Monday, April 14, 2008

Dread

The day will come, when I make my every-other-year flight home to see Mom and Dad, when the silver streaks now in their hair will have become monochrome.

The day will come when their strength will be gone.

The day will come when I have to say goodbye.

Yes, it's a very depressing thought, but I believe it is normal for someone my age, first as an unpleasant whisper of possibility when I was a child, then more and more insistent with each passing year, today almost unbearably loud within my soul.

We all feel a little wistful sadness when a little one outgrows babyhood, and when the cute preteen becomes a gangly and independence-seeking adolescent, and when the adolescent moves away from home. But we also feel joy in each of those moments, for it represents maturation, progress, not decline.

I feel no joy in reminders of mortality writ upon the faces of the parents that I love.

4 comments:

Foster Communications said...

There is no way to prepare for this kind of loss. And it really doesn't get easier. I loved my mom with my whole heart and don't regret a thing. Nothing was left unsaid. It has been nearly 10 years. It is not easier.

eastcoastdweller said...

You are blessed to be able to say that, Foster C.

Rebecca said...

I second what Jessica said. There is no way to prepare for the loss of a parent. It has been over 4 years since my father died. I do have some regrets some of which I have made peace with. But there are moments when I am hit by an emotional wave that takes my breath away. I don't expect that will ever go away. Say everything. Ask questions. Get answers where you need to or where you can. Laugh. Hug. Share every joy. Leave yourself no what ifs.

Janice Thomson said...

I see the same in my Dad - he is 88. The one consolation is that he has had a wonderful life and his going will ease the pain he suffers now.