This is the time of year that I still struggle with. By “struggle”, I don’t mean I feel sad or depressed or melancholy, so maybe it’s not the best way of describing how I feel… It’s the time of year when I like to think about what happened in those 3.5 weeks, plus all that went before. It’s 5 years tomorrow since Mum sent that message “We need you”. How can 5 years have possibly passed? How can it hurt as much now as it did the first year? The world changed that Christmas and I suppose I’m still not used to the fact that it won’t change back again; this is my new world.
When Mum texted that message I was so convinced my wonderful Dad had died…or was dying. I switched direction and drove northwards on the motorway, asking God to let Dad still be alive when I arrived, so I could see him one more time. Tell him I loved him. Just be with him… I wasn’t expecting the emergency to be my Mum, unable to breathe, not knowing what to do and relying on me to do something. That morning is with me always: the terror, the panic, the realisation that it was down to me to do something. The right thing.
Since then, the first thought on waking, the last thought on falling asleep is still “they are dead”. In fact, that thought still goes round and round in my head; it is with me constantly.
I think one thing that astounds me is that Dad had ALWAYS insisted they would “die together” – and although 8 days apart, they pretty much did; I’ve no doubt that Mum held on solely to support me. They died 8 days apart, lay side by side in the Chapel of Rest, and were buried together on 29th December 2014. How did my father know they were going to die together? I’d always told him he was being silly – not once did I think he might be right. Not once did I consider the impact it would have on me, to lose them both together…
I don’t regret that that is what happened, hard as it was, hard as it is… It was right for them, and that’s what matters. Right that they DID die together, as they had lived together for over 59 years…
At the time it felt as if – heartbreaking as it was – they had had a long life and death came to them when they were old, so devastated as I was, I felt aware that really, that was to be expected at 80 years… Now, though, I seem to know so many people who still have their parents… In fact, no! I seem to know people who still have their Mothers… Many of these people are older than me and their Mothers are in their 90s… So, now it no longer feels ok. I feel cheated out of another decade with my parents. I think of all I have done since they died. All the changes I’ve made in my life that they will never know about, never share… It’s too much to bear, at times…
And then I ask myself this: Would I have still done all of these things if they hadn’t died? Where would I be living right now if they were alive? What would I be doing? I think of all the wonderful people I’ve met in the last 5 years. The experiences I’ve had. The friendships I’ve made. Would I wipe it all clear? Would I choose not to have had this new life if it meant I could have them back? The answer, of course, is yes…
And yet… Living through their rapid decline, their deaths, taught me things that I cannot ignore. It taught me that not all deaths are good deaths. Not all deaths are comfortable deaths. Sometimes there is pain and loneliness and fear. So – I would trade in all that I’ve done in the last 5 years to have them back, but only if their deaths – when they die in the future – are exactly the same. Together, dignified, full of love.
Why am I asking myself this pointless question, though? I have no choice. I cannot bring them back! They are on the other side of the door. They are in the other room. And I am here, living a completely new life that they know nothing about.
One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.