<p>I agree about this thread, zm. I need the cathartic part. I’ve had some significant loss in my life this year–not just my mother–and now I have an old friend with serious cancer, so that’s looming and I’m trying to be positive or at least philosophical. But all this (and my own age) makes me yearn for my elders in a way that sometimes feels like I need to yank myself back to the present. Maybe “missing” them is more about taking stock of who I am and what I have left to do in the world. Yeah, right, I’ll think about that tomorrow, like Scarlett at Tara. Now I need to get back to work!</p>
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I’m very, very sorry. And I understand what you’re saying. It’s like there comes a point at which there is no one left who shares your history and it feels very rootless and exposed.</p>
<p>I have lost them both in the last five years. I miss them. Theynhad a long life and seemed to love much of it.</p>
<p>alwaysamom: A sad, poignant, and uplifting post. Thank you for sharing.</p>
<p>I agree that this thread makes me cry. My parents died three months apart. This time of year is especially difficult. For four years after my parents’ deaths I couldn’t cook Thanksgiving dinner. We went to the club where I ate anything that didn’t have to do with Thanksgiving. And, since my mother was a truly bad cook (actually an uninterested cook) Chanukah was ok…as was Christmas. But certain days (yes, this is trite) like the day after Christmas sale, or the January 1st sale I miss her so much. (There was this year when my husband and my father were watching football) and I took my mother shopping. She said that there was “nothing” and I put her in a dressing room. At 80% off I was buying her…something.</p>
<p>Three hours later we returned home…with five bags of clothing. My father almost had a heart attack. Total damage? Two hundred and eighty dollars from what was then Robinson’s (Robinsons May). It was a nice day of mother/daughter bonding.</p>
<p>Two of my children remember my parents, one was too young. And that is a shame. All the time that they couldn’t spend with me they were able to spend with their grandchildren. </p>
<p>So, I remember them.</p>
<p>My Dad died 8 years ago, after a 4-year stint in a facility for Alzheimer’s patients. We lost him long before he died. He had no obvious awareness of his surroundings for several years. It was so awful to watch a brilliant, funny man become that person. I miss who he was when I was in college, when I would call on Thursday nights when I knew Mom wasn’t home so I could talk to just him. Otherwise he would just hand her the phone. She is 86 and still going strong. I think of him constantly, when I remember his bad puns or see things he would have liked. I wish he could have lived longer to know my kids.</p>
<p>My father has dementia and has become very passive and somewhat childlike. He was an angry, crazy drunk when I was growing up and almost a malevolent presence in our house. He really wasn’t much of a father to me or my brothers. But somehow I always had this idea or fantasy that one day he would acknowledge the things he did when I was growing up and apologize to me. Now that can never happen and that’s where I feel a sense of loss – that I’ll never get an apology. I know that sounds selfish. However, I’m able to feel compassion for him now that he’s sick, and that’s a bit of grace.</p>
<p>My mom has been dead for almost three years and I still wake up some mornings so sad to realize it wasn’t a dream. I miss her terribly. My dad is still alive - more active than I am and thankfully he has a ‘lady friend’ that he enjoys spending time with. My parents were the greatest; if I can be half the mom that my mom was I will be very pleased!</p>
<p>My dad was brilliant, rather self centered, and one of the more interesting people you’d ever meet. He died in his mid 70s as a rather direct result of the cigarettes that were impossible to give up, after a two year period post stroke and dementia. When he did pass away, I could only be glad, as he had made his wife’s existence a caretaking and expensive nightmare, and I could only be glad for her to be freed of this anxiety provoking burden, as well as maintain savings for her own retirement. He would have said about himself, “that guy should have been taken out and shot” as he had little compassion for the infirm. </p>
<p>So I was rather surprised at how sadness came later, and I started to miss the person he had been, who was expressed outrageous (not shared) opinions, explored the diverse cultures of the world, and always studied languages. The grief still comes and goes. Last spring when my D graduated from college, the non scientific girl turned geology major, and linguist, I was so sad that he was not there to see this granddaughter who shared two of his most closely held interests in life. </p>
<p>I now wish I had been less intimidated, expressed my opinion more firmly about the smoking and uncontrolled hypertension, given him more tools for smoking cessation. But he lived in Asia, and our visits were every two years for 3 to 4 days, when he’d drop in on a visit to the USA. Never enough time, and we only had internet a few years before he died.</p>
<p>My father died at age 70, when I was 23, in 1978. He was a fascinating man and I wish I’d known him better, but I still remember him affectionately and think of advice he gave me. I think he said “illegitimi non carborundum” to me every single day as I left for school. He made me breakfast every day; my mother was a complete witch until about 10 AM and we never disturbed her in the morning. My father, like me, was a morning person, and we enjoyed our breakfasts together.</p>
<p>My mother died in 2003 and I mourn the fact that I never liked her, but I don’t miss her at all.</p>
<p>My father had the same quote dmd with an “est” at the end. (And for those who don’t know it is: Don’t let the bas##### drag you down.) Loved it and quote it to my kids.</p>
<p>Alwaysamom, my Dad died nearly two years ago and I remember clearly erasing a voicemail from him, as I automatically hit #7. I thought to myself that I should have saved it ‘just in case’ and, in fact, that was his last VM left for me. Though he lived another month, he had no reason to call and I did not get the chance to save him voice :(</p>
<p>My father’s sendoff was “Onward and upward.” I have one of those little cassette tapes that I know has his voice on it. This is a very sweet thread.</p>
<p>I’ve avoided this thread. My father died a few years ago, and I haven’t really faced the fact that he is gone. We’ve had family reunions and visits to (now) my mother’s house, and he’s not there, but somehow I’ve been able to avoid facing it. I’m really good at denial.</p>
<p>We had a family reunion less than a month before he died suddenly. I have a photo from the last day of Dad standing under the trees with my sons, one on each side, his arns around them. The light is coming through the trees in a way that he looks like he’s fading away, kind of insubstantial. I love that photo.</p>
<p>Actually, he didn’t really die suddenly. He had some health conditions. For the last few years of his life, every time we left him after a visit, I would watch him standing in the doorway waving good-bye and wonder whether I would see him again. I’ve never had those thoughts about my mother, who is going strong in her mid-80’s.</p>
<p>I know I am fortunate that my father died so late in my life, and I still have my mother.</p>
<p>My friend, in his 70s, told me he just “realized” within the last year, deep in his gut, that he was actually going to die someday. Yet, I have somehow always been cognizant about death. When I look at my loved ones, I am always aware that someday, maybe today, I will leave them, or they me. At every parting, I tell them I love them because it might be my last time to say it. To me, this is not melancholy, just tender.</p>
<p>We have discussed with both kids how lucky they are to have had all 4 grandparents until my mom died when my youngest was 16. The 3 remaining grandparents are still active and going strong, which is such a blessing.</p>
<p>Both of my parents were the youngest of very large families, and they lost their parents when they were young - my mom’s mother died when she was 14, her father when she was 18. My dad lost his father when he was 8, but his mother lived well into her 90’s. She was the only grandmother I knew, but since she was 48 when my dad was born (:eek:) she was very old when I knew her. </p>
<p>So watching my kids interact with their grandparents, even though we live far away and don’t see them often, has been very sweet for me. I didn’t know what I was missing until I’ve seen it with my own kids.</p>
<p>After reading this thread, I made a telephone call to my mother “just because”.</p>
<p>I’ve also been avoiding this thread, as it’s very painful to think about my deceased parents.</p>
<p>I still remember the last time I saw my dad, in August 1999, only several weeks before he unexpectedly passed away. Our family was en route to a year’s sabbatical in Europe, and we planned a stopover on the east coast so we could visit family. By that point he was a very sad man, the youngest of nine who was the only one left, and he mourned the loss of his family and friends constantly. It was almost as if he was just waiting to die and it was hard to watch, as I loved him dearly and was extremely close to him. What a shock to get “the phone call” shortly after arriving in Europe. I would give anything to have him back, and whenever we spend time together in my dreams, I wake up feeling wonderful and so happy! I saved every letter I ever got from him, and there were many, and sometimes I dig them out just to be with him again.</p>
<p>After my dad passed away my mom entered a decade of monumental health problems and she passed away almost two years ago. Becoming an “orphan” in my late fifties hit me hard.</p>
<p>The other day my sister called and said she didn’t know what she would do if something happened to either my brother or to me. I feel the same way and I completely understand how lonely my dad felt.</p>
<p>As I mentioned, my parents died within three months of each other. My mom died first. In the beginning her death didn’t seem “real” because, in a strange way, when I looked at my father it was like my mom was in the next room. Then my father died…and there was no next room…</p>
<p>I too say I love you when I leave a loved one. I do want them to know how much they are all loved.</p>
<p>what a sad thread. my mom died over 10 years ago when my children were young. I’ve wished so often that she was around to watch them grow up - she would have loved watching D2 in her Irish dance dress and wig, or reading D1’s articles in the school paper. I’ve said to them “oh, grandma would’ve loved this” so often…</p>
<p>my MIL died unexpectedly a few months ago and I miss her everyday. at her funeral several people told me that she told them I was the best mother she’d ever known. that was her final gift to me. I wish I could say thank you.</p>