There are 7 stages of Grieving:

SHOCK & DENIAL- You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief.
PAIN & GUILT- ...
ANGER & BARGAINING- ...
"DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS- ...
THE UPWARD TURN- ...
RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH- ...
ACCEPTANCE & HOPE-


There is no time line for any of this - and you got to work thru all of it.

My dad died in 94 and my mom in 98 - I still miss them.

I had a very hard time with my mom's death. She had Alzheimers for over 4 years. I lost here twice: once when she ceased to recognize me and when she finally passed. I sought help because I did not get closure I needed.

There is no harm is getting help.

I'm sorry for your loss.

This is a good thing...something not everyone has. Embrace it......

You should consider yourself lucky in some respects. I'm afraid to say my parents were distant and unengaging. As my sister put it, they devalued their children. When they passed I really didn't feel much, except for the fact parts of the family were gone. I have a few fond memories but not from my parents relations with us. My two sisters feel the same. So be happy you had the kind(s) of relationship(s) that engender the feeling of closeness you have.

This has turned into a regular wet hanky party..a leaky faucet has nothin on you Boyz.

**** you.

There are other threads you can ply your particular brand of douchbaggery.

This isn't one of them.

This.

It is normal but you need to stay busy in the meantime. That's what she probably would have wanted of you.
Let it all out, a little at a time. Some will be good. Some will be bad.
Write it down. Do something in her honor. Speak to the clouds. Anything. Turn it into something perhaps she would have done. Inspiration.
Keep her with you.

Yes, you are still going through your "year of firsts". And you are in the middle of the holiday season, a particularly rough time. It gets easier, but it never goes away.

May you find comfort, and her memory be a blessing to you

Six months isn't a long time to grieve at all.

It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to cry for no reason. It is also OK to smile. We miss people, and we feel sad about loosing them, but we don't have to hold on to that feeling to prove that we love them. We aren't built to be perpetually sad, and those feelings will fade as long as we honor them and experience them instead of stuffing them.

Someday you will look back and see the happy times. In the meantime, cherish the ones who are still close to you, and don't stop doing the things that make life worthwhile.

Hang in there, it gets better.

You edited.

It is a good thing that you can be so emotionally expressive.

The Op evoked the emotional memories of the readers.

Short answer, yes (as many expressed).

Take the time to heal, if it is too much for you consider getting grief counseling. It was a saving grace for me after my wife's accident. And your journey is your own. Only you can experience what you are feeling and even of we might have similar experiences and loss, this one is unique to you and your relationship to your dad.

And as said by others, there is no time limit for your grief. For me the loss of my father 2 years ago was maybe not that difficult (living on a different continent for 20 years and not seeing each other that often tends to put distance even in close relationships). And now, in the second year of losing my wife there's times that are much more difficult than the first year.

This is comparable to a fatal car accident as far as mental trauma.

Give some time.

For myself I find the 7 stages repeat in a loop. Not always in the same order or severity, but they are still there.

I was close to my mum and she died 31 years ago. I still miss her dearly. Dad died 20 years ago. Same deal. Death sucks.

That would be tough.

On grieving, I think no 2 situations are alike. Even with each parent. Was for me.

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I lost my father with no warning the morning of February 1st of this year. Massive heart attack. Fortunately, we had a very special and positive discussion over the phone the night before. Talking cars, planes, grandkids, making plans for Easter, etc. All no more.

He was my mentor, my cheerleader...my friend. As I crossed into my 40s and him into his 70th year, I was beginning to see a shift in our roles with one another with him now coming to me for advice and guidance or ideas to bounce off of. What a tremendous honor it was.

While I do ok day to day, when I find myself very stressed is when I get deeply saddened and wish he was here. Other times I get angry. Angry for him not taking better care of himself, angry at myself for not having the grandkids see more of him, and angry at the third-world level healthcare he received after relocating to the gulf coast of Florida (for shame). But most of the time I feel so thankful for having him as my dad and having the relationship we did.

I guess that’s a long way of saying to you, yes, it is perfectly normal. Hang in there.

Mom had a major stroke in 2005. Pretty much morned her passing then. Took care of what was left without sibling help for the next 11 years as she remembered less and less. Not much left to mourn when she actually passed.

I lost my Dad back in 2001. It really helped me to me to think of the positive times I had with him. I tried hard to focus on the positive moments of our relationship and how much he meant to me and so many other people. I still miss hime dearly but take comfort in the fact that he lives on in the very many people whose lives he touched.

I cry all over again.

He had scheduled for that Saturday the family reunion. But, because the Cowboy (as he was affectionately known by many) suddenly decided to ride off into the sunset (ruptured Abdominal Aortic Aneurism) our 31st Annual Family Reunion was also his wake and funeral at the farm (Hidden Valley).

The ironical* part is a couple weeks prior I had talked to my sister and told her that I had already mourned the passing of Fuzzy (as he was affectionately known by many) because of the AAA and that when he did finally leave us, my plan was not to cry. Well, though it was best laid, My Plan failed.

When Uncle Dave (as he was affectionately known by many) went to the fridge and there was no beer (or so he thought not having looked behind the milk), he keeled over-dead as a doornail. The shock was too much for the 81 year-old Grampa (as he was affectionately known by many-friends and family alike) that there was no beer.

So we had a big discussion over the following two days: hat-no hat. We deduced nobody would rekonize* him without it we asked the undertaker* to implevise* something so he could be laid out with his hat on. Over the mild objections of said undertaker, but with the exuberant blessings of Mom, he did a wonderful job, irregardless*. We still to this day, debate whether he looked alive when he was dead or if he looked dead when he was alive. Either way, the Old Fart (as he was affectionately known by many) looked like he was sleeping with his hat on. "Duh" we said. He did EVERYTHING with his hat on, according to Mom. So he sleeps with it on at this very moment.

Of course, we ran out of food because hundreds more than expected showed up for the funeral for Dad (as he was affectionately known by us). The Deputy (as he was affectionately known by the County Sheriff's Posse) was buried to the beautiful sound of my sister's rendition of Amazing Grace, followed by the mournful bugling of Taps and the solemn presentation by the US Navy and a grateful nation of the American Flag to my greiving mother (he was a WWII Vet); the first handful of dirt was splayed over his casket by a guy named Poncho.

The Dealer (as he was affectionately known by the Wednesday night poker group) never complained of pain or misfortune or knew the meaning of a grudge, but chose to laugh, love, live and die with his hat on.

This Friend, as he was affectionately known far and wide, lies facing the sunrise in the cemetery next to the farm, that homicidal beer tucked next to him; he looking down at us, laughed while we celebrated his life on August 11, 2007. Willie Nelson (of whom he was the spittin' image and by which he was affectionately known by strangers who asked for his autograph) would have been appalled at my tears. Those tears that well up sometimes still when I open the fridge and am reminded that life goes on.



*His oft used terms