Reflections

I miss my parents. I am very aware, though, that a tremendous burden has been taken from me in the healing they received through death. It is only now, that it has been lifted, that I am recognizing how hard the last few years have been. As their health declined, I found myself doing a constant juggling act. What were my responsibilities to my parents, my daughter, my siblings, my church? Did Daughter's need for stability take precedence over their need to have me present during a health crisis? Could I leave my congregation in the midst of our preparation for Easter to tend to a health crisis? What was my responsibility to Sister and Brother as they dealt with the day in and day out needs of Mom and Dad? Was I doing enough to lessen their load? What about me? Did I need to be with Mom and Dad as their death approached? Was my desire to see them more important than the stress it would have caused Daughter?

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For months I have made each appointment and set each meeting with the understanding that I might need to change it at the last minute. Hours have been eaten up in phone calls with my siblings as we struggled to assure that Mom and Dad had everything they needed. The stress on all of us and our differing perceptions of their needs and beliefs about what was best for us threatened to tear us apart.

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I am grateful for every minute I spent with my parents over the last year. I have wonderful memories of time with them I will treasure always. I will remember Mom's joy at Brother's wedding and the huge smile on her face when she woke up in the motel with Sister, Niece, Daughter, and me. Later that day she had the seizure that was the beginning of the end for her.

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I remember my last visit with Dad-- our conversation about hospice and the fact that Sister had some "strange ideas." I remember taking him Kentucky Fried Chicken for his lunch, buying and setting up the new cordless phones for him, and sharing a beer with him.

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Two stories from his final few days in the hospital: One day when he was confused and drifting in and out of consciousness, he kept calling for Mom. He's with her now. I find myself wondering if he was seeing her. Brother and Sister were both there at one point and were helping the aide, who was trying to get him into a sling to weigh him. He kept complaining about Sister and how she always wanted to know his weight. She tried to convince him it was me, but he insisted she was the one. I found that especially amusing. Sister weighed him every time she visited. There were times when she only stopped by long enough to weigh him. For her, it was a concrete measure of how he was doing with his congestive heart failure. One of the reasons I had wanted him to be on hospice was because it would have taken the focus off of his weight and put it on just being with him. I don't know that that even that would have enabled Sister to let go of he obsession with his weight, though.

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It has been hard, and overall, I think I made the right choices. I look back without any regrets. As much as I miss them, I would not want them back the way they were. I am grateful that they have been set free of the bodies that were worn out and are together in heaven with God. I am grateful for the support and faith that will carry me through my grief. I am grateful that I had both of my parents for over 51 years.