It's been nearly 2 years since my Dad died - 63, cancer with unknown primary. I cope kind of ok, and I know that none of this is linear.
But I am the eldest daughter, and I am that 'fix everything' stereotype. I provide so much support to my Mum and everyone else and I suppose the cup is getting empty.
I've tried grief counselling, a couple of times,but it wasn't for me. I feel like what I really want to do is just approach random strangers and yell something like: 'He didn't just die! He died horribly, he died in pain, in hospital, and the cancer had taken everything. His whole chest looked flattened, and his arms didn't look like his arms! It was so horrific! The cancer was everywhere but his sodding heart, and so his last days were this horrifically prolonged agony where everything else was shutting down and his stupid healthy heart kept trying to keep him alive!'
And I don't want this, I feel stuck and crazy.
