Sometimes the end is just a different beginning. For my Mom, the end of her earthly existence is the beginning of her heavenly life with my Dad and all her other loved ones that have passed before her, especially her Daddy. Having passed away tragically when she was just 20, she missed him immensely all her life. If you asked her the what the best part of her childhood was she would tell you “playing in the yard with Daddy.” This is a girl that had a pet raccoon, a pet
monkey and a pet rat (appropriately named rat-rat), who lived in Hyde Park of Austin, went on numerous vacations and had wonderful friends that played dress up and had doll tea parties with her. Seems idyllic. But things aren’t always as they seem and life became harsh when her Dad died (and probably before due to his manic depressive disorder). She never got along particularly well with her own mother and my Dad provided a much needed escape and the security to live her own life.
Early love letters are filled with “darlings” and “dears.” They were two halves of a whole and couldn’t live without each other. Dad understood Mom in the way that most men understand women. She needed love, patience, a strong shoulder to cry on and security and he gave that to her and so much more. Early pictures of married life show a very happy couple and a gorgeous woman that I can’t even believe is my Mom – she just glowed – but always with a tinge of sadness in her eyes and way of being. Just a tinge. She was very private and wasn’t going to share her emotions with everyone.
In a way, they never did have to learn to live without each other. As Mom’s condition worsened she forgot who people were, and while she recognized me the longest, after Dad died she never asked for him. Out of sight and out of mind…. sad to say but that’s the truth, or she didn’t have the words to wonder where he was, which is a distinct possibility but one that I don’t dwell on because it hurts too much to allow it. I prefer to think that she truly didn’t remember him after his death. She was so fragile at that time that we never told her he died. The day before Mom passed I kept telling her that Dad was waiting for her, that he was there before her and needed her with him now. I didn’t want her to somehow be “waiting” for him, needing to hear his voice one last time. I didn’t know how much she understood, if anything, but I felt it was important to let her know he was there, waiting to dance with her again.
Dad couldn’t handle living without Mom, either. I remember asking him once if he would be able to try and go on without her after she passed, and he wouldn’t even contemplate it. He just said “I’ll try.” He didn’t want her to go into a care home, because even though she was angry and bitter (and scared) due to the disease – this was the year before she went into the memory care facility – at least she was THERE, with him. And not having her in the house with him was incredibly difficult for my Dad. I think the cancer was a blessing for him, because they literally were only truly apart for 18 months before being reunited in heaven. He didn’t want to live on without her, and he didn’t have to.
If Mom hadn’t had Alzheimer’s (and I’m not saying it was a blessing) – she would have had to try to live without him. She was a very strong woman, but she couldn’t make it without her man. So God must have done what he felt best. That’s the way I have to look at everything that has happened in the past four years.
Is it the end for me too? It’s the end of suffering for my parents’ sake. It is the end of worry and stress and advocating on their behalf. These past four years have been the hardest of my life. I am all cried out. My eyes are as dry as a desert in Mexico. As people filed in and said goodbye to Mom, there were plenty of red eyes, sniffles and tears. And I was jealous. I wanted to cry, to rant, to rage, to weep and to bawl. But I can’t. I am numb. My grief has been spent over four long
years and while maybe I should feel some relief at last, relief that my Mom’s suffering is at an end, and for my Dad – that they are together again, I don’t. I don’t feel a thing. I must get all the last bits done for them. There’s a visitation to be held, a service and a burial. There’s banks to call, and the Army to inform. There’s my house to clean and food to cook for after the visitation.
There’s her room to clean out. There’s so much to do. I am not done yet.
I listened to songs this morning in my car. Songs that have made me cry in the past. Songs I can really relate to. Nothing. No tears. No lump in the throat. I am not without feelings. But what I feel most right now is just…. empty.
A new beginning is waiting for me. When it will start, I am not sure. When my heart fills back up again, maybe. When my Mom is in her final resting place with my Dad, maybe. When I see the headstone for the first time, maybe. I do not know what the future holds for me now. It’s time to reinvent myself, in their honor, and with their undying love for me and each other, to step up
once again and become me again.
This end is just a different beginning
