Jack & Lee

A Loving Warning: This story involves the death of parents, cancer, and heart attack

This story is in dedication to my parents, Jack and Lee. They were high school sweethearts, made a mean pork roast and their guilty pleasure was a Sunday country drive in my Dad’s old convertible. Their love was a force.

 Weaving Love into our Lives Through our Parents

I’ve been reflecting on what it means to have certain identities in our lives. Personally, I am a wife, a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend, an occupational therapist, a volunteer, a concert fanatic, a lover of (not-so-well executed) cooking and so on.

These many identities have brought me purpose, burnt taste buds, and a heck of a lot of joy.

This was until a few years ago when my world was turned upside down. Both of my parents happened to be on their way to join us for my daughter’s graduation when my father suffered a major heart attack. Thankfully, the medical team was outstanding, and he survived. As we assisted my mother in nursing him back to health, we noticed that she had become increasingly tired amongst additional small complaints. After taking her for a routine check up, followed by a specialist appointment, we were hit with the news that she had advanced colorectal cancer. Within the span of 3 months, everything had changed. My role of daughter had changed to caregiver, my career took a backseat, and I was beyond overwhelmed taking care of not one, but two elderly parents.

I confess that though we were close, up until this point I had taken them for granted on many occasions as many of us have. Perhaps this was my chance to make up for that. With my siblings living in the United States, I threw myself into providing the best support I could, becoming chauffeur, cook (there may have been complaints), cleaner, companion, you name it.

What I did not account for was how burnt out I would become and how quickly. I remember speaking with a colleague and offering up a piece of (likely unwanted) advice; if you ever find yourself in this situation, find ways to take care of yourself. Even if for five minutes at a time. There are so many approachable resources out there. It will save you. I had not heeded my own advice and became deeply tired, somewhat emotionally unhinged, and found myself snapping at my loved ones. For caregivers out there – please allow yourself some care. Try not to let it make you feel guilty. I know it’s challenging but you, too, deserve care.

Within six months, Mom had died. Within 12 months, Dad’s heart couldn’t take the loss of mom and he joined her.

Here I was, an adult in my early 50’s, completely frozen.  I thought to myself “I’m an orphan. Who am I without my parents? How will I recover from this”? I recall reading a phrase somewhere that said something to the effect of “once you lose your parents, it feels as though you can never go home” and that hit me right in the stomach.  

Though I did not allow myself to ask for help as I was caring for my parents, something that served me greatly was to allow myself permission to ask for help, again as a caregiver – but this time to myself. I am grateful that I was introduced to Sarah and the idea of grief work. I tried on different things to see what would work best for me. Some days that looked like staying in bed until noon, crying my eyes out and watching all of the sad movies. Some days, it looked like going on short, quiet walks with my partner, saying nothing and simply holding hands. I think most importantly, it has been the idea that I will always be a daughter. It might look differently now, but the love doesn’t go away. I was a part of my parents’ story and they a part of mine.

I will continue to weave my parents’ memory into everything that I do so that my children also get the chance to know them. They will be a part of each other’s story and so it goes; on and on, weaving a beautiful legacy together.

 XOXO