Today is one of those anniversaries you really don’t want to happen. Ten years ago my father lost his battle with lung cancer.
I was in my 40’s when he passed and living 1,500 miles away I saw him about once a year and we called every week or two. Although I was more attentive due to his diagnosis the last couple of years, he was always positive so I didn’t feel like time was running out.
The first year was hard but it got easier in subsequent years and I thought my grieving for dad was long in the past.
A Wound Reopens
This 10 year mark seems to have exposed a wound long hidden by a scab. I don’t know if it was the loss of my mom recently or the fact that it’s been a decade. Maybe a little of both.
As the date approached I felt it starting to weigh on my mind. My emotions began welling up with sadness, loss and wondering how the heck I would get through the day without mom’s shoulder to lean on.
You see, Mom was traveled across country to be with her children when our dad was on his deathbed. She stayed with us for two weeks just providing that quiet support. Her strength made the experience bearable even though it was the biggest loss of our lives.
This time she’s not here to give me that strength and I am already reeling from losing her.
Remembrance
For the first time, flowers from me will delivered to Dad’s grave site. I’ve never felt the need other than when visiting in person before. I had no idea how to accomplish it until I sent an email.
Who knew that there’s a florist who will place the bouquet at his grave and email the sender a photo? Well, my brother did and revealed he had been sending flowers regularly for years.
It’s also a day off for me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my thoughts and focus on my work. Instead it’s a day to remember dad’s life and why he’s loved and missed. This time I’ll also think about the other person I’m missing.
It’s a day of remembrance.
My Dad smoked himself to death 14 years ago. Technically, he died of congestive heart failure, but he had emphysema so bad he couldn’t even walk up a flight of stairs. He died way too young and I really miss him. I wish he hadn’t done that to himself. But, he always seems present in my character and my compassion.
Bret, thank you for your thoughtful comment and I’m sorry to hear you lost your dad. You’re right that our parents will always be with us. So much of who I am is because of them.
My parents died one year apart almost to the day about ten years ago. And as crazy as they were (and yes, they WERE), I do miss them. I think of how much they would love seeing all of their great grandchildren, and be amazed at how grown my sons are. I feel them around me every once in a while, and that is comforting. My thoughts are with you.
Mindy, one of my sisters says she feels mom around her. I haven’t yet. I can’t imagine having to lose parents so close together and yet I know it happens. My husband lost his mom four months after my dad passed away and now his dad is not doing so well healthwise with six hospitalizations this year alone. He’s our last parent so we feel sometimes like it would be saying good-bye to all of them.
I’m in the process of losing my dad as he fights dementia and heart disease. He is only 400 miles away, and yet, I feel like it’s a continent. I’m so sorry for your loss…and hope you find an opportunity in the midst of sadness to rejoice in the lives that nurtured you for so many years.
Debi, I’m so sorry you’re going through this challenging time. As you can tell from the comments, it’s something that touches you forever. Hugs and prayers for you and your family.
I have a dear friend who lost his father close to when I lost mine. When we get together we share a glass of cognac and cigar, and we both feel closer to the ones we lost.
Kay Lynn, when my mother died after my father that is exactly what I said to my friends – that I was an orphan. No one understands how it feels until you have lost both parents – no matter what the age.
Audrey, that sounds like a great way to share memories of loved ones we’ve lost. I wouldn’t do the cigar but a drink, definitely!
I never heard the term “adult orphan” until it happened to me. That’s absolutely how I feel.
I am sorry for your loss. I think some wounds are never meant to completely heal. I miss my mother, and I find that I miss her more the longer she is gone. At the time she died I just wanted her suffering to be over, so I was almost relieved when she passed. But now I wish she were here, healthy and strong. When I think about her I don’t think about the sick her; I think about the well her that would make me laugh and tell me how proud she is of me.
I’m glad you sent those flowers. We finally scattered my mom’s ashes this summer and I love to look at the mountain and think that she’s up there looking down on us. Soon the mountain will be covered with snow, but next summer I will go up there to spend some time with her enjoying her marvelous view with her.
Chloe, thanks so much. I know we talked about the subject at the B(l)oomers party and I appreciated your words then as well. I am finally starting to realize that I will never heal totally.
One thing my mom did not do is share how she felt about losing her mom. It might have helped to know it’s something that never goes away. But then again, I might not have been receptive if she tried.
Add me to the boat, it has been 4 years since I lost my dad to cancer and my mom years before that.. an orphan at 41… I am not sure others understand. Some years are harder, some easier. My thoughts are with you.
Maddie
Maddie, it sucks being an adult orphan but no one talks about it. Sorry for both your losses. This part of life sucks!
I lost my Dad five years ago to the evil black widow-Cancer–as well. Not a day goes by I don’t think if him. Don’t fight your memories.
Brenda, I’m sorry to hear you also lost your father to the Big C. Thank you for the great advice about not fighting the feelings. That’s why I decided to take timeout today to just let it be.