Good Grief

Missing my parents became a part of my everyday life the day each of them left this planet.

In the beginning the grief was shockingly painful. I did not know that I could be so miserable. Each of their deaths affected me differently.

When my mom died. I felt such a deep loss of love. It was like something in my chest had been removed and the wound was left vulnerable and open. I remembering telling a spiritual advisor the week we found out she was sick that I had a sick feeling in my gut that was constant and unwavering. She said, "Honey, you just better make friends with that feeling, because it isn't going anywhere anytime soon." That was 15 years ago and it still lays inside me rather dormant. It is roused now and then and I feel it yearning for a hug from the mother that took such good care of me and my siblings. With all her flaws, I truly believe that from the day she gave birth to my older brother until the day she died, her number one priority was the well-being of her children. Being childless, I can not imagine possessing a selflessness like that. Her techniques and living skills were far less than perfect I imagine, but her love and concern was complete. The grief I feel today is nothing compared to the beginning, but it it still there. I miss her smile, how soft her cheek was when it was kissed and how much I felt loved.

My dad's passing was different. I had been changed by my mom's death. I was no longer a virgin to the feelings a loss like that brings. I was older and had also been through a number of other intensely life-altering experiences. With my dad's passing though, a completely different set of feelings arose. The loss I felt with his passing was the loss of security, family and again love. I never doubted my dad's love for his children. I don't think he actually liked us much, and I know we often annoyed him. But watching how everything we kids went through affected him on such a deep level, I knew he loved us to his core. Even though most of his life at home with us was spent in an easy chair with Jack Daniels and the television, he consistently provided us with a deep feeling of safety and security. He was always there for us. He always provided for us.

He was there when my mom needed to declare martial law to keep order in the house, and he was there for medical emergencies. After my mother died, he did try to step in and do a little of what my mom did for us. We were adults by then. Everything was different after she was gone and filling those shoes was impossible, but he tried. He tried to talk. He began to let a little of his feelings show. He tried to show his concern.

I guess that If I really, really believed to my innermost self that there was life after death, I would not feel loss. I would just feel anticipation. If I stop and think about an afterlife, I do get a little excited. What I think most about is what their faces would look like. I imagine smiles free of any traces of stress, pain or angst. The faces of my parents beautifully peaceful and happy. No worries.

There would be no greater reward in heaven than to see that.

Miss you Joyce and Jerry.

Hold that thought...

James