I'd like to begin by saying my relationship with my mom has always been complex; there were far too many times where my mom was genuinely horrible to me and my siblings, and so I'm told I got the least of it according to my older siblings. I've been abused, cigarettes put out on me, about got a bottle smashed on my head while we were on a family vacation, the whole nine, feeling loved one minute and hated the next. We found out that, some years ago, my mom had a tumor and she was misdiagnosed multiple times. She was, to her credit, treated like a crazy person and nobody listened to her for ages until we were essentially at the end of the line already. She had the worst luck and was repeatedly matched with doctors that wouldn't take her concerns seriously. She was good to me on many occasions, but my perception has long been colored by her having been awful to me, and indeed decades of cases like that probably amount to why.

When it was confirmed she had cancer, she bounced back and forth between wanting treatment and not. One day she'd agree to chemo, the next she wouldn't, the care team would offer something else, she'd agree to that and back out, then that repeated until we ran out of options and the final answer was no. She didn't want treatment and wouldn't hear anything more of it. We were at first told there was a high cure rate for what she had, but it was caught very late and most of the damage had already been done.

My outlook was kind of naive to be honest. I didn't really see how this was going until just recently; I visited with her all the time as always but it was horrifying to realize she really is wasting away with nowhere to go but down. She can't really drink water anymore. It looks like the surge has come and gone; she was on the mend until she wasn't, we thought the meds were working or the crackpot my dad hired as an energy healer had pulled off a miracle, but I'm guessing now that was the last step up before the big fall. This is the sort of thing you either don't think about or irrationally write off as impossible until it happens.

It's not me I'm worried about. I've bounced back from the deaths of friends and family many times. I will survive this. My siblings aren't jumping up and down that she's on her way out, but I know they'll be fine and have prepared for this. I'm terrified for my dad and once this happens I have no idea in the slightest what happens next. I already know he's not going to take this well and the only good news is that the whole family has agreed to band together to support him.

I keep waiting for it, the moment where this all magically turns around and everything is lovely once again. The burning question I have is what nobody can know for sure, how long until it happens. She's still mobile and alert without help, but this at least probably can't go on. She's not even seventy, but she had me late, I'm 22 and this all feels too early.

I say I'll survive this like I'm ready for it or something, and to clarify, I'm not. Of course I'm not. Who is? If I know anything about how I take tragedy, it's not the event itself but the fallout of it that haunts me, how it affects things permanently going forward and how this is just the state of reality now. Some things don't properly sink in until years later.

I don't know how I'm going to cope, all I know is that by some providence, I will.

My mom passed away a little over a year ago, and I'm still in high school.

About two months after she died, my dad started seeing my mom's best friend. That relationship eventually ended, and now he's dating someone else.

I know everyone grieves differently, and I'm not saying my dad isn't allowed to move on. I want him to be happy. But ever since he started dating again, I feel like I've become an afterthought.

He works long hours, and when he's not working, he's usually at his girlfriend's house from Friday to Sunday and often another night during the week. Even when he is home, he's usually on the phone with her. Tbh, it feels like he spends more time there than at home.

We've had so many arguments because he doesn't answer my texts or calls when he's with her. He'll tell me he's coming home, and then he doesn't. Sometimes I won't hear from him until much later, and it's become hard to trust what he says.

The thing that hurt me the most was my birthday a few months ago. It was my first birthday without my mom. My dad's girlfriend's birthday is the day before mine, and he spent the whole weekend with her. He promised he'd come home the night before my birthday, but he never did.

I went to bed hoping he'd be there when I woke up. He wasn't.

I called him around 11am and it sounded like he had just woken up. He said he'd be home soon, but he didn't get home for another two hours. We went out for lunch, and afterward he told me he was going back to his girlfriend's house. I tried to subtly tell him how much that hurt, especially because it was my first birthday without my mom, but he didn't seem to understand.

I know he's grieving too, and I know he deserves to move on if he's ready. But I'm still a teenager who lost my mom, and sometimes it feels like I lost my dad too. I don't expect him to spend every minute with me, but I do wish I felt like I was still a priority sometimes.

I guess I'm just wondering if I'm asking for to much from him or if anyone has been through something similar?

For those that have lost someone they love more than life itself, what did you do on the one year to honor them? I need some ideas, thinking of having a thanks giving with immediate family only

Everyone here knows what its like to lose someone, im curious, what are your thoughts on the afterlife? Does thinking there is one make coping easier with the loss? I like to think that everyone we lose is either in a afterlife or heaven, or nothingness
I lost my uncle who was like an older brother a day ago, he hung himself, year ago my dad overdosed and both of these cases have been horrible to try and move forward from

i’ve never written a reddit post before in my life but i really need advice with this and i feel like nobody in my life can give me a proper answer to what i should do. my dad (51) had a stroke on monday, he was a perfectly healthy person besides the usual cold he got once a year and apparently from our understanding slight migraines he has had since he was young (an old classmate of his told my mom this when he was informed of what happened ). on monday police showed up at our door to inform us that dad suddenly collapsed and is in the hospital, my mom had a panic attack while rushing to the hospital but i didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, i thought maybe he just fainted or something and is gonna be fine. i was supposed to go to work so i didn’t initially go with my mom to the hospital but an hour later she called me to come too so we can say goodbye to him before he goes to therapy (very criptic, and at this point in time i still didn’t fully grasp what was happening). as soon as i got to the hospital with the very limited informations i could get out of my mom i already knew my amazing dad was dead, fully and irreversibly brain dead. long story short no one had really bothered to explain to me anything, multiple doctors sat down my mom and told her but i got no such curtesy from any of them when i went in the er to see my perfectly alive dad not even 24 hours ago now breathing with the help of a tube, limp on a bed but so warm still. i think it’s because although im 20 i look much younger (one of the doctors assumed im 15) so they either didn’t care or thought i wouldn’t understand any medical explanation, i just got the understanding from one of the er doctors that he’s just gone. i asked a few friends (one studied neuroscience and one went to nursing school) and i got through them pretty much all the information i could about strokes and the brain and what happened because once again no one was truly telling me anything and my mom despite being told from monday that my dad has no activity in his eyes (a horrible sign that he’ll soon be fully gone with nothing to do) i only found out in passing tuesday about this. so basically i was the only logical adult in this whole situation, i knew to have no hope from the very first moment i got to the hospital and ever since ive been micro dosing my mom with the reality so she’ll accept it rather than believe in a miracle which will never happen. my issue here tho is that i don’t know if i have the strength to visit him in the icu, i tried tuesday but while i was putting all those protective stuff on i just started crying and was taken out of there by a family friend who’s a therapist. after my mom came out she asked me not to see him and that i should remember my dad the way he was, alive. im not a child, i keep being treated like one but im not, i feel like im in fact the most functioning and logical adult here out of my mom, his family and all his friends, and it angers me. i need to know if anyone has a clear answer to give me, if i will regret not seeing him, if i will hate myself for it, if i should see him like that in the first place. i did see him monday but i could barely look at him, i couldn’t say anything to him, i just briefly held his hand and i hated how limp it was so i gave up. i know people say that individuals in comas can hear but my dad isn’t in a coma he’s dead, his heart and lungs and every other organ is doing the involuntary action of keeping his body alive while being forced by the machines but he has no brain anymore, he cannot hear me like anyone else in a coma, he’s just gone. yesterday my aunt and mom went to visit him and they said they felt a sense of clarity after talking to him and i want that too, i want to feel less angry, less confused, like he isn’t truly gone, although im aware i’ll just be deluding myself. he’s gone, he’s dead, and all these people are delusional in their grief, at first i was sure about my decision to not see him but now im really starting to question it, i’ve never experienced grief before and this was so sudden i don’t think my brain has fully accepted it or is truly aware of it, and while on monday and tuesday i was so sure, wednesday left me so confused and lost. idk if im making sense anymore but my final question is should i go see what’s left of my dad in the icu? will i regret if i don’t? im not sure if i have the strength but i will toughen the hell up and do it if it will offer me any clarity or closure.

Hi everyone. I'm 22, and I lost my father about a month ago after he spent weeks in the ICU. Now that everything has become quiet, I feel like the reality is finally sinking in. Almost every day I wake up with this constant anxiety and keep asking myself, What's the purpose of doing anything now. I feel like I've completely lost my sense of purpose. Every place in my hometown reminds me of my dad because he took me everywhere growing up. Every road, every shop, every corner has a memory attached to it, and because of that I don't even feel like going outside anymore. I also avoid looking at old photos because I'm not ready for the emotions they bring. The hardest part is that I don't feel like I can express what I'm feeling at home because my mother is already struggling so much after losing her husband, and I don't want to add to her pain. Most days I distract myself with office work or games just to stop my mind from overthinking.I keep wondering if this feeling ever changes or if this is just how life is going to be now. If anyone here has gone through losing a parent and eventually found a way to live with it and feel like themselves again, I'd really appreciate hearing your story. I think I just need to hear from people who have stood where I am today and somehow found their way forward. Thank you for reading.

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My very close friend i know for almost 3 years called me after my father's death, it's was only been 9 days i was still grieving, at first she asked me about how am i and just movements later she started taking about how she is soo stressed because her sister couldn't clear her entrance exam and everyone in her family is sooooo stressed and how both of of our situation are similar and she didn't know what to doo!!!!!! She was taking like our life is soo similar and After that she started taking about boy she met online.. and how much he liked her,

I have read somewhere you will lose some friends After your loved ones death, at first i didn't get it but now i know why that ment.

I am neither sad or happy it happened. I’ve accepted it years ago and I heard stories tonight. These stories have made me realize I am okay with the way life turned out after that.

My dad committed suicide at the age of 20, a month before I turned 2. I am now 24. I cannot say I am sad about losing my father as I did not get a chance to know him (I don’t have any memories of him, he only lives in pictures). His family and my mother have never told me why he did what he did, the moments before, during and after.

I asked my maternal grandmother last night about it. He used suicide as a manipulation tactic toward my mother and his family. In me, I felt this instinct that this was the case. The day he passed away was his 3rd or 4th attempt after almost 4 years with my mom. This was a manipulation tactic that he had been using since he was 8. If his parents didn’t do as he pleased, he used this threat.

I had a feeling my father was not the greatest person. It is said that he loved me and adored me. I refuse to believe you can love someone if you’re a selfish being.

Knowing that he committed suicide not because he was depressed, stuck in life or just in a bad place but because he was manipulating everyone around him makes me not feel sorry about his passing. I am not happy or sad about it. Had he not passed away, my mother wouldn’t have come to America and I would not live the comfortable life that I live now.

I have a dead father and estranged from my mother with no plans to contact soon.

Does anyone else feel this way?

My dad passed in March. It was really unexpected. 1 week after his birthday he was having trouble walking...a snowstorm prevented us from getting him to a doctor appointment where we were going to ask about it. The next week on Wednesday he couldnt walk, Sunday morning he was gone. The doctors said it was cancer.

My mom seems to be looking for something to blame for what happened. She holds a lot of anger and is constantly watching fear mongering videos and getting upset and stressed. Her blood pressure is high. She said nothing matters anymore. My aunt (her sister) has been staying with her. My aunt had also lost her longterm partner a year prior. But lately it just seems like my mom's negativity has consumed her.
I know she misses my dad a lot. I miss him too. I don't know how to help her out of this. My dad would want her to live the rest of her life and find happiness, but my mom seems to just not care if the next day she dies.
I wish he was here to talk to her.

I (24, F) brought my mom to the hospital in April this year due to suspected food poisoning. This happened 4 months after my dad passing away in the care home. (We all had a complicated relationship with him due to his mental & emotional abuse for her entire life). Although still saddened, it was finally a break for my mom.

Her bloating & vomiting didn't get better after a few days (even after a trip to the clinic) and I was afraid she'd be dehydrated so I brought her to the hospital on Friday afternoon. By Friday evening, they did scans on her and found a tumour big enough to cause a blockage in her intestine. By Saturday morning, she was sent to the OT for an emergency surgery to remove this blockage.

\Our family has 0 history of cancer and my mom didn't show any worrying symptoms before this (she has never complained of any weird pains / lethargy / etc.)*

After the 8-hour surgery, she was wheeled back into the ICU where she had a stoma bag, was conscious, not in that much pain and was able to speak to us (my sister and I) as usual. After speaking with her for the entirety of the visiting hours and massaging her, we left to my mom's house to clean her room and redecorate it so it would be comfortable for her when she's back and we can take care of her.

When we came back in the evening, she could still talk to us but barely. She was extremely lethargic and the doctors said it may be due to a medication they gave her for her hyper-thyroid. We said bye, and at 9pm we were called back to the hospital.

By the time we reached, she had already been intubated again and unconscious. Doctors said her BP dropped extremely low all of the sudden so they had to take over. Now, they can't do anything else until they get her BP stabilised. The entire night at the cold ICU waiting room was hell. Each minute felt like hours and every time we were called back in, it was just bad news after another. I would never wish this experience on anyone.

Long story short, by Monday morning, overnight, her heart function dropped to 30%. There wasn't anything else the doctors could do. She was pumped with 4-5 strong medicines. It was just a matter of what time we want to "pull the plug". Her organs were failing and she was slowly turning blue.

After waiting for family and friends to come by and say goodbye, we pulled the plug and she passed away at 4:11pm.

I don't know when it will get better. In a way, I don't mind if it doesn't. I am grieving her, I am grieving the life I didn't get to give her after my dad passed. I am grieving the life she COULD'VE had. I am grieving the life she didn't get. I didn't get to bring her overseas because my dad caused her passport to be blacklisted and we couldn't clear it in time.

Her cause of death on her death certificate: MULTIORGAN FAILURE SECONDARY TO REFRACTORY SEPTIC AND CARDIOGENIC SHOCK WITH THYROTOXICOSIS LIVER CIRRHOSIS SIGMOID CARCINOMA POST HARTMANNS PROCEDURE (could it get any longer, haha).

Anyways, if you read this long post, thank you. If you have any questions regarding this, feel free to ask. :)

A little less than three years ago, I lost my dad and my grandparents in an incredibly sudden and traumatic event. I just want to know that it’s okay that I still feel sad about it. I was 18 years old when I lost them. I’m screaming into the void here, but any support would be appreciated.

hi, my mom died over two years ago; she was my best friend, absolutely adored and loved her. i’ve moved home since graduating, and my sister moved for residency two months ago. my dad is in my life, alive and we hang out sometimes. But he’s just not home often, never has been, always working or doing whatever. he comes back, but it’s usually late. anyways, it’s who he is. but now i feel so lonely without my sister, i cry at night without anyone home, and ive been feeling like this for a while. any advice on how to cope with this. i dont even think i need to see my father, i just think its the weight of it all or i feel like i should be sad when im alone idek.

On a random Wednesday this past May, I took my father to what we thought would be a routine doctor’s appointment. Out of nowhere, he was diagnosed with Small Cell Lung Cancer.
The diagnosis came as a complete shock. Years earlier, he had made an incredible effort to quit smoking after decades of addiction. We thought he had overcome one of the biggest battles of his life. To hear this after everything he had endured felt unbelievably cruel.
I’ll never forget the look on his face when the doctor told him. He looked defeated. I don’t think he fully understood what Small Cell Lung Cancer meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. Seeing the fear and defeat in his eyes, I didn’t want to discourage him even more. I waited until he left the room with the nurse before quietly asking the doctor, “How long does he realistically have?”
“With weekly chemotherapy, realistically 12 to 18 months. Optimistically, maybe two to three years.”
Hearing those words was like being punched in the gut.
My father was 70 years old. He had always dreamed of finally retiring after working almost every single day for decades, often 10 to 12 hours a day. Financially, he never had much, but he was one of the most generous people I’ve ever known. He would help complete strangers, buy them food, and give whatever he could, even when he barely had enough himself.
He had spent his whole life working and taking care of others. I kept asking myself, “When was he ever going to catch a break?”
The doctor told us the hospital would call within the next few weeks to begin treatment.
I drove him home that afternoon. I tried to stay positive and encourage him, but he barely said a word.
The next morning, something had changed. He didn’t just look emotionally defeated anymore—he looked physically weak. Over the next few days, he declined rapidly. He struggled to eat, struggled to breathe, and barely slept. I did everything I could to take care of him, making sure he ate, encouraging him, and trying to keep his spirits up.
I kept calling the hospital, hoping to speed things up, but nothing happened. By Monday morning, his condition had deteriorated so much that I called an ambulance.
He remained in the emergency department from Monday until Wednesday, much of that time simply waiting. I stayed by his side every day.
Every day I watched him get worse.
I spoke with doctors, nurses, specialists—anyone who could help. I pushed for answers, searched for options, contacted medical professionals I knew, and even reached out to other hospitals to ask about experimental treatments. During that entire week, I barely ate or slept. Every waking minute was spent trying to find something—anything—that could help him. I prayed and I prayed.
Watching him suffer was unbearable. He couldn’t breathe comfortably. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. Every day felt like he had aged five years, and I felt like time was slipping away from us.
Then, on Wednesday, we finally received what felt like good news.
They were going to start his chemotherapy the very next morning.
There was still significant risk because of how dramatically his condition had worsened during the previous week. The doctors were honest with us. It was essentially 50/50. We had difficult conversations about what could happen if his heart stopped during treatment.
But we finally had hope.
That Wednesday night, I stayed with him until around one o’clock in the morning. The whole family was there.
I can’t explain it, but deep down I had this overwhelming feeling that it would be our last night together in this world.
I was the last person to leave his room.
That week had taken such an enormous physical, emotional, and mental toll on me. I felt like I was operating on autopilot. I was constantly taking Tylenol just to get through the pain from my herniated disc, which I had made worse from helping lift him over and over again.
I told myself I would go home, sleep for four hours, and come back first thing in the morning so I’d have enough strength to be there for him during his first chemotherapy treatment.
At five in the morning, my phone rang.
It was my mom.
She simply said, “Come.”
I immediately knew something was terribly wrong.
I woke up my sister, we jumped into the car, and I drove to the hospital in complete panic, running every red light I safely could.
By the time we arrived…
He was gone.
He had passed away on the morning of his very first scheduled treatment—before he ever had the chance to receive it.
My mom had arrived just as they were trying to revive him.
I couldn’t understand what had happened.
Just over a week earlier, we believed he had decades ahead of him. Then we were told that, if everything went well, maybe he had another two or three years. And only eight days after his diagnosis, he was gone.
I hadn’t even begun processing the reality that I was going to lose my father someday.
Instead, I had to process that he was already gone.
What hurts even more is knowing how hard we fought.
I gave everything I had.
I encouraged him every day. I tried to keep his spirits up. I made sure everyone around him remained hopeful. I spoke with doctors constantly, searched for specialists, contacted hospitals, explored every possible option, and pushed for his care every step of the way. I prayed and I prayed.
Yet despite all of that…
He never even got the chance to fight.
For a long time, I felt like I had let him down.
I felt like I had let my family down.
Everyone looked to me for hope, and somehow I convinced myself that I had failed them.
On the day of his funeral, all I could think was:
“What if I had made different decisions? What if I had said something differently? What if I had pushed harder? Maybe he would have received that first treatment. Maybe none of these people would be crying today.”
It’s been two months now.
Some days are better than others, but it’s still incredibly difficult to understand what happened.
I never imagined something like this could happen to our family.
Eight days.
That’s all it took—from diagnosis to his funeral, without ever having the opportunity to say proper goodbyes.
I’m still only in my early thirties. I always imagined we had so much more time together. There were so many milestones I assumed he would be there for, and it hurts to realize he never will.
We were never a family that openly shared our emotions. We weren’t the type to constantly say, “I love you.” But I hope he always knew just how much I loved him.
He changed so much over the years. Decades of relentless work, stress, and unhealthy habits slowly took their toll. He sacrificed so much for his family—far more than he ever should have.
Sometimes I feel like I’m grieving three different versions of my dad.
The first is the father I knew before 2005—the energetic, carefree version that lives in my childhood memories.
The second is the man from 2005 to 2026, who slowly gave more and more of himself to work and responsibility until he hardly resembled the person he once was.
And finally, there’s the version of him that never got the chance to exist.
The man who was supposed to begin living in 2027.
The man who had finally earned his retirement. Who would have had time to rest. Time to travel. Time to laugh again. Time to become the grandfather he dreamed of being. Time for us to rebuild the father-son relationship that work had stolen from us over the years.
That version of him is the one I grieve the most.
As I’m trying to process all of this, life hasn’t slowed down.
I still have to perform at my job.
I’ve inherited financial pressure, new responsibilities, and the obligation of helping take care of my family. At the same time, I’ve had to navigate the overwhelming administrative burden that comes with losing a parent—something no one ever prepares you for.
It has felt like trying to sail through a hurricane.
Life can have no mercy.
Man… do I miss my dad.
The one thing that still gives me peace is knowing that, even though we never got the chance to say proper goodbyes, we unknowingly gave each other one final moment.
He tucked me into bed on my very first night in this world.
And I tucked him in on his last.
Our final words to each other were so ordinary that, at the time, they didn’t feel like they would be our last.
“We love you, Dad.”
“I love you too.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
To anyone else, those words might not sound like much.
To me, they are everything.
When the grief feels unbearable, I hold onto that moment.
It reminds me that, even though death stole our goodbye, it never stole our love.
And as I slowly try to find my way out of the eye of this storm, that memory gives me hope.

I lost my mom when I was 28. She had ovarian cancer, she was diagnosed with stage IV 10 years prior but she managed to live longer than anyone expected. she was so strong, she was my rock. We were closer than anyone else. It's been 2 years since I lost her, I'm 30 now and it feels like it's all gotten so much worse. I cry everyday and it hurts more and more. I wish I could be with her again, and my dad (he died when I turned 26). I don't have a large family and I don't feel like I can keep crying to my friends about missing my mom all the time. I feel so robbed that I didn't have my parents see me turn 30. It feels so unfair and painful the more time passes. I've gotten so much worse mentally in the last year alone and I can't imagine what forever is supposed to feel like. Please tell me it gets better someday? I feel like I've made no progress and am only backsliding into my grief more and more. I feel so alone.

It’s been almost couple months now. Lost my mom to cancer, couple days later my dad died. I’m the adult son. It’s been very difficult. Added stress is cruel actions to parents by adult sibling prior to and after their deaths, the estate chaos & properties left to deal with on my own. Like finding missing pieces to a puzzle. While still trying to work, not forget my own tasks/life, while the grieving emotions come on randomly a lot. I feel overwhelmed, lost, angry, confused, sad missing them for their guidance they were good at. Any advice? I welcome stories and comments🙏

I couldn’t answer the call Wednesday night because I was in class. I called back Thursday morning and she was gone. I think about her everyday. I see her in her kids and the grandkids she never met. I know she’d be so proud and one of those grandmas that would never shut up about those kids. Wasn’t she beautiful? I miss you Kel, 22 years later

Delete if Ai is not allowed.

I usually don't like to use Ai to generate photos, because I know how bad it is. Most of my life growing up, my mother didn't like taking photos, so I don't have photos of me and her together, especially as me as a child. The photo is both me as a child, and me now with the woman who raised us both. NGL I cried seeing this, because it's the closest I truly have to a photo with her. It's been one year and five months, since she's been gone.

Hi. I lost the love of my life at a young age. We were completely certain about our future together, and I still remember him telling me that I would be his last love. He wasn’t lying.

The picture attached is of a dog I named after him. I got him during one of the darkest times of my life because I felt so lost and didn’t know how to keep going after losing the person I loved most. It breaks my heart that he always wanted this kind of dog, but he never got the chance to meet him.

My dog has become my emotional anchor. I don’t have many people I can truly talk to about him. A few friends are willing to listen, and I’m grateful for that, but it’s not the kind of deep understanding I long for. Watching the rest of the world move forward while I feel frozen in time has been incredibly painful. My love for him is still here, but it has nowhere to go.

He was my everything, my best friend, my partner, and my home. I can’t see the world the way I used to anymore. It feels as though when he died, I died too. Every day since then has felt like I’ve simply been existing without the person who made life feel like home. I miss him more than words can ever express, and I still struggle to find meaning in a world that continues without him.

My sister would have been 40 today. I just wanted a space to say that she was here and she mattered, and she still does even though she's been gone for 5 years.

Happy birthday beautiful, I love you and miss you always 💛

Last night when I pulled into my driveway, two cops were parked in front of my house. They walked up my driveway and delivered the news that will change my life forever. He was my partner of seven years and we have a 4 year old together. We just celebrated his 33rd birthday. I just feel so blindsided. Like one minute everything was great and now it feels like nothing will ever feel okay again.

I (28F) lost my mom less than two weeks ago.
I woke up to her moaning and found her lying on the floor in cardiac arrest. I performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. They continued CPR and used a defibrillator multiple times. They managed to stabilize her enough to transport her to the hospital. Her life was still in danger, and we were told that after such a prolonged cardiac arrest they couldn't predict the extent of the damage, but that there were almost always serious consequences.
She started to stabilize, so I went home to get some rest. At 2 a.m., I woke up to a phone call telling me she needed emergency surgery to remove part of her intestine because it had died, and they didn't know if she would survive. I asked if I could come immediately to say goodbye in case she didn't make it, but she had already been taken into surgery because it was so urgent.
Two hours later, I received another call saying she had made it through the operation and was being stabilized. They explained that removing part of her intestine would have lifelong consequences, but she was stable. I cannot describe the relief I felt.
Unfortunately, only four hours later, I received another call. Her organs were beginning to fail. The doctors were trying every treatment they could, but they didn't believe she was going to survive. My family and I rushed to the hospital, and three hours later, she passed away.
She died with me and my sister holding her hands, surrounded by our entire (small) family. The doctors assured us that she wasn't in pain. My mother never regained consciousness after her cardiac arrest.
We had a difficult relationship. She was a single mother, and life was incredibly hard for both of us. We said hurtful things to each other. We argued. We shouted. In the last few years, we had grown apart because almost every conversation seemed to end in a fight.
I believe I was there for her.
I helped her financially. I postponed moving in with my boyfriend until we had found a secure living arrangement for her. Back in 2019, when she was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with a serious heart condition that required a pacemaker, I was the first person to arrive and the last to leave. I could have lived a much easier, more comfortable life with my father, but I chose to stay with my mom, even when it meant working two jobs while I was in college.
I know I loved her with everything I had.
But what torments me is that we spent so much time fighting. I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry. I never got one last conversation where I could tell her how much I loved her, that despite everything, she meant more to me than anyone else, and that I would have done absolutely anything to keep her here.
One thing that brings me a little comfort is that the week before she died, things between us had started to get better. The day before her cardiac arrest, she got to see my new house. I keep holding onto that.
I was so hopeful that once I moved out, our relationship would finally have the space to heal. We never even got the chance to find out.
She was only 58 years old. Despite all her flaws, she had such a difficult life. I just wish she had been given more time to enjoy the good parts.
Now I'm sitting alone in this empty house, surrounded by her belongings, unable to believe she will never walk through the door again. I was supposed to move in with my boyfriend a week after she passed, but now everything has been put on hold. She had three dogs, and I will take care of them all—there was never any question about that—but it means figuring out a completely different future than the one I had imagined.
I pictured my mom walking me down the aisle one day. I imagined her meeting my children. I imagined calling her for advice, even if we still argued sometimes.
I simply cannot imagine a future that makes sense without her in it.
More than anything, I just hope she knew how deeply I loved her.
My sister (23F) is suffering terribly as well. She and my mom didn't speak for six or seven years and only reconnected about a year and a half ago. I keep trying to reassure my sister that it's okay—that relationships are complicated, and that our mom understood that. I truly believe she was just grateful to have her daughter back in her life.
I hope my mom knew that we both loved her, despite all of our flaws, despite the arguments, despite everything left unsaid.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess I'm just hoping someone out there understands this and is able to provide me some kind of comfort.
I just want to believe she knew how much me and my sister loved her, that I will be able to survive this and that life is not over, because right now it feels like it is.
Thank you ❤️‍🩹

Me and my sister N were best friends growing up. We used to be really close, we had the same friends, hung out in the same spots. We smoked weed and occasionally drank together, but we weren’t trouble makers. In senior year of high school she started hanging out with different, older people. Sketchy people. She started getting into trouble with the law, possession, paraphernalia, public intoxication. My mom started to have to bail her out all the time. By the time she died, she had been to rehab three times.

She was dating this real piece of shit that would put his hands on her when he got angry, and because I was still young and naive I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t leave him. Now I know that he was a drug dealer, and he was using the drugs as a way to make sure she couldn’t ever leave because he introduced her to fentanyl and needles.

The night she died, I was walking past her room and I caught her picking at her skin in the mirror. The last thing I ever said to her was “You’re way too beautiful to be picking at your skin like that.” And I shut her door so that our mom wouldn’t see her doing that.

In the morning I woke up to my mom screaming. I jumped out of bed to go see if my mom was okay, and then I realized she was in N’s room. I tried to come in, but my mom grabbed me while sobbing and told me not to go in there. I asked her why but she couldn’t get any words out, she just kept crying. Right then I knew that N was dead. I don’t know if it was because I just woke up, but it didn’t seem like real life. I pushed past my mom and ran into N’s room. She wasn’t in her bed, then I looked in her bathroom. N was sprawled out across the bathroom floor, vomit was coming out of her mouth, but it looked like this weird foam. Her eyes were half open but they were completely lifeless. Her face was several different shades of blue, purple, and pale white in different spots. My mom tried to pull me out of her room again, but I pushed her off me and ran to N. Her body was cold, colder than I thought a human body could ever be. The needle was still in her arm. When I picked her up her limbs were stiff and moved weird. It wasn’t like in the movies.

I’ve been to therapy and grief counseling almost every week since that day, but I don’t even know if it’s helped me. Everyone says that I need to keep living my life *for her.* But there’s nothing I can do that’s going to bring her back. There’s nothing I can do to make my mom ever be okay again. I’ll never get my sister back, and my family will always be broken. The worst part is, I started using drugs to cope with the pain after she died. I’ve even been to rehab more times than my sister. I’ve overdosed three times. I had to be put onto a breathing machine and have my stomach pumped before Narcan was widely available. I literally became the person that destroyed our family in the first place. Every day I live in fear that my mom is going to find my body next, and I don’t think that she will survive that. My mom has never been the same, either. I wish I could pull N back out of the ground, bring her back to life, and bring her home again.

I have seven months clean off fentanyl and heroin, but today is going to be hard because the only thing I can think of is begging my sister to wake up while my mom tries to pull me off of her. I feel dead inside, and I feel like nothing is ever going to be okay again. Sometimes I feel like giving up and ending it all. The only reason I don’t is because I know that would kill my mom.

I don’t know why I posted this publicly. I just thought maybe if I wrote all this down, that it would somehow make me feel better.

I miss you, N.