To get to my age and have both my parents still living is a gift I never took for granted. But it was not until my Dad's death last week that the true impact of my good fortune really hit home. I have spent a good deal of my adulthood talking about the death of my daughter and the loss of my future that event represented to me, but I am now feeling what many others have felt before me -- a sense of losing my past.
I believe it is wrong to compare losses or try to debate which one is "worse," so I won't even go there. Pain is pain, and when you are hurting, it doesn't matter what the cause is, it hurts. It also doesn't matter whether someone has felt a similar pain before you or how many blessings the life that is lost may have brought you. During those moments of grief, it hurts bad.
To be honest, I thought I was somewhat prepared for this loss, and to a degree maybe I was. A parent's death fits more into the scheme of how life evolves so I guess that from that standpoint it was something I knew would likely happen at some point. What I did not anticipate is the emptiness that comes from knowing that someone you have counted on your whole life is no longer a phone call away. My Dad's death came after a brief illness, but we did know the last week of his life that he was dying, so we had some time to bring closure. It was a treasured time that I did everything in my power to avoid, because I did not want to be confronted with having to say goodbye. Now that it's over and I can look back, I know it was the right thing for me to do and I'm glad the decision was not totally left to fate.
Rather than ramble on, I will just say that even after all my talking and preaching about the importance of "being there" and the lessons I tell others Kathleen's death taught me, I still did a lot of the same avoiding I did 25 years ago. I could even get real down on myself for that, but instead I am going to concentrate on the fact that, in the end, I stepped outside my comfort zone and did what I knew I would regret not doing. That feels good, and I have Kathleen to thank.
The lessons just keep on coming............
I'm so sorry to hear that your father died Tim. and don't be too hard on yourself for not 'getting everything right' and avoiding things. you're only human. it's hard to do what we need to do sometimes.ReplyDelete
thinking of you.
I am so sorry about the loss of your father. No matter how long our parents are we are never ready to say goodbye. I will be praying for peace in your heart. ((HUGS))ReplyDelete
I'm sorry for your loss.ReplyDelete
Thank you everyone.ReplyDelete
I'm sorry too,and I agree my little girl has only been in heaven for two years,and I was a mother before she was born,but she taught me to love more,as if there may not be a tomorrow so love as much as you can everyday.ReplyDelete
Please allow me to offer my condolences on the loss of your father. I agree completely that pain is pain and to compare which is worse would be difficult to do.ReplyDelete
A really profound post, Tim. I am sorry to read (belatedly) of your Dad's passing. To compare degrees of grief is so futile. Yet, so many people seem to need to (especially regarding pregnancy/infant loss), don't they?ReplyDelete