like taking my car to be serviced without any guidance from my Dad. That was a hard trip- and I did more crying at Andy Mohr than I'd care to admit. Mom had to have a tree pulled from the yard because the roots were out of control. I got angry that she had to deal with that. I get angry that she has to make hard decisions without talking to Dad- the sale of his boat, his car, his posessions- all the fishing gear and tools- things that were so important to him. We want to pass on his legacy to those who knew him- so they can remember him doing some of the things he loved- but unfortunately, some people don't understand that intent. They don't take his possessions as treasured items from our loved one that is gone- they only see a boat, or a fishing pole, or a hammer. This makes us angry. And yes, I feel a lot of my anger is more frustration from depression than it is true anger- but some of it is real anger. It's just not fair.
 Bargaining- I did that a lot before he was gone- "please just let him see me graduate." I said that a lot. I prayed hard for that. Of course, now- I feel like I should have prayed harder for other things- less selfish things. "Please let him not suffer." "Please let him go peacefully." "Please let him know how much he is loved and that he is not alone."
I think I'm years away from accepting that he's gone. Maybe one day, the depression will leave my body and I will feel at peace- but for now, I cry. I cry almost every day. I cry when I hear a song that he loved- and there are lots of songs that he loved. I cry when I see something that reminds me of him. I cry when I think of something that he did or something that we shared. I cry when I see pictures of him. I cry at Mom's house when I walk past his dresser and can still smell the lingering combination of bay rum and peppermint. I cry when I think that I'm forgetting his voice or his laugh. I cry when I see his handwriting- I loved his handwriting. I cry when I'm laughing- because I think about the fun I'm having- and because he isn't here- then I get sad. I cry sometimes at work- and a lot of times when I'm leaving work- because I can see that a family is hurting for their loved one or I can see their loved one fighting for their life. I cry because I know the pain they will feel and how much they will hurt. I cry when a patient is suddenly better and healed because they will leave the hospital- but my dad didn't get to leave the hospital. I get a lump in my throat when people ask me about organ donations and how transplants are done- because my Dad was an organ donor. I feel that lump again when I hear that someone was a recipient of a cornea or sclera transplant because I wonder if I'm looking at my Dad's eyes when I'm looking at them.
So much of this grief- how can I be truly living my life? I feel as though I'm disappointing him because I'm so sad. He was so happy. He loved living life. He loved helping people and saving lives. He loved talking to strangers and he had the best stories from all of his adventures. I'm only sad because I miss him so much. I hope there isn't disappointment or sadness where he is. I can almost feel him pushing me into every new day- as if to tell me "today it will get a little easier because I'm here with you."