Mourning

When my father died, everyone told me (those who have lost a parent), several things with much repetition on certain themes. The first year is the hardest. Grief comes in waves. Sadness will hit you out of the blue and take your breath away. Losing a parent sucks and your life will never be the same again. I was told I am lucky to have adored my father and that he was a good man.

So far so good on all of those. Blithely organizing papers I find the folder with the receipts from his caregivers for the last month of his life. Suddenly I am weeping, weeping - just seeing his name on the paperwork.

Obviously one’s parents cannot live forever. But for my whole life he had been there - which is a facet of forever from my perspective. To lose one who has defined my life in so many ways - whether it be living up to, or rebelling against, or wanting to impress, or wanting him to be proud of me, all of it gone. Suddenly that container has vanished and all I bounce against are memories. I feel myself stretching into places that never existed before - which must be what they mean when they (those they theys, hehe) that one only becomes an adult when one’s parents are gone.

The rough part about mourning my father is that my mother without him needs more attention than I anticipated - quite naively, in retrospect. She lost her partner of 45 years during a pandemic that isolated her from society - not a good combo. The tempering that my father did of her more exuberant eccentricities is gone. The practical memory help that he offered her on a daily basis is gone. The company that he gave to her (even in his diminished state of mental acuity) is gone.

So, daily caregivers to make sure she is eating and taking her meditations. Adult day program for socialization with her peers. Signing up for a communication strategy webinar with the Alzheimer’s Association. A deep breath as I navigate this new facet of our relationship and life.

I am mourning my father and I am mourning the mental decline of my mother. Dad’s family would always talk about whether you would rather go from the top down (mental first) or the bottom up (physical first). I choose a bus. Fast and hard and painless.