I just submitted a 2,000 words essay to a university press. The theme for the proposed book is adult children parenting parents. Writing my story was heart-wrenching and cathartic: about my step-dad's dementia and my mother's death and then one more shocking event.
Two months after my mom died, on what would have been her birthday, my step-brother called and said he was sorry. I said I was sorry too; I missed my mom. Then he dropped the bombshell. He was sorry to tell me his dad who had fallen and broken his hip had died. My healing heart was ripped open again and the pain was like a seemingly endless piece of yarn pulled from a sweater. I wondered when it would ever end.
Two years later as we approach my step-dad's birthday, I realize that dealing with the end of our parents' lives, was like them dealing with the beginning of ours: we all did the best that we knew how, and at some point, whether or not we were aware, our tears comingled just from the helplessness of the situations we endured. The best we can do is take one day at a time. Healing begins with forgiveness.
1 comment:
That's the greatest truth there is.
And the hardest thing ever to fully achieve!
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