A little trapped between two worlds. That’s what it feels like to me. I know they are in Heaven. I can feel the comfort, the security of that. And it helps greatly to fill the void they left. They died 43 days apart, Dad on August 19 and Mom on October 2. Of course we knew it was coming with both of them being in their 90’s.
As I held Dad’s hand and listened to his labored breathing I was aware again of the immense weight of a soul. It’s the one thing that can only be measured and felt once it is gone. Death is a mystery. One minute there is a living breathing person full of ideas, thoughts, personality, whose DNA you share. The next minute the person they were is one hundred percent gone.
It was a blessing to be there when Dad passed. We almost made it for Mom, but between the time we got the phone call and the time we got in the car enroute, they called again. But we were able to hold her hand when it was still warm and say our final goodbyes. Dad had a wonderful celebration of life and I had a brunch for Mom and many of her dear friends. I could tell they were so very thankful to be able to gather in their home and share stories about Mom. Closure is needed in times like this. As Dolly Parton said in Steel Magnolias, “Laughter through tears in my favorite emotion.” And there were plenty of both.
I have been thinking more about eternity. With so much going on in the past 6 years it’s been all about stifling emotions and just getting through each day. Some things I still can’t unsee. I still remember the panic seeing the ambulance and firetrucks at the house when I rounded the corner. And to see Dad on the bedroom floor bleeding from the head……ever since then we’ve been on autopilot. Dad in the hospital, then navigating the healthcare system over admission into the Carehome. Then Mom with Alzheimer’s suddenly without Dad for the first time in 71 years.
In the process we got a wonderful caregiver part-time for Mom. Jo was so good for Mom and I gained a friend. Mom’s whole world changed and she spent every day trying to navigate the maze in her mind, and figure out her life in segments of what would happen next. She was so very fearful, but she loved seeing me every day. I made a vow to take her flowers every week so she could enjoy them. We had our Saturday date nights together. I gave her food and wine. Sometimes a martini. And she would fuss when I wanted to sit out in the dark before bed.
After some terrible falls and incidents we checked her in the same Care-home Dad was in and she was able to go see him several times before he passed. She got great care and we were able to breathe a bit. She was able to attend Dad’s Memorial which was a blessing. Staff and nurses at her facility said after that day, though, Mom changed. Even with Alzheimer’s I think it really sunk in that Dad was truly gone.
She followed him to Heaven just 43 days later.
And we are catching our breath. Slowly going through the house. I gave each of the ladies a piece of Mom to take home. I wrapped up her figurines and handed them each a bag on their way out. And the other day I remember when Dad and I went to the show and saw an awful movie called “Stanley” about a rattlesnake. Dad hated snakes and I’m not why he took 12 year old me. But now I just think of that day and smile.
O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
— 1 Corinthians 15:55-57