Before my dad died, I told my sisters that even though we now knew death, we would feel something entirely different with his passing---something we couldn't then anticipate or know. I was right. I could not have imagined the pain of this medley of loss before being wrecked by it. The wound of my mom is wide open. My dad’s death is just becoming real. And we are readying to sell my childhood home, the symbol of everything I knew for sure during the first 30 years of my life.
Now I know nothing for sure.
People say they will accomplish certain things in their “next life.” It feels now like I am in a tidal wave of death and endings and that in my next life I'll be a person without parents.
I am writing this on a folding chair on the balcony off my parents' bedroom, looking down the lawn out to the river. The birds are so loud and active---all of them in pairs. Parents everywhere. I never noticed how many different greens there are in this yard as the spring trees bloom.
When I finish up here, I will return to their bedroom---my area of focus for today’s cleaning. The room where during my mom’s illness, I fell asleep beside her on the bed. The room where I ran her baths and while she soaked, cleaned and organized her closet. Now the closet is empty of her and full only of my father. I am sorting through him.
I’ve been trying on some of his button down shirts. As a kid, I didn’t dress up in my mom’s fanciest skirts and necklaces. I sifted through their closet and donned my dad’s hats and pants and ties. Now I am hugging his sweaters as I go, wishing I would have released myself into his hugs more when he was alive. I keep having to sit down on the footstool to cry into the sleeves of his red fleece coat.
There is too much going on to even keep track of, let alone write about. I’ve never wanted to hit pause more than I do right now. Things are moving too quickly for comprehension.
All I know for certain is that this pain and sadness feel bottomless.
If I can return here, I will.
If I can’t, well, I know you’ll understand.
Thank you all for your kindness and support.
