From birth, our parents do their best to bring us everything we need to evolve in life. Nobody is born parents, they too learn through us. They learn to love us, to protect us, to educate us and to make us the people we become. However, life comes with the promise of death and for most of us, losing the people who gave birth to us is an inevitable passage. Lisa Schmidt, a collaborator of the Huffpost, testimony of this fateful but oh so painful experience.
The relationship between a parent and his child is unique. A mother carries her child in her belly for 9 months and creates undeniable bonds with him even before he comes into the world. A father is his landmark, his base of trust and the first image that this being will be of a man. This relationship with the parents then develops over time; they teach us the values of life, guide us in this path of constant change, and provide us with unalterable and constant support on which we are sure to always be able to rest.
The mourning is done little by little
The loss of this pedestal is therefore one of the most upsetting stages in a person's life. Losing them finally comes down to losing a landmark that has always marked our existence. For Lisa Schmidt, this experience was punctuated with suffering but also lessons. Here is what she writes:
"I lost my parents two years apart. My mother's death was as brutal as it was unexpected, and my father's death occurred fairly quickly as a result of cancer. My mother was the only person to really know me and understand me. My father was the one I could always count on, regardless of the circumstances (...) Grief was devouring me and the process of mourning was taking place little by little, but no one can really prepare for what his parents 'go away without ever being able to come back'.
Some things in the life of the young woman have changed forever, she tells it in 10 points:
"My phone is never far from me, even when I sleep. The last time I did not hear my phone at night, I missed a call from my mother.
- Just realizing that my mother was gone made me physically sick for six months. It literally made me want to throw up.
- I wanted to honor the wishes of my parents, and this has sometimes created discord within our family. This burden was not easy to wear, but they chose me to do it, what does it matter if I were to look bad in the eyes of others?
- It saddens me to know that my son did not know his grandparents. They would have loved it.
- I would not trade the time spent with them for anything in the world. But sometimes, I happen to tell myself that I would have preferred them to die when I was younger, the memories might have been less painful.
- I can not stand to see someone get angry with his parents in front of me. I can not help but intervene and give him a good lesson on gratitude and appreciation.
- Being an orphan is like being part of a "club" you would never have liked to join. All you want to do is cancel your membership and find your life as it was.
- You also have the impression that the other members of the club are the only ones who can truly understand how you feel.
- Life goes on, but sometimes you feel the same pain that haunted you the first few days, even years after you lost it.
- When you see people surrounded by their parents, you happen to be jealous and envious of the luck they have. Life will never have the same taste as when they were still there.
Saying goodbye to your parents when you're a kid
Grieving for your parents is never easy, no matter how old you are, this experience is one of the most traumatic that you will ever have to go through. Then comes denial and anger, caused by a distinctly powerful and painful sorrow. The physical symptoms are felt and the psychological impact is as unpredictable as it is irreversible. Sadness, anger, anxiety, numbness, guilt, regret and remorse are all feelings that jostle in the mind of the bereaved child. It is normal to go through all this, it is normal to feel disturbed and it is all the more normal to take the time to experience your grief at your own pace.