guilt and grief
Hi guys, I (22f) lost my father to ALS three years ago. He was diagnosed when I was 11, and passed away when i was 19. My grieving process hasn't been easy at all, given I had a strain relationship with my dad. It wasn't always like this though. As a child, I remember seeing my father as a superhero. I would stay up at night as a kid waiting for him to get home from work to be awake when he would tuck me in. I remember when my mother slapped me in the face, I immediately called my dad who was at work to cry to him, and he scolded my mother on my behalf. However, when he got sick, slowly, I started growing resentment towards him. I hated seeing him weak, and his temper got worse with being terminally ill, so we would get into so many arguments. He also didn't cope with his disease well, as he was deep into denial and used anger towards us. I was also such a brat about providing care to him. I felt suffocated by it all. And even back then, i would feel so guilty that I acted this way towards him because i knew he was going to die soon. Every year, as a new year resolution, I would set a goal to be kinder to my father, and to fight less with him. Anyways, I feel like a monster for the way I treated him. He was dying, and it should've been the only thing that mattered. All our heated fights, all my resentment, all the inconveniences shouldn't even compare, and yet, all i could do is go deeper into my anger. He passed away unexpectedly, as I woke up one morning and found him unconscious in his wheelchair home alone. It's like I knew he was sick, but in my head, I got so used to him being sick after 8 years and it never actually occured to me he was near death. So it was an unexpected death in a way, meaning I didn't get to say goodbye. I don't even remember what was the last words I said to him the night before. I never got to apologize to him for all my harsh words over the years and I never got to tell him that I had misdirected my anger and pain towards his disease onto him. I never got to say how much I loved him and how important he was to me, even when he felt like he was just a sick man living at home. I never thought how much his presence meant to me until he was gone. I feel so much sorrow for adding onto his pain during the time he was alive. I understand that I was a kid, but it's like consicously I knew he was going to die and that he was sick, and yet I still decided to give into my anger. I really hate this disease. I feel so helpless because I will never get to say anything to my father ever again. and I hate myself for how I coped with his sickness. And I hate the healthcare system for never providing any social support to me and my family. Not once did any healthcare professional speak to me or my siblings. It sucks. I am so mad at the world, and I am even more mad at myself. Looking back, my father was my pillar. and I miss him so much. this sucks