-
You are currently viewing our forum as a guest which gives you limited access.
By joining you will gain full access to thousands of Videos, Pictures & Much More.
Membership is absolutely FREE and registration is FAST & SIMPLE so please, Register Today and join one of the friendliest communities on the net!
You must be at least 18 years old to legally access this forum. -
Hello Guest,
Thanks for remaining an active member on GayHeaven. We hope you've enjoyed the forum so far.
Our records indicate that you have not posted on our forums in several weeks. Why not dismiss this notice & make your next post today by doing one of the following:
- General Discussion Area - Engage in a conversation with other members.
- Gay Picture Collections - Share any pictures you may have collected from blogs and other sites. Don't know how to post? Click HERE to visit our easy 3-steps tutorial for picture posting.
- Show Yourself Off - Brave enough to post your own pictures or videos? Let us see, enjoy & comment on that for you.
- Gay Clips - Start sharing hot video clips you may have. Don't know how to get started? Click HERE to view our detailed tutorial for video posting.
Active and contributing members will earn special ranks. Click HERE to view the full list of ranks & privileges given to active members & how you can easily obtain them.
Please do not flood the forum with "Thank you" posts. Instead, please use the "thanks button"
We Hope you enjoy the forum & thanks for your efforts!
The GayHeaven Team.
How many of you lost a parent ?
- Thread starter Jamie
- Start date
S
Snome
Guest
I know that this doesn't compare with losing a parent when a child but...
...When my best friend's parents were killed in a road accident when I was 8, I made my dad promise me he wouldn't die before I was 40 - how foolish and insecure we can be as children.
Well, my dad died at the age of 83 in Sept 2000. And what age was I? I was 40. Isn't life strange. I miss him and thinking of this strange coincidence (is it a coincidence?) still makes me very emotional. Such love.
...When my best friend's parents were killed in a road accident when I was 8, I made my dad promise me he wouldn't die before I was 40 - how foolish and insecure we can be as children.
Well, my dad died at the age of 83 in Sept 2000. And what age was I? I was 40. Isn't life strange. I miss him and thinking of this strange coincidence (is it a coincidence?) still makes me very emotional. Such love.
S
Snome
Guest
...also, my uncle abused me (not sure abuse is the right word) from when I was 8 until about 14. He'd tickle me (I was and still am very ticklish) and in tickling me he'd end up touching my genitals. Obviously, I didn't enjoy that bit but it didn't stop me wanting to visit him and I cannot find it in my heart, today, to hate him.
He died at 69 in 1991. I was 31. I acted as next of kin and made all the funeral arrangements, as my dad was ill in hospital.
What happened, happened and it happened, when I was growing up, that's all. What is there to hate. He was as he was, and I am as I am. This is the only life I know, so why waste it hating something I cannot change?
He died at 69 in 1991. I was 31. I acted as next of kin and made all the funeral arrangements, as my dad was ill in hospital.
What happened, happened and it happened, when I was growing up, that's all. What is there to hate. He was as he was, and I am as I am. This is the only life I know, so why waste it hating something I cannot change?
Tjerk12
Super Vip
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2008
- Messages
- 1,852
- Reaction score
- 133
- Points
- 0
There is so much pain and sorrow in most of your posts, that I feel shame and nearly miss the courage to tell my story. I lost both my parents (my father in 2000 and my mother three years later). My sister and I had wonderful parents. Friendly, loving, caring, whatever good qualities you can think of, they applied to them. So I can really know that advises as think of the good times, remember all the nice things you had together, are silly remarks. Losing somebody who you dearly love causes pain, terrible pain. After all those years the pain is as strong as in the beginning. I was there when they died. My father was in coma in hospital. I still see the moment, just before he died, that he opened his eyes and however he was nearly blind I felt his farewell look burn my soul. Three years later my mother phoned me one morning. She complained having trouble to breathe. I spent whole day with her, seeing her slowly driven in the arms of death. In the ambulance she got a heart failure and was reanimated, the doctor said. I begged him not to reanimate again. My mother was 88 years old and lived a decent life. She deserved a decent death and not to live as a plant in some intensive care station.
Jamie, life is emotion. I thank you so much for bringing up this post. Life and death are the two strongest emotions. The first brings joy, the second pain. Both make you aware that you are alive, able to feel. You gave me that strong feeling with your post. First your emotional story and then you brought my parents back for a short moment.
It is nice to share those feelings with nice people. Sharing is caring.
Jamie, life is emotion. I thank you so much for bringing up this post. Life and death are the two strongest emotions. The first brings joy, the second pain. Both make you aware that you are alive, able to feel. You gave me that strong feeling with your post. First your emotional story and then you brought my parents back for a short moment.
It is nice to share those feelings with nice people. Sharing is caring.
Tjerk12
Super Vip
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2008
- Messages
- 1,852
- Reaction score
- 133
- Points
- 0
Jamie, this one is for you. It symbolizes our community. You are the second one on the left side. Actually we don't see each other. But we can touch each others minds. Your arm on my shoulder shows that you touched me. The whole picture shows that there is a bond between the guys. Sharing is caring. Hope you like it.
[/URL].[/IMG]
I know my father is dead but I have no clue when that exact date was, I am not sure what caused his death and I am not sure where he is burried/cremated or what happened to his body.
I just have some very vague memories of him and my mother has maybe a dozen of his pics, that's all.
My mother raised us kids (there is 5 of us) all by herself, she is still alive today (in her 80's) and still going strong, I am so happy with that!!! Eventough she had a minor stroke some years ago her mind is working ok, we (and most of all she herself) is so happy she still lives in the "present" and not in "the past" (she does not have Alzheimer) but unfortunatly her body lets her down sometimes, she can not walk anymore then a few kilometers and she had to give up dancing (which was very painful for her).
But still, she is the best mother a man can have and I hope she stays with me for many years to come
As for grandparents, I only have known 1 grandfather (father of my mother) and 1 grandmother (mother of my father), the other 2 had already died when I was born, my grandnother died when I was about 10, my grandfather died when I was about 20, from both I have good memories
I just have some very vague memories of him and my mother has maybe a dozen of his pics, that's all.
My mother raised us kids (there is 5 of us) all by herself, she is still alive today (in her 80's) and still going strong, I am so happy with that!!! Eventough she had a minor stroke some years ago her mind is working ok, we (and most of all she herself) is so happy she still lives in the "present" and not in "the past" (she does not have Alzheimer) but unfortunatly her body lets her down sometimes, she can not walk anymore then a few kilometers and she had to give up dancing (which was very painful for her).
But still, she is the best mother a man can have and I hope she stays with me for many years to come
As for grandparents, I only have known 1 grandfather (father of my mother) and 1 grandmother (mother of my father), the other 2 had already died when I was born, my grandnother died when I was about 10, my grandfather died when I was about 20, from both I have good memories
Last edited:
mrduke
Not a hater
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2009
- Messages
- 588
- Reaction score
- 67
- Points
- 0
This is another sensitive post that has taken all the courage I could muster to respond to.
In 1994 I lost my Dad to heart disease. He had been ill for almost 25 years so emergency trips to the hospital were very familiar to my family and I. The last time there was concern, but we were very complacent to the event.
It was determined that he would undergo tripple by pass heart surgery, which was to last approximately 5 hours. After 10 hours we were really jittery and scared, and by the 12th hour the Surgeon appeared and told us that some time during recovery he had to be taken back for 2 more by passes. He made it thru recovery, but the anesthesia damaged his brain a bit, not too much, but for 2 or 3 days he made quirky comments and halucinated quite a bit. On the 6th day out of surgery, he and I were having a conversation, and I noticed he could not find a way to lie in bed comfortably. You see they have to break the breast bone to complete the procedure, and the bone knitting back together is arduous and painful. I asked him, "Was it worth it?" His response "N0." That evening I stopped to get something to eat and went to the hospital, and he was sleeping. So I ate my dinner, and did not disturb him. Kissed him on the forehead and went home.
At 10:00AM the next morning, my mom called on my cell, her voice frantic, "Come quick, Daddy..." her voice trailed off.
Seems in memory my sister's and I arrived about the same time and we were quickly ushered into a room walking past where the cardiovascular unit and crash cart were feverishly working to save my father's life. The Dr. came in and bluntly said "We are doing everything we can to save Earl. He signed a DNR (do not resuscitate agreement) and he is fighting very hard, but it is up to him." About 3 minutes later Daddy gave up, and I couldn't blame him. They prepared his body for us quickly, and were were allowed one by one to say goodbye. When it was my turn, he was still warm. I didn't cry, because I knew wishing him alive would be selfish.
To help me dispatch the grief, I eulogized him at his memorial.
What hurt so deeply about loosing Daddy was, we were on a 5 year journey of rediscovery as Father and Son, and we had not completed it. I came out to him at 35, and that is when after all the wasted years, we became the very best frinds father's and son's should always be. That's the sucky part. I miss him every day.
I lost my Mother (her name Peggy) in 2005. We rented a beach house for the week during 4th of July celebration. What a week it was, a freak cold front blew in during one of the hottest months in deep South Texas and it was refreshing. Even the water was blue, very uncommon, since the Gulf Coast is a basin and the water generally is brown and ugly.
In August my Momma called me at work and said she had to go in for some tests, that she had a small tumor they were going to have to remove. Just as always, very matter of fact, not a hint of desperation or being scared.
My sister's and I took turns taking her to the Dr., Imaging Clinics and the like.
In November, Momma called and asked me to take her to yet another imaging clinic, now I work retail, and October thru December are sacrosant, and one is observed as lacking in critical thinking skills were one to even ask for time off, regardless of tenure, but I said no problem. Within the hour, she called back and said a friend of hers insisted she take her, so again I said no problem. That day came and I got a call that help was needed at home, nothing else said. I got my shift covered, and rapidly made my way to her house.
Once I got there (it was cold and pouring down rain) my Momma's friend said, "She cannot walk, you are gonna have to pick her up."
I reached down to pick her up and she was as light as a feather, I scooped her up and took her inside and sat her in her chair. I could tell she was VERY ill, and then they began to tell me exactly what was going on. It appeared since February the same year my Mother had been suffering from chronic diaherrea. I asked her "Mom, why did you not get to the Dr. sooner?". At this point her best friend (whom was also a nurse) told me, "This is a time to be a son, not to make judgements."
I won't go into all the gruesome details but I ended up hospicing her in my home to her dying breath. I think all or at least some gay guys are Momma's boys, and I, the poster child.
I cried everyday from January 1st to March 6th the day God gave her the grace to come home. I cried so hard tears actually spurted straight out of the tear ducts onto the lenses of my glasses. Hard big tears.
Colorectal Cancer is horrible. Nothing about it leaves anyone with any dignity, none whatsoever. During the 3 months we had she was completely lucid, in the moment and just the same Momma I had always had, except the parent had become the child.
She had lost 20% of her body mass by the time she died, and I refused an open casket funeral, to restore her the dignity the disease had stolen.
Once again I eulogized her, to my family, her friends and long time aquaintences. I miss her so much I am crying as I type.
I don't remember where I read the quote but I will paraphrase it "How well one adjusts to the death of a parent is good baramoter to the health and well being of the survivor and adulthood."
Okay, wow that was hard to write, and I've not shared this with anyone. I hope it helps someone. It is carthartic to write, and remember, and love.
Duke
In 1994 I lost my Dad to heart disease. He had been ill for almost 25 years so emergency trips to the hospital were very familiar to my family and I. The last time there was concern, but we were very complacent to the event.
It was determined that he would undergo tripple by pass heart surgery, which was to last approximately 5 hours. After 10 hours we were really jittery and scared, and by the 12th hour the Surgeon appeared and told us that some time during recovery he had to be taken back for 2 more by passes. He made it thru recovery, but the anesthesia damaged his brain a bit, not too much, but for 2 or 3 days he made quirky comments and halucinated quite a bit. On the 6th day out of surgery, he and I were having a conversation, and I noticed he could not find a way to lie in bed comfortably. You see they have to break the breast bone to complete the procedure, and the bone knitting back together is arduous and painful. I asked him, "Was it worth it?" His response "N0." That evening I stopped to get something to eat and went to the hospital, and he was sleeping. So I ate my dinner, and did not disturb him. Kissed him on the forehead and went home.
At 10:00AM the next morning, my mom called on my cell, her voice frantic, "Come quick, Daddy..." her voice trailed off.
Seems in memory my sister's and I arrived about the same time and we were quickly ushered into a room walking past where the cardiovascular unit and crash cart were feverishly working to save my father's life. The Dr. came in and bluntly said "We are doing everything we can to save Earl. He signed a DNR (do not resuscitate agreement) and he is fighting very hard, but it is up to him." About 3 minutes later Daddy gave up, and I couldn't blame him. They prepared his body for us quickly, and were were allowed one by one to say goodbye. When it was my turn, he was still warm. I didn't cry, because I knew wishing him alive would be selfish.
To help me dispatch the grief, I eulogized him at his memorial.
What hurt so deeply about loosing Daddy was, we were on a 5 year journey of rediscovery as Father and Son, and we had not completed it. I came out to him at 35, and that is when after all the wasted years, we became the very best frinds father's and son's should always be. That's the sucky part. I miss him every day.
I lost my Mother (her name Peggy) in 2005. We rented a beach house for the week during 4th of July celebration. What a week it was, a freak cold front blew in during one of the hottest months in deep South Texas and it was refreshing. Even the water was blue, very uncommon, since the Gulf Coast is a basin and the water generally is brown and ugly.
In August my Momma called me at work and said she had to go in for some tests, that she had a small tumor they were going to have to remove. Just as always, very matter of fact, not a hint of desperation or being scared.
My sister's and I took turns taking her to the Dr., Imaging Clinics and the like.
In November, Momma called and asked me to take her to yet another imaging clinic, now I work retail, and October thru December are sacrosant, and one is observed as lacking in critical thinking skills were one to even ask for time off, regardless of tenure, but I said no problem. Within the hour, she called back and said a friend of hers insisted she take her, so again I said no problem. That day came and I got a call that help was needed at home, nothing else said. I got my shift covered, and rapidly made my way to her house.
Once I got there (it was cold and pouring down rain) my Momma's friend said, "She cannot walk, you are gonna have to pick her up."
I reached down to pick her up and she was as light as a feather, I scooped her up and took her inside and sat her in her chair. I could tell she was VERY ill, and then they began to tell me exactly what was going on. It appeared since February the same year my Mother had been suffering from chronic diaherrea. I asked her "Mom, why did you not get to the Dr. sooner?". At this point her best friend (whom was also a nurse) told me, "This is a time to be a son, not to make judgements."
I won't go into all the gruesome details but I ended up hospicing her in my home to her dying breath. I think all or at least some gay guys are Momma's boys, and I, the poster child.
I cried everyday from January 1st to March 6th the day God gave her the grace to come home. I cried so hard tears actually spurted straight out of the tear ducts onto the lenses of my glasses. Hard big tears.
Colorectal Cancer is horrible. Nothing about it leaves anyone with any dignity, none whatsoever. During the 3 months we had she was completely lucid, in the moment and just the same Momma I had always had, except the parent had become the child.
She had lost 20% of her body mass by the time she died, and I refused an open casket funeral, to restore her the dignity the disease had stolen.
Once again I eulogized her, to my family, her friends and long time aquaintences. I miss her so much I am crying as I type.
I don't remember where I read the quote but I will paraphrase it "How well one adjusts to the death of a parent is good baramoter to the health and well being of the survivor and adulthood."
Okay, wow that was hard to write, and I've not shared this with anyone. I hope it helps someone. It is carthartic to write, and remember, and love.
Duke
JonnyFantastico
Super Vip
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2008
- Messages
- 2,539
- Reaction score
- 229
- Points
- 63
First of all, my deepest and strongest condolences go out to all of you. It's hard to share something like this and I wanted to share something from my life as well; although in a sense, it doesn't really fit in here... but it does. I never really talk about it to anyone because it's hard to really express... maybe speaking here will help.
I had a woman I called my "second mother": she was a truly close friend who I grew up with from a young age and truly considered another parent. Her name was Josie and she was... there aren't enough words to express her: beautiful, strong, resilient, funny, emotional, loving... she was everything to me. She was the first person who really knew about my sexuality and never judged me. She was the one I went to when I needed to be comforted. I'm not really close to my own mother and I never knew my father... Mama Josie was my mother and I was her son.
About 8 years ago, we ended up in a huge disagreement over something... it was pretty intense, but nothing that couldn't have been talked over; but I was so angry with her and I knew she was hurt and disappointed with me. I would see her after that and she would turn away from me and it just made me angrier.... why couldn't I speak to her? We were so close; I never left her side... was it so tough for me to go up to her and explain myself? I always wished she would make the first move; to talk to me... about 2 years ago, she did: I had to go into her building for something and she was coming out the elevator and said, "Hello, Jonathan."
The elevator door closed as I went in and I thought, "This is my chance. I should talk to her. I miss her so much..."
I never did. The anger had been replaced by fear. I still couldn't confront her or explain why I did what I did.
(I ended up having a sexual relationship with a man she was close to. I didn't know she was in love with him and by the time I had found out about her feelings, it was too late... and she ended up finding out about him and I first. She had forgiven him but for some reason, I thought she could never forgive me...)
When I saw her that day, she looked well, but something was off... I knew she was dying....
A few years back, she had found out she was HIV-positive. She had nearly suc
bed to the disease early on, but was able to bounce back. This time, she wasn't so lucky: she ended up in the hospital a month or two after that.
I wanted to see her; just to speak to her one more time... even if she was still upset, I could deal with it as long as I was just able to get it all out and tell her how truly sorry I was...
But I couldn't. I still couldn't get the strength to go. I couldn't see her in that condition. I had lost family members to AIDS and I knew that the person I would see would break my heart and she didn't deserve my sympathy in that way. She had always helped me to be strong; to stand on my own. I couldn't turn around and somehow disrespect her in that way.
She died in July of 2008. I never got to speak to her again. A woman I considered my mom... gone. There have been times I have sat alone thinking about her; seeing her pictures; remembering the way she danced and singed and laughed and smiled... and I've cried. I've cried my eyes out until my stomach hurt from the sobbing... I knew she loved me; probably until her last moment because that's who she was... but it doesn't help. She's gone and I'll never get that chance to see her again.
I like to think, in a sense; that she did know how sorry I was.... I wrote a letter to her oldest daughter (who knew of what transpired) and expressed it all; I tore my heart out in it... I apologized, I reminisced... I tried to find a bit of peace with it all. I told her to tell her mother how much I loved her and thanked her for making me the person I am today.
Within 8 hours of writing that letter and sending it off, Mama Josie was gone.
The day of her funeral was emotional... I couldn't face it and ended up not going. I went to a beach with a few friends to take my mind off of things and at one point, in the water; a moment of tranquility washed over me. I glanced behind me and whispered, "I love you" to her... I knew she watches over me and in that moment, I knew she had forgiven me.
I'm sorry; this is all a bit out of sync than my normal replies to threads and I'm sorry for sharing something here that may not fit with that of an actual parent. All I can say is that in time; it never gets better, but you do get to be okay. You have the memories with a smile. You look at the pictures with more of a thoughtful look than a painful one. You remember the good times. You remember the love... and that's probably the most beautiful thing ever.
I miss my Mama Josie and will for the rest of my life. :heart:
I had a woman I called my "second mother": she was a truly close friend who I grew up with from a young age and truly considered another parent. Her name was Josie and she was... there aren't enough words to express her: beautiful, strong, resilient, funny, emotional, loving... she was everything to me. She was the first person who really knew about my sexuality and never judged me. She was the one I went to when I needed to be comforted. I'm not really close to my own mother and I never knew my father... Mama Josie was my mother and I was her son.
About 8 years ago, we ended up in a huge disagreement over something... it was pretty intense, but nothing that couldn't have been talked over; but I was so angry with her and I knew she was hurt and disappointed with me. I would see her after that and she would turn away from me and it just made me angrier.... why couldn't I speak to her? We were so close; I never left her side... was it so tough for me to go up to her and explain myself? I always wished she would make the first move; to talk to me... about 2 years ago, she did: I had to go into her building for something and she was coming out the elevator and said, "Hello, Jonathan."
The elevator door closed as I went in and I thought, "This is my chance. I should talk to her. I miss her so much..."
I never did. The anger had been replaced by fear. I still couldn't confront her or explain why I did what I did.
(I ended up having a sexual relationship with a man she was close to. I didn't know she was in love with him and by the time I had found out about her feelings, it was too late... and she ended up finding out about him and I first. She had forgiven him but for some reason, I thought she could never forgive me...)
When I saw her that day, she looked well, but something was off... I knew she was dying....
A few years back, she had found out she was HIV-positive. She had nearly suc
bed to the disease early on, but was able to bounce back. This time, she wasn't so lucky: she ended up in the hospital a month or two after that.I wanted to see her; just to speak to her one more time... even if she was still upset, I could deal with it as long as I was just able to get it all out and tell her how truly sorry I was...
But I couldn't. I still couldn't get the strength to go. I couldn't see her in that condition. I had lost family members to AIDS and I knew that the person I would see would break my heart and she didn't deserve my sympathy in that way. She had always helped me to be strong; to stand on my own. I couldn't turn around and somehow disrespect her in that way.
She died in July of 2008. I never got to speak to her again. A woman I considered my mom... gone. There have been times I have sat alone thinking about her; seeing her pictures; remembering the way she danced and singed and laughed and smiled... and I've cried. I've cried my eyes out until my stomach hurt from the sobbing... I knew she loved me; probably until her last moment because that's who she was... but it doesn't help. She's gone and I'll never get that chance to see her again.
I like to think, in a sense; that she did know how sorry I was.... I wrote a letter to her oldest daughter (who knew of what transpired) and expressed it all; I tore my heart out in it... I apologized, I reminisced... I tried to find a bit of peace with it all. I told her to tell her mother how much I loved her and thanked her for making me the person I am today.
Within 8 hours of writing that letter and sending it off, Mama Josie was gone.
The day of her funeral was emotional... I couldn't face it and ended up not going. I went to a beach with a few friends to take my mind off of things and at one point, in the water; a moment of tranquility washed over me. I glanced behind me and whispered, "I love you" to her... I knew she watches over me and in that moment, I knew she had forgiven me.
I'm sorry; this is all a bit out of sync than my normal replies to threads and I'm sorry for sharing something here that may not fit with that of an actual parent. All I can say is that in time; it never gets better, but you do get to be okay. You have the memories with a smile. You look at the pictures with more of a thoughtful look than a painful one. You remember the good times. You remember the love... and that's probably the most beautiful thing ever.
I miss my Mama Josie and will for the rest of my life. :heart:
mrduke
Not a hater
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2009
- Messages
- 588
- Reaction score
- 67
- Points
- 0
Thank you Jonny. It fits. Perfectly. I am sorry for your loss, and praise your being a man about it. She's knows, and she is watching, I had two mother's as well, they came within months of each other when they passed. I could only attend one as the thought and pain were sitll so very tender. I am howver in cloes contact with her immediate familly and they understand why I could not attend the service.
Thanks Buddy!
Duke
Thanks Buddy!
Duke
reading all of this really does move me, my parents always argued and eventually seperated when i was a kid, im 21 now and living with my siblings and mum and my dad drifts in and out regurlarly, i dunno......theyve argued so much that the divorce didnt really affect me, maybe because i always tried to stop it. atleast i have my parents. my deepest condolence for all of you
