Handling Loss

Yesterday, as I was eating my vegetarian ragout, I had a phone call from a cousin with news that my aunt (Dad’s last remaining sibling) had just died. She had been living in a nursing home for some time, and though she had a number of physical ailments, no one thought she had anything immanently life threatening. The call was a shock.

I broke the news to Mom and Dad. Though they live a long distance from my aunt, they had tried to stay in touch via telephone. Calls had become increasingly frustrating because Dad can’t speak, Mom can’t hear, and my aunt (according to Mom) mumbled and held the phone too far from her mouth.

It was difficult to tell how Dad was receiving the news. He was clearly processing the information, but when he tried to ask a question, the words just wouldn’t come out as he intended. I was straining to make sense of what he was trying to say but it was worse than a bad cell phone connection in which you catch only every fifth word.

Finally, he asked about his sister’s first husband, who has been dead more than 20 years. Then, in a rush of words he said, “If I have to do something, I don’t’ have a car.” He probably recalled the funerals for his parents and his other sister and the role he played as executor of his sister’s estate. I assured him that he would not have to do anything this time; all arrangements are being handled by the children.

I know our experience of loss changes as we age. I wonder if Dad considers it her blessing that she's left this life, or if he suffers pangs of abandonment with his last remaining family member gone. For me, every moment of life is precious, but I'm beginning to comprehend how one can be ready to check out.

Sue