For my whole life, okay, for the entirety of my memory, I have known death is part of the life cycle. My logical mind computes that fact just fine. We are born, we live our life (hopefully well and as good people) and then we die.
Death means a lot of different things for all of us. I believe in an after-life. I’m not entirely certain of what that after-life will be. None of us are. Rainbows and unicorns, vast fields of daisies… Traipsing along the clouds playing angel games. Or maybe it’s deep dark caverns of nothingness. I choose to believe the happier side of things. I choose to believe I will see everyone all happy and healthy, restored to their finest condition when I cross over to the other side of life.
But even with that belief, the idea of losing BOTH my parents in a relatively short time remains a bleak and extremely sad reality.
My parents have lived full lives independently of one another (divorced 40 years ago). And in the end, they are both dying of the same thing, ironically… And most likely within months of one another. They each have brain tumors, untreatable.
Ain’t that just a bitch.
I sit here in my car in the rain and realize this will be the last October. This will be the last Thanksgiving, Christmas, and well, you get the gist.
I haven’t allowed myself to break down into a sobbing pile of snotty grief yet. But as a most kind therapist pointed out… It’s a’comin’.
I love both my parents because, well, they are my parents. I also love them individually for different reasons. But those things will come out in various writings.
I’m warning y’all, (if anyone is still out there) it’s gonna be rough around here for a while.