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A Cathartic Run through of the year - pre-bereavement and academic entanglement

This is the first Christmas that my father is not completely with us and the first month really that I am embracing the fact that he is on his own path and that I have my own. Next Christmas, my Ph.D will be submitted and who knows if he will still be with us. This piece functions as a cathartic relief as I go through what happens this year whilst being in my 3rd year of Ph.D. I hope it will Help anyone going through pre-bereavement. It gets better eventually.
Last Christmas, my father is at home, he is not well, yet still vivacious and talkative. His full diagnostic is unknown. He has a depression, some hallucinations at times and can be aggressive if too tired. I spend most of the time with him. We walk in green fields, talk about the wonder of the world, laughs about silly things and discuss life and death. I even take notes of what his funeral could be like. 

January comes, I am back in the UK. Two days after I left, he is at the hospital, I crash. My mum asks me to focus on my Ph.D. I do as best as I can with a bleeding heart. I tell my supervisors, my closed friends and family. I shut down.

February comes, I go to France to see him. His hair have grown and are grey. He cannot talk, he cannot walk no more, he is asleep, tied to a chair because they do not want him to fall. The tablets knocks him out. I cry relentlessly. The doctor has little hope. They try to get him accepted into a retirement home. They still do not know what he has. I go back to the UK. I am broken. 

April comes, I go back home. My father is in a retirement home. He can talk. He cannot walk yet. He recognises me. He is talkative. He talks mainly to himself. They give us the final diagnostic: he has Lewy Body dementia. I am in shock yet so pleased to see him and knowing that he is being take care of. I am announced that his work family want to organise an event to honour his achievements in his place of work in June. We have to go to represent him as he cannot come along. I am scared.

May comes, I am in the UK and sick to the stomach thinking about going back where he worked for the last 30 years. I cannot focus. I am scared that I will crack in front of all the people he loves and that I love too. I try to focus on work,  yet keep falling, I am falling into despair. I numb the feelings in a meaningless void of activities. I get help. I am drowning

June comes, I am going to France. I cry when I get to his workplace. I grew up there this is why. Yet, I am honoured to know how many people he has touched through his career. I am inspired.

July-August comes, I am back in the UK. I have a report to turn over. I have more energy and try to do my best. My mum calls me telling me that my dad is asking after me. I buy a ticket to go end of September. I submit my report. The anxiety kicks in as I realise that I have a review coming up with my internal assessor. How can I explain my lack of progress? I could have done better. I could have channel the pain into the work. I cannot even talk about it without crying still. I crash, my heart is still bleeding. June has not fixed it all. I am annoyed with myself.

September comes, I have my review. I do not say what happened in the last 9 months. My internal assessor is happy with my work but feels that I will need another year to complete it. I do not bring up any of this year experience because I can't. Few days after the meeting, I take the courage to drop an email. She is ok with it and believe that I can complete the Ph.D in a year. I am relieved.

Last weekend of September, back in France. He walks, he talks, he looks good, he is happy to see me and I am happy too. I meet many of his friends who shows me pictures of him when he was younger. I am inspired. What a full life he had, I want this for me too. I am hopeful.

October comes, I am feeling better and searching for my own path without him.

November comes, I am clarifying goals and priorities as I am being called upon on my productivity in my academic work. I want to stop numbing the way I feel and live again properly.

December, Lightbulb moment, I know where to go and I will.

My Mum is calling: Your dad is at the hospital, he wants you and I to start sorting out the funeral.

I cry, crash for a day. I take my notes from last Christmas on what he wanted. He wants me to be his voice and damn me, it will be a terrific expression on how grateful i am for how much I have grown because of the love and attachment i have for him.

I hope my experience resonated with you.
IF you had to experience loss, what was your experience and what helped you to make it better? Leave a comment. And if you know anyone who are going through a similar difficult path, share this story with them.



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