So. My grandfather passed away Feburary of 2011. He was pretty much the only member in my family that really supported me and was there for me while growing up. I don't have a mom or a dad. My mother left me when I was around 5 and she's a drug addict. constantly in and out of jail. My dad is an alcoholic and highly abusive so neither of them are qualified parents to raise children.

I remember the first day Papa got sick. He brushed it off as just a cold but progressively things were getting worse. He went into the hospital. I woke up to a txt from my dad telling me to go visit Papa in the hospital. Floor three, room 211. and that it wasn't a request. Of course my mind was racing with the worse case scenario and I rushed down to the hospital. Once I hit the third floor my mind was going crazy. It was exactly like a scene out of a movie. Everything got deathly silent. The only sounds were the beepings of heart monitors, coughing, and the sounds of people crying. Every sound I heard seemed to echo in my head. I got lost along the third floor looking for his room so I stopped a nurse and by that point my voice was shaking. She helped me find the room and I hesitated before going in. A few deep breathes and I made my way into the room. When I saw him I couldn't believe my eyes. Papa had always been a strong person to me. He never showed any signs of weakness. He was always for lack of words like that person who could defeat absolutely everything. There he was sitting in a chair, in a gown. he was dripping with water from a rag on his forehead and sweat. he was shaking and his eyes were closed as if he'd fallen asleep right there in the chair. When his eyes opened and he saw me, he was so excited, like he never expected I would come visit him. I was fighting back tears the whole time and he knew it. He told me they mentioned he had heart failure and that he was insisting there was something else wrong, something with his stomach and they weren't listening. They were insisting it was his heart and nothing more. He told me how sick he was feeling and how much pain he was in. He knew being there was scaring the hell out of me, and he told me I didn't have to stay. He'd already sent my grandmother home that day because he was so sick and miserable; there had been no reason for her to be there. I wanted to stay longer with him so bad, but he was so tired and exausted. He told me thank you for coming, and that he loved me. I should have seen that as an early sign that this was the real end. Looking back on it now if I had realized it earlier I would have stayed reguardless of how he was feeling. That was the last time I would get the chance to speak to him; and I had no idea.

I got a call the next morning from my grandmother. She told me he had been transferred to another hospital about an hour away. They had infact found that he had heart failure and they had to place a stent inside of him. We were relieved to hear that he was going to be OK and discharged within a few days after the proceedure. Mama was preparing his favorite dinner for when he came home. When dad went to pick him up, papa refused to leave. He said there was something else wrong and he wasn't leaving until it was looked at. They ran more tests and found a mass on his stomach and when it was tested they found that it was infact cancer. His entire body was riddled with it.

Mama and her kids rushed down to the hospital to see him while I was left home alone in a snow storm and believe me I cried like you wouldn't believe. I felt like a little child again in a toy store being denied from getting that awesome expensive toy that you've always wanted for a whole 5 minutes. I kicked and screamed and begged and did something I haden't done since I was little; Prayed. I don't know who I was praying too. Anyone, begging for a miracle that honestly would never come.

A day later we recieved another phone call. Papa stopped breathing that night. They put him on machines to keep him alive.

The following day I woke up to a phone call at 5:30am from my dad. He told me he's picking me up in half hour, that we were going to the hospital. Papa wasn't going to make it. The car ride down was silent. Nobody knew what to say or how to even believe that something like this was happening. When we got to the ICU, I almost coudn't go in. I saw all the tubes and machines and and saw him in that condition, I wanted to run and hide. I didn't run. I pushed myself forward and sat down next to him. He was sedated and tied down because he kept pulling the tubes from his mouth. He was so out of it but the nurse told us he could hear and feel us. I held his hand and the tears just poured from my eyes in silence. My grandfather and I had an awkward relationship. Although he raised me and we loved each other dearly, I always felt embarrassed or never knew how to say " I love you " or give hugs and kisses. I felt I was too proud for that. He did everything for me while I was being selfish and a normal teenager/ young adult. He bought me anything I ever wanted, allowed me to sneak random animals into the house and didn't tell Mama when it was something he knew she wouldn't like. (My pet rats.) But there he was, laying in such a weak condition. My dad, my aunt and my uncle were all there along with their husband/wives. When my grandmother got there she imidiately went to his side and kissed his forehead and begged him not to go. This was the most heartbreaking thing I had ever experienced. Never had my family been so close to eachother than that moment right there. When the doctor came in, he went over everything in perfect detail, and was so honest and upfront. Mama finally asked him what she should do, What he would do if it was his father lying in that bed. He said very calmly, "Let him go in peace". Mama then looked to all of us for approval and then it was decided. We spent the day there, talking to him about events and things that happened in the past and we knew he was listening because he would occasionally nod/move his head, or his heart rate would increase a bit. My grandfather was very religeous so a priest was called in for the last rites. At the end of the day everyone kissed him goodbye and told them they loved him. I didn't want to let go of his hand. I was so scared in knowing that this was it. I woud never see him again after this. When I let go, I broke down. The car ride home was painful, and lonely. Nobody spoke. When I walked into the house my dog greeted me and I collapsed. I wanted nothing more then to be at Papa's side. to have this all have been one huge nightmare. Papa passed away on Feburary 3rd. They gave him a high dose of Morphine and slowly removed the tubes. My aunt stayed with him the whole time.

The wake and the funeral came soon after and nobody was prepared for it. My grandmother was a mess and everyone was so concerned for her. She would break down crying at random moments, and she'd beg to die. Things had gone from peaceful to chaotic in just a matter of 10 days. The funeral passed and a few weeks afterwards my grandmother trips and falls, breaking her ankle. I had been staying with her for a total of 4 weeks and more, helping out out and taking care of her. I stayed in her house, the house I grew up in, and the house that Mama and Papa lived in, and it was very painful to be there. Papa's death really hit me hard. I haven't honestly gotten a single good nights sleep since. All I can dream about is losing him, over and over and over again. I've tried talking about these issues with friends and the best thing for me to do is just deal with it and try to move on. I'm finding it harder and harder to keep up with it.

The summer of 2011, My grandmother sold the house. I was devastated. I felt that was the last remaining thing of my life with him that I had left, and it was all gone. Holidays that the entire family would get together, they were all gone now. Since this whole thing has happened the family fell apart and nobody even speaks to each other anymore. My grandmother moved to FL and hardly ever returns my phone calls. I wrote her letters and she never writes back. It's rather depressing, and the bad dreams of losing my grandfather never stop. For a while I was visiting his grave everyday, laying flowers, cleaning it up and then I realized it wasn't healthy, and wasn't helping me get over the fact he was gone. So I made a promise that I would only go back once or twice a month so I could take a breather and try not to think about it so much anymore, but even that doesn't seem like it's helping.

Sorry for that random mass of text. I really think this is the longest forum post I have ever made. I also apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes as it still makes me cry to think of all of this so everything may not be perfect. So now that all that is off my chest, How have you managed to deal with the loss of a loved one? It could be your family, your pets, friends, anything.

I lost my grandmother at the age 11. She was the real grandparent I had since my fathers side detested my mother so much and were rather crazy in a bad way. I loved her so much. She was a hard woman who was very very smart and sometimes hard to get along with but she was so wonderful and supportive of me.

She went to the dentist one day and they found an odd growth in her mouth.She had been smoking most all of her life so of course there was only one thing it could be. Cancer. My mother and brother took care of her. My mom and I moved into her house with her to watch her and take care of her. She was losing it quickly though and Chemo only made it worse.

They day we finally lost her was when My brother and I stayed up till five on spring break playing FFVII.Trying to have atleast some normality. My mother called that morning saying shed gone peacefully in her sleep. I was torn.

Honestly I don't think I ever really healed completely because sometimes even now I don't think of her as being dead. It is hard to cope with and still stings to see a picture of her. I just think we find ways to cope with it. May it be pushing it to the back of our minds or just remembering the good things.

But every now and then I think of her and smile. My Mom-o the one who could make even a sailor blush.

This is such a cliche phrase, but one that has been around forever for a reason: "time heals all wounds."

Now, this isn't to say that you'll ever forget, or ever stop feeling the pain, but some day you WILL be able to handle this loss, and these feelings, and these thoughts. Until then, you've got to live day by day, and take things as they come. Don't worry that this will never end, because it will, and your job isn't to worry about the future, it's to live in the present.

I completely understand what it is to have your family fall apart when the rock of your family dies. Over the course of the last year we had three people in my family die, and one of them was my grandma, who was the only reason any of us ever talked to other members in the family.

My little family is now very estranged from the rest of the family that only talked to us because of my grandma. I think everyone is just waiting to see what'll happen, and to see if we can still subsist without her. I imagine one day we will, but till then it'll be tough. Your family will figure it all out, just like mine will.

My grandma was also like a mother to me, so I can feel your pain. She is buried in a cemetery over 800 miles away from me, and it is impossible for me to visit there...if I ever do again in my life. So...stuck in that circumstance...something that has helped me immensely is that I made an altar to her in a small corner of my house. When I'm sad I light a candle there for her. It is full of her possessions, and things that remind me of her...things she loved. Perhaps if you made an altar to your grandfather, it would be easier on you to light a candle there every day, or spend time there every day, than worry about going to a cemetery (which as you thought, is definitely not good for you and your healing process).

I hope I've helped some.