When my father unexpectedly became ill a few weeks ago, I was nearly paralyzed with fear that this would be “it.” After all, he is 80, so it wouldn’t be unheard of for him to have a health problem that resulted in his death. I’ve been telling myself for the last 20 years that, at least from a medical perspective, I need to prepare myself for the unexpected. Sadly, it turns out that I’m not prepared at all.
Death at my parents’ ages is, well, more expected than at any younger age, isn’t it? It was unexpected when a classmate was killed in a car accident during our junior year in high school. It was unexpected when my thirty-something neighbor, the mother of two young boys, came out the loser in a battle with cancer. It was unexpected when a dear friend died of breast cancer when she was just 25 years old. It was unexpected when the father of one of Nick’s friends committed suicide in the family’s garage.
It’s not unexpected for people to die when they are in their 80′s. If they are extremely lucky, they will continue celebrating life for at least another decade. I become very childlike when I start to think about these things. As far as I’m concerned, I want my parents to live forever.
There may be some positives in terms of estate planning and choosing your own casket or urn, but it the big scheme of things, I rather put that burden on my loved ones.
I was blasted with a tidal wave of emotions when I saw my father strapped to a gurney and wheeled out of his house to the waiting ambulance, tubes inserted, monitors attached, and lights blinking the fragile state of his life to the attending paramedics. It occurred to me just how lucky I am to still have my parents with me here on this blue planet. And I wondered what made them different from the parents of many of my friends and family members who lived far shorter lives.
There aren’t any easy answers. And when it comes to people of similar health, lifestyles and social backgrounds, it seems like the decision for who goes and who stays is pretty random. And that, perhaps, is the scariest thought of all. Then again, I can’t say I’d want to know a firm date in advance for the demise of myself and my family members. There may be some positives in terms of estate planning and choosing your own casket or urn, but it the big scheme of things, I rather put that burden on my loved ones. If there are any left to care about my final resting place or celebrate my life at my funeral. I often worry that no one will show up at my funeral, so maybe I just ought to nix it right now and prevent my family members from the embarrassing revelation that in the end, no one really loved me or even liked me enough to say a proper goodbye at a memorial service.
My father has recovered, my mother remains in good health, and it seems I have dodged another bullet, at least for the time being. Although I like to consider myself an attentive daughter, it is clear that I need to spend much more time with my parents, soaking up the details of their lives, gleaning wisdom and insight from their life experiences, and just hugging them and holding them and letting them know how much I love them. They already know these things, but it never hurts to show them and tell them again.
Because the crazy thing about death is that you never know when it’s going to happen.
It is never easy. I lost my dad quickly to cancer in about 6 weeks. It was almost 6 years ago, but my grief is fresh every Fathers Day. His funeral was the day after and is still painful for me. I think it starts around Memorial Day and ends after Father’s Day.
You are right to appreciate your parents while you can. But don’t stop there. Make a point of telling all your loved ones how much they mean to you, whenever you can. Because you never know…
I watched my dad have open heart surgery 22 years ago when it wasn’t very commonplace. Then he had to have part of a lung removed because of cancer 4 years later. It seems like he was diagnosed with melanoma a year after that. You can never be ready. Even when I knew the end was near, I couldn’t prepare myself mentally. Enjoy your parents now. Don’t fret about the whens and hows.
I don’t know what to say, except yes, ditto, to all of it.
My own parents have always been very healthy & outdoorsy. At nearly 75 they each have active lives. Yesterday mom sent me photos of a hike she took, so it is hard to imagine the inevitable, & like you, I can’t fathom it.
Are you an only child? I am the oldest, in charge of whatever comes our way. There is no team spirit, just…me.
It’s like reading my own fears. Maybe, it’s universal. I don’t know. I know, having passed “the middle” that our life-line looks much more real. I too spend more time with my parents than I did in years past. Just last week I grabbed my mom’s arm as she stepped off the sidewalk. She looked at me like I was nuts. I couldn’t help it. It’s terrifying.
Thank you for writing this. I think what you’ve written is much more universal than you imagine.
love, debra. xo
Spend the time with them now as surely you will regret it for the rest of your life that you did not. guilt is a terrible thing to haul around
I know this, at first, sounds terribly selfish. But I’m just speaking from the heart:
I’m am a bit young to have lost my father, but…well, I’m only a bit south of middle age (at which time the loss of parents starts to become more of an impending occurrence). While losing parent in one’s childhood is one of the cruelest of all fates, losing a parent as an adult brings forth many emotions that are often far beyond the obvious. It left me feeling in ways that I really didn’t see coming…not in the least in which was the way it made me a lot more aware of my own mortality. Parents get old…and their kids get old. Everything follows suit.
So, when my dad died, I went through a bit of a (albeit, premature) midlife crisis. I suppose that sounds a bit self-centered…and I felt self-centered for feeling the way I did.
This was exacerbated by the fact that my father–an alcoholic with whom I had shared a rather tumultuous relationship with–took ill very fast and was dead within four months of his diagnosis, leaving us very little time to sort through our feelings and say some of the things that I wish we had been able to say. We hadn’t spoken in about six months before he called and asked me to take him to the V.A. Hospital. From then on, I became his full-time caretaker–but most of what we concerned ourselves with were the practical issues of his care. Also adding to the mix of emotions was the shame that I felt: my life was, in fact, in shambles. And however much anger, bitterness, and blame I had thrown at my father for the discourse my life was in–I still felt that I had let him down just as much as I felt he had let me down. Ironically, I had just returned to school, and my life was on the mend. Dad knew I was back in school, but it would have been nice if he had been able to see me graduate and get on with my life.
So when he died, I mourned–but not just for him. I mourned for all the time I had squandered, the dreams I had let go of, the successes I had not yet achieved, and (most of all)…
…the chance to have made my father proud. So, I suppose my feelings aren’t entirely selfish or self-centered. But I still have trouble coming to terms with the fact that the death of my father brought about a rebirth of sorts within myself.
So, yeah–the death of a parent is truly a turning point in one’s life…and in a lot more ways than I had ever imagined.
I feel for you and I agree. I also am afraid to talk about the subject.
That is the truth of it, you never know when it will happen. But I am so there with you, I can’t even think about losing my parents. My dad has always been my hero. My mom is one of my best friends.
But I think you have the best idea, spend time with them, tell them you love them. Be with them. That is the best you can do.
xo
Brave and sincere writing. I ache for you. I like that you are taking the lessons learned to make this precious time, the best that you can give. I admire that you are so very appreciative of what you have.
Darling, Your Mom & Dad must feel so blessed to have you. their beautiful daughter.
love to you & your family.