Seems like there would be a lot more for something that impacts our life so much, but no, there are only five stages.
When my father passed away (2 years in December) I started with denial, skipped anger (that came later), and went straight to bargaining.
I prayed...I BEGGED...and I bargained with God to save my father.
As the days we spent in the ICU turned to weeks, and my fathers pain increased, we knew that he was only going to be with us a little while longer.
I knew what was coming,That he was dying, and that it was what was best for him, but I never accepted that I knew that!
It felt so wrong to say "hes going to a better place" or "I know its his time".
It felt like I was giving up on him, no longer praying for his healing, but that God would ease his pain and take him gently to the other side.
I felt like I was abandoning him.
Not that he was alone, my father was surrounded by those he loved, but that we were now waiting for him to pass, instead of encouraging him to fight, to live for us.
We were telling him it was OK to let go, to be at peace....and I think that is when my anger surfaced. I really wasn't angry at those around me, I was angry at myself. I wanted to grab my father and tell him to fight, not because he could, but because selfishly, I wanted him to stay here with us.
I wanted (still want) to see him, to pick up the phone and call him, to hear his laughter fill the room and see his face and ears turn bright red, because something we said had cracked him up.
I wanted him to be at our daughter's birthdays, to hug her and call her "Liver juices", I wanted her to grow up knowing him the way I had.
I wanted my daddy to always be here. Nothing will ever change that. I still pick up the phone to call him, only to be punched in the gut with that overwhelming feeling of grief.
I was told not to be angry, but to be honest, with out my anger I wouldn't have been able to process some of my grief.
It allowed me me to process the feelings I had about "leaving" or "abandoning" my father.
It allowed me to work through the fact that It wasn't my fault that he passed, nothing I could have said or done, would have "made" him stay.
It was his time, and letting him go peacefully, was what was best for him. He never wanted to be hooked up to machines, He wanted to be surrounded by his family and loved right up to the end, and that is what he had.
He was ready, Ready to go home, to receive his reward, and after almost 2 years, I have finally accepted that.
I still miss him everyday.
I still cry myself to sleep.
I still want to call him and ask "what are you up to" and hear "oh, about six foot"(lol every time).
I still want just one more hug from him.
I still love him.
That will never change....but I have learned to cope, to not be angry, and above all to trust that this was Gods will, and his will is perfect.
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