Memories of Max - A Father's Story

Chapter 15 - Phoenix

What helped me climb back and what stopped me from doing so earlier? Neither of these questions is easy to answer. There are actions which I have taken that would probably be disputed by the professionals. Throughout Max's illnesses I did what was intuitive, I did what felt right at the time. There was no model, no training, and we all had to feel our way. It served us well and I did the same during my grieving for Max. There is no-one who can tell you the 'best' thing to do. There is no prescriptive solution to bereavement. It is a natural process which requires patience, determination and lots and lots of time. It is not prescriptive because we all have different beliefs, cultures, and needs. What helps one person may be useless for another.

Should Sara and I have separated so soon after Max's death? In our case I think it was the best thing we could have done. We both needed to come to terms with his death. It took me two years but in the end I was able to vent all my grief and I reconciled myself with his death.

I felt that I had lost everything and cared for nothing anymore. I wanted a clean sweep, a totally new start. This can be achieved but should not be underestimated. I left my home, family and my previous life was swept into oblivion. I also intended to leave my job. Fortunately this did not happen. Looking back I question if I could have survived a complete break from my former life.

Reliving another child's cancer during my bereavement was one of those odd and weird coincidences which occur in our lives. In the process of trying to cope with Max's death, I became involved in watching the death of another child. This was very detrimental to the healing process and contributed significantly to my depression. This is just one of those unexpected random arrows. There was no way that I could or would have wanted to avoid the situation once it had been presented.

A factor which certainly did not help was sinking deeper and deeper into a pool of alcohol. Many nights I would sit alone at home and get quietly drunk. It helped numb the pain and the ever increasing loneliness which had started to creep up on me. I knew it was happening and generally didn't care. When I did care, I just kidded myself that it didn't matter. Although I drank to blank out the pain, it helped neither my self esteem nor my depression.

What helped me climb back? My determination to survive and obtain something meaningful from Max's death was very important. To everyone who knew me during my grieving I was unbearably pessimistic about everything around me. Privately though this was not the case.

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