Losing a Parent
As you know, recently I joined the club of those who have lost a parent. It is not a club any of us wants to join, but all of us will sooner or later. And many have preceded us.
Specifically I have been reflecting on those of us in the Sandwich Generation, the generation of boomers who are sandwiched between aging parents and growing children. Most of the thoughts out there on the SG deal with caring for both groups, but another layer in the sandwich (which you may recall I recently commented on wanting to be Gourmet, if you please, rather than bologna slapped between two slices of white bread...) is those of us who have lost a parent.
I am now so much more sensitive in a way I could never have been before to my friends and peers who have already established membership in this club. Until you cross that threshold you have no idea.
No idea how to respond. How to care. How to listen. How to affirm. What to say. And the cool thing is, it is OK, because those who went before didn't know either until they joined the club.
The best we can do is then be there for the next as we weren't for the ones who preceded us. I find myself asking my friends if they have lost a parent. If they have I acknowledge their pain and apologize for not being there for them. If they haven't I encourage them to love passionately and make sure they have no regrets.
Have no regrets. Love passionately. Take time.
Peace.
Specifically I have been reflecting on those of us in the Sandwich Generation, the generation of boomers who are sandwiched between aging parents and growing children. Most of the thoughts out there on the SG deal with caring for both groups, but another layer in the sandwich (which you may recall I recently commented on wanting to be Gourmet, if you please, rather than bologna slapped between two slices of white bread...) is those of us who have lost a parent.
I am now so much more sensitive in a way I could never have been before to my friends and peers who have already established membership in this club. Until you cross that threshold you have no idea.
No idea how to respond. How to care. How to listen. How to affirm. What to say. And the cool thing is, it is OK, because those who went before didn't know either until they joined the club.
The best we can do is then be there for the next as we weren't for the ones who preceded us. I find myself asking my friends if they have lost a parent. If they have I acknowledge their pain and apologize for not being there for them. If they haven't I encourage them to love passionately and make sure they have no regrets.
Have no regrets. Love passionately. Take time.
Peace.
Labels: grief, Losing a parent, sandwich generation, sorrow, supporting others who have lost parents
posted by www.kathypride.com at
11:03 AM
2 Comments:
My dad (my step-dad--my other dad died when I was 9) is struggling with low blood pressure.
If you get a minute, please pray for him. He had a heart attack in 1994 and had stents placed then and they told him he had 10 years to live. He recently had a new stent and replacment of his implanted defibrilarot. My concern is that the low bp is his heart tiring out and I am concerned that he may not have much time left. Mom is in relatively good health, but if Dad goes, we will be pretty insistant that she move here closer to us. They are in their 2nd home on the coast, after Dad's retirement about 6 years ago. I would like her to be happy and anjoy her years in the mild climate of the coast. But I also (selfishly) would like her here with me to be closer to my son and daughter (and me) and to our soon-to-be born grandchild.
Please pray for my dad's health, that he can enjoy what time he has left and that Mom can enjoy her "retirement" and not worry, as well.
Kathy,
Yes, it is a hard club to belong to. I can go for a year not feeling too emotional about my Dad, then something reminds me of him, and tears threaten! Last night it was stepping in a shiny car showroom, with the smell of new cars....i was instantly transported to my childhood where i spent countless hours in my Dad's dealerships, pretending the new cars were my own, buying myself a hot cocoa from the vending machine, or twirling in my Daddy's desk chair....ahh, the memories! The last thing I said to my dad was also, "I love you"
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