My mom had a particularly traumatic death, and it was also traumatic for me because I was taking care of her for the last 4 days of her life, her being in severe pain, which her doctors said was due to a hernia. She was vomiting uncontrollably for weeks, she cried out constantly for the pain to end. She went to the hospital on her last night, late at night while I slept (we lived in the same apartment complex which made it easier for me to care for her), and the next day my little brother called to let me know she'd died being prepped for emergency surgery on a twisted bowel. I lost it; crumpled to the floor, hysterical. My daughters, both under 6 at the time, immediately came in with their blankets, stuffed animals, and books. They covered me up, gave me the stuffies to cuddle, and read to me. They didn't even know what happened, but they burst into action, and it caught me off guard. I hope someday they can understand how much it meant to me.
When I got the call that my Dad had unexpectedly passed away I stumbled to the wall in shock and just kept repeating no. My teenage adoptive daughter heard me and came out to check on me. She had experienced the death of her father as an older child. As I stood there receiving the worst news of my life she asks me what's wrong. I couldn't even get the words out - my Dad died - and she was right there with her arms around me telling me I was going to be ok. It makes one of the worst moments of my life even sadder in a profoundly beautiful way.
MRbigdick143 on August 1st, 2020 at 02:26 UTC »
Everyone needs and emergency hug, they just don't know it.
WolvesHaveNoKings23 on August 1st, 2020 at 04:13 UTC »
My mom had a particularly traumatic death, and it was also traumatic for me because I was taking care of her for the last 4 days of her life, her being in severe pain, which her doctors said was due to a hernia. She was vomiting uncontrollably for weeks, she cried out constantly for the pain to end. She went to the hospital on her last night, late at night while I slept (we lived in the same apartment complex which made it easier for me to care for her), and the next day my little brother called to let me know she'd died being prepped for emergency surgery on a twisted bowel. I lost it; crumpled to the floor, hysterical. My daughters, both under 6 at the time, immediately came in with their blankets, stuffed animals, and books. They covered me up, gave me the stuffies to cuddle, and read to me. They didn't even know what happened, but they burst into action, and it caught me off guard. I hope someday they can understand how much it meant to me.
*Edited for grammar
initfor on August 1st, 2020 at 04:45 UTC »
When I got the call that my Dad had unexpectedly passed away I stumbled to the wall in shock and just kept repeating no. My teenage adoptive daughter heard me and came out to check on me. She had experienced the death of her father as an older child. As I stood there receiving the worst news of my life she asks me what's wrong. I couldn't even get the words out - my Dad died - and she was right there with her arms around me telling me I was going to be ok. It makes one of the worst moments of my life even sadder in a profoundly beautiful way.