Hi, welcome
I'm sorry to hear of your loss. ☹️
It's different for everyone and I lost my beautiful dad in 1992. Since then often I've written poetry about him that I'll include below. We also have a poetry corner here
https://forums.beyondblue.org.au/t5/bb-social-zone/the-poetry-corner-post-your-poems-in-here/td-p/54...
Many poems there that are relevant to your grief and mixed with some funny ones that makes sure you are remaining in check with reality that life cant be consumed with grief alone.
So there is some basics that we can forget to implement and here they are-
- Ask yourself what would dad want during our xmas time? Maybe for us to talk about his humour, devotion, experiences as a child how he cared for us
- Make an album of your memories of him. Share them with family when the time is right say between meals
- Plant a rose in the garden in his honour or his favourite plant for my dad it was a fuchsia.
- Try the bounce back method eg allow yourself to let your tears flow and after say 20 minutes bounce back by being distracted. A walk around the block is the best because some distraction always happens. Numerous times this has occurred with me. An old lady struggling with her shopping basket so help her, other pets being walked and interacting etc. I even had a jigsaw in a spare room for a while, do 20 pieces and I felt better.
- Share your hurt to good friends and family.
I'm sorry again for your loss.
An old porch chair where my dad once sat
A smoke in his hand and slippers on a mat
I remember when he’d laugh and smile at me
And I’d return the honor almost instantly
My thoughts are such now that dad has passed away
I glance at that empty chair each and every day
Sorrow fills my heart and in a way it’s sad
That I still look at that chair and still smile at my dad
But all’s not lost and I don’t waste my time
Cause I still see his face smiling just like mine
Yes in that old porch chair where my dad once sat
Is his smoke in his hands and slippers on a mat….
Soon it became obvious
As my ol’ man came of age
That the strain of life itself
Did complete another page
And as his ‘book’ filled up
To approach the final scene
I knew each wrinkle on his face
And which one came from me
And as I read the last line
Of the chapter not complete
It tells of his twilight years
That he knew he’d never meet
Dad was never scared to die
He faced it brave and strong
And I knew each wrinkle on his face
And where they did come from….
Dont be afraid to reply. I'm here daily.
TonyWK
