I texted my friends: There is no room at all for my feelings with the kids here. They were all sympathetic, but they reminded me that it was important for my children to be there. Even if they weren’t super close to your dad, it’s their first experience with death. They need to be able to witness it and say goodbye. I knew this was true. Still, I kept wishing that I could be cared for, instead of having to be a caregiver. I didn’t want to have to be a parent while I buried my father; I only wanted to be a grieving daughter.
