a discussion about ageing parents and death.

[drivin_me_nuts]

I'm heading up to 50 soon enough and I have parents who are at that age where they their death becomes more than a passing thought entertained by them in reflective moments.

In fact, it has become more than a passing thought - not an obsession, but at times it is as death has left a calling card with 'catch up sometime soon', written upon it's vellum in a stern font.

I know I'm not alone in this, I know for some of you it must be the same, so tell me please, how do you handle parents (as in your own thoughts and feelings, as well as helping them with theirs), who seem focused on the end of life. The death of my wife profoundly affected them, and it seems they go to a funeral of someone they know every other week or so.

I love them dearly, I'll miss them then they are gone, but at times their focus on death makes it challenging to say the least.

[drivin_me_nuts]

boxst said:

Yes, mine are a bit like that. Admittedly they ARE old, my Father is 86 and my Mother just over 80, but they have taken the 'death' thing to extremes. Last week they informed me that they have been to see a funeral director and arranged/paid for their funerals so it doesn't inconvenience me too much. I was a bit shocked.

.. and this is what gets me to. I understand the whole 'making it easier for you so you don't have to worry about anything...' I get that, I really do, but it's almost as if they've given up on living. It just does my head in.

[drivin_me_nuts]

Tom_C76 said:

... I guess what I'm getting at is be grateful for the time you do get with them...

Totally agree.

[drivin_me_nuts]

Morningside said:

I lost both my parents before I was 40. They had me much later in life but you always think they are going to live forever. But as time moves on you can see that they ARE getting older.

My father had Parkinsons and had given up. He was always a very strong proud old fashioned man (suit, tie, hat) who never discussed his feelings but I was shocked one day when he took me to one side to talk about what he had left me in his will. He had sorted all his affairs before the end and it was like he knew time was short and although he wanted to live to 102 he died aged 87. I think the low points for him was me having to get him out of the bath.
It was hard to see him in the hospital and he stayed in a coma for 2 weeks before he died and although he never hit me his word WAS God and yes, I was scared of him. But he looked so small, so insignificant.

My mother always moaned about dad but when he died she seemed so lost and I know she missed him. She died 5 years later with heart trouble and also lost her marbles. It was so hard that the person you are talking to has no real idea who you are. I remember telling her that she cannot leave the Hospital as she was trying to sneak out. It was really odd as she almost turned into a child being told off as this woman (my mother) was sitting on the hospital bed with her suitcases like a little lost orphan. A very, very sad sight.

I think one of the hardest things was selling the house that you have such a close connection with and all your childhood memories are tied up in it. What I found made it easier (if that's the word) is take out all the REAL personal stuff and get someone else to clear the property otherwise you will finish up keeping everything.
The other hard thing to get used to is noone to run to. It does not matter what the hell you do in life your parents will always listen and give advice. Yes, you have your wife but your parents have always helped you out and in my case out of a lot of st they I have got myself into.

Like you I have also lost my wife after a very short time after diagnosis (7 weeks) but we talked and talked everyday so that nothing is or has been left unsaid although I still miss her terribly.

Your last sentence is one I know only to well. It doesn't get easier, but you learn to swerve around the worst of it until one day, some day, it hurts less and you start to live more. I'm getting married soon, but my lass will always be my lass and I think about her every day, but not in mourning in any more, but now as a guide and a light as to how to live my life better and well - which works for me as it kept me from falling into a lonely abyss. I wish you every happiness.

[drivin_me_nuts]

ali_kat said:

superlightr said:

stuff

It is, but it's also a blessing. He's happy. DMN & ShawTarse have met him & will attest to that

To me, what your Dad went through is heartbreaking

Ali, your dad is lovely and a real gentle soul.

[drivin_me_nuts]

pincher said:

dmn - I know I have read your story before but can you remind me how long ago your wife passed away, if you don't mind?

Morningside - I know that everything is still terribly raw for you right now but trust me, it does get 'better' - 2 years for me at the end of this month and then what would have been her 45th birthday shortly after, swiftly followed by mine. I still miss her every single day but the pain of being parted does start to ease - dmn can probably put it into words far more eloquently than I could ever hope to.

As for parents? Mine are fortunately still with me but my MiL just wants to be with her youngest daughter

Edited by pincher on Friday 3rd July 12:35

4 and a half years ago - I know.. time goes in the blink of an eye.

[drivin_me_nuts]

Morningside said:

Thank you. I am going through hell at the moment and everything that could go wrong is. I miss her everyday but I missing her more due to the problems as we always talked about everything and somehow muddled through.

And as I said it's hard as I cannot 'run' to my parents. 16 years for dad and just over 10 years for mum and it still seems like yesterday.

In some ways having parents in such a situation as yours is both a blessing and a curse, In one way it's lovely to have the connection with someone who knows you like no other. The flip side is you come to realise half the time you're 'managing' them in their interactions with your grief and theirs. It adds something else to the mix and yet more people you end up looking after yourself.

I'll give you an example. WIthin a handful of weeks of my wife dying, three different people I knew phoned me up to tell them how crap their lives were with their family and their relationships and their own losses. I remember at the time putting the phone down and just yelling at the world to fk off and leave me alone. One in particular i've never spoken to again - it's almost as if when the person closest to you dies, you become the de facto 'expert' on death and managing loss. Never mind what you're going through, you can handle it.



I can only begin to imagine your hell. There was a time when I could use all my senses to describe my loss. It was red and black and angry looking, the shape of a kidney bean, with an arrythmic heart beat and it smelt of cold metal and brine. If I closed my eyes I could see it staring back at life itself, more dysfunctional and out of context, than angry. At times it became a void, at other times it ached to be held and to hold again in ways that only it - I knew. It took a long time for that loss to change shape and become something that was not filled with grief. It took many months before introspection was replaced with just neutral reaction - with for want of a word 'nothing'. The day I said to myself 'I feel nothing', was actually a day forwards for me. It was very hard to get to just that point and harder still to move to a point where I could even begin to entertain the thought of reconnecting or restarting with life. For me it took the realisation that life was standing still and I was going to become one of those sad and lonely men who never got beyond bereavement - and there are lots of them.

We all have to get to a point where we say today can't be worse than yesterday. it just can't. Some days are, but then some days aren't and for a while we seem to bump along on the bottom of the ocean of bereavement. We hold on to everything, we let go of nothing, for fear of letting go of every thing. Everything becomes sacred, important, to be treasured, never to be thrown away. But in time that to changes and clothes and artefacts get sent to jumble and what remains with us is what is truly sacred to us. But even in those previous material things, nothing is held more dearly than the memories most intimate and sacred. The private ones, the ones not shared or privy to another living soul. They become our nurture and drill down in to the depths of our core, or our being.

I lost the love of my life, my soulmate, my guiding light and my best friend, my everything. But I didn't lose her, she wasn't discarded, forgotten or replaced with someone new. No, she will always be there as will yours always be with you. If it's getting hard to read this, I am really sorry, but nothing in life can prepare you for the real heartbreak of this loss, and it for now, can be but endured. But every day longer, every day further into your future, your life becomes a step away from her death and what is in her, in you, in both of you, is drawn deeper into the centre of your being.

I carry mine deep within. Even as I write this, I can feel the place in my heart where she lies, bathed in a teal coloured background that is true and unconditional love. She was bright, vibrant, clever and so strong - qualities that have made her for me, an immortal. As is yours; Immortal within you.