How To Cope And Be A Parent When You Lose A Parent
A cold winter day...
My father died. I will always remember the evening I first bought groceries for our new home. It was about one week before Christmas, and I was driving back from the store. My mommy-van was full of food, my heater was blasting warm air at my face, and it was then that the snow began to fall. On the long winding roads my van hummed along and in front and all around me were millions of little snowflakes falling and falling, one after the other.
As I drove into them, my headlights illuminated each one to a point of magnificent clarity. I was viewing a wondrous scene while at the same moment my father was experiencing his last days. Hooked up to machines that were replicating tasks for him that his body was unwillingly relinquishing control of.
I was so absolutely sure he was hoping against hope that if he focused harder and clearer he could will himself still here and soon home, watching TV, talking with his children, simply enjoying time itself. But it would not be. How is it that I am allowed to view a glorious shimmering evening in December and he is at the end of his life? The guilt was too much. I felt so sorry for him. My heart resented life, just as he was striving to hold onto it.
Find the voice inside...
I miss my Daddy terribly and cannot fathom that Death would introduce itself to me personally with the taking of my father. I do not feel sorry for myself though I do feel punished. God knew how much I loved that man. A message lies within the taking of my father. Intended or not, but I fear I have missed the point. Is it that I really can't control life? I could not change the outcome of this rendezvous with life. At 35, I look back and cringe at how much of my life I have been trying so hard to affect and for naught. The awesome absence of his presence is unbearable at times. The horror of him being gone.
Is it now that I must truly grow up? As long as he was here, I remained that special being I never really believed I was. With his death, I lose the two: Daddy and who his loved inspired me to be. How do we hold onto the love we feel from our parents when they are no longer here to actually and physically give it to you? How do we maintain that feeling of being special, and allow it to motivate us into accomplishing those things we always want, but never seem able to do?
To believe in our own specialty, I would guess, is the only way. Finding our own individual voice in all its uniqueness within ourselves, just as our parents saw it all along. And in that, maybe you never really loose anyone's love that was so dear to you, for they gave it in you.