The Moments We Lose Our Parents

The Moments We Lose Our Parents

I saw one of my friends post about the age you were when you lost your parents. She went on to talk about not just the death of your parent, but the moment you lost them. When I read what she wrote and listened to her, it made me think of moments when I lost something within me because of an experience with one or both of my parents. I have lost them more times than I can count, and in the process, I lost pieces of me.

The first thing that popped into my head was when I lost my mom for the first time. I couldn’t remember; I was so young. I know for sure there was a part missing when we moved from California to New York. We drove—my dad drove the moving truck and my mom drove our van. I told my sisters they could alternate because I was driving with my dad. I already couldn’t stand to spend that much time with her. I didn’t feel safe with her. Looking back, I had no connection with her. She seemed pretty cold, even though we did fun things as a family. I knew that without having the words or really the thought process to express it.

I lost trust in her when she gave me advice about a boy that liked me when I was eight. I didn’t like him. My mom told me, "Say you are going to kiss him if he doesn’t leave you alone." So I did, and he kissed me. Her plan did not work, and I went home crying. This made me think she didn’t understand. I didn’t ask her for advice after this. I also did not like the experience. I did not like that boy, and now we had kissed—just on the lips, but I was so upset. It was violating my space, but I was also welcoming to it because of the poor advice I got. This helped my trust issues.

At seven or eight, I was told to stick up for my siblings. One of my sisters was getting picked on and it made her cry. I didn’t do anything about it because I was afraid to and didn’t really know what to do. When we got home from school, my sister was still crying. My mom asked her what happened, and she told her. My mom got mad and told me that I am supposed to protect my siblings. This was a moment where I was taught to care for others and not think about myself. I was scared, and I was just expected to get over it.

At eight, I also helped take care of my youngest brother, and at eleven, my youngest sister. I was annoyed because it was more responsibility than I should have had. It was just another thing that I was expected to do regardless of how I felt. I was taught to go against myself to help others. I felt like: Where do I fit into my own life here?

Innocence and Grief

When I was eleven, my mom took me to see my grandma, her mother, at the hospital. I was under the age for bringing kids into the hospital for visitation. My mom told me to act like her—no jumping around or playing. I already didn’t do much of that anyway, but I listened. She was always having me do things to grow up faster. Her mom was dying, but I didn’t know it was that serious. When I look back at it now, my mom wanted to see her mother, but not alone. I know my dad wouldn’t go with her, but I don’t know why she wouldn’t choose one of her siblings instead of me.

When I walked into the room, my grandma was saying, "Sarah, I am going to die," over and over. My mom did not like that. I know neither one of us expected it. My mom told her to stop saying it. I didn’t normally do this, but I slept in my mom's bed with her that night. My dad worked overnights, so there was room for me. When I woke up, my mom told me that my grandma had died. I thought she was joking because my mom wasn’t crying and didn’t look like she had cried. My dad told me later in life that she did cry that night. Not seeing her grieve made me think that at a certain age, you don’t get upset anymore. I lost my sensitivity in this moment. I lost some innocence. Also, in that moment, my mom really needed someone, and she chose me.

When I was 15, I drank too much vodka and had to get my stomach pumped. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t mean to drink that much, but I was way too young to be doing that and didn’t know better. I thought she would say she was worried or scared or something to show she cared about me. This was hard because this was the age I was done with my parents. I wanted to feel loved and important. I wanted to feel like she cared about me. I wanted to feel like more than a babysitter or a maid.

The Final Loss

Our relationship was a little bit better as I got older, but she still did things that upset me. I was in my early 20s and only had my first two kids when my mom took them to see Santa without me and before I could take them myself. I was furious with her. This was an overstep. Also, at this time, she was dying from cancer. That made it kind of difficult. I knew at this point that her relationship with her mother was worse. So when her mother died, she cried, but she wasn’t a mess like probably most are when they lose their mom. I always fought with my mom. If I didn't like something, I was saying it. I wasn’t afraid of her.

The moment I lost her for good on Earth was September 22, 2010, from cancer. She had cancer for six years, so I had time to grieve because I knew she was going to die when I found out in 2004. I didn’t know how much time I would have with her, but I knew it wasn’t long. I remember one day in February 2010, we were at BJ’s grocery shopping. She liked to buy my groceries for me sometimes. We were getting everything in the van and a big gust of wind came through. She only had one lung because of cancer, and it took her breath away. In that moment, I knew it was going to happen this year. The way her body just couldn’t fight anymore in such a short time was wild.

When my mom died, I felt sadness and relief. I was sad because she was my mother and tried her best for me; I truly believe that. But she was still so hurtful that it felt relieving not to have her in my life anymore. I imagine that I was feeling the same way she felt when she heard the news her mom died.

The last time she stopped having a negative impact on my life was September 2023. The way she still impacted me was in my decision-making. I was making choices from a hurt space in some cases. That is not the real me. I decided to deal with all the hurt I experienced with her. I know she loved me and didn’t want to hurt me, but she grew up with a worse mother. My mom tried, and I can see that since I have really looked into our relationship. She was a human being that went through the same trauma and couldn’t get herself out of it, and she passed it down just like her mom did before her.

My Father’s Story

My dad was a different story. I did not experience as much pain from him. Both my parents were emotionally unavailable, but the relationship was still better. I did not agree with his form of punishment, which was the belt or switch, but we still managed to have a close relationship when I was younger and after my teen years.

My dad was 45 years older than me, so he had been out of school for a minute. I remember asking him to help me with my third-grade homework. He helped me get everything wrong. I was upset with him because I still thought he knew everything. It just made me feel like he didn’t know anything. So I didn’t trust his judgment either. I lost some trust and reliability in what he did say.

When I was a teen, I would leave home for a week at a time. When I did come home, I got punished every time. I still did it anyway because I didn’t want to be controlled, but also I wanted my parents to care. They just didn’t care the way I thought they should. I didn’t care about being punished; that hurt so much less than the emotional, mental, and verbal punishing going on in my house. Every time he hit me, it felt like he didn’t care about me.

If I witnessed my child doing what I was doing, I wouldn’t punish them. I have three kids and two of them are adults, and they never acted the way I did. I also didn’t hit them. I always explained stuff to my kids in a way they could understand because that, to me, is parenting your child.

The Decline

Something weird happened. My dad didn’t take my mom's death well, which isn’t weird, but he had always avoided the grieving process. He was in a bad place and had a very unhealthy relationship with alcohol. During this time of his depression, he stopped caring for my younger siblings the way I felt he should. We all lost our mom, and he lost his wife, and we were trying to support him.

My parents helped out with babysitting my kids. It was my dad after my mom died. One day, I went to pick up my kids after work and I saw one of my brothers and his face was swollen. I was in the room with him and my dad. I asked my brother what was going on. My dad told him, "Swig some vodka and it will go away." I got pissed. I am not a doctor or dentist, but I knew his tooth was infected. I told my brother he needed to go get it looked at immediately. I offered to take him, but he went by himself. That moment made me realize how far gone my dad was from reality. The weird part is that it felt similar to the way my mom was with me when I was little—taking care of my siblings. I made sure they were making good decisions for their health. Also, a part of me broke because, just like with my mother, I knew I didn’t have much time left with him.

He didn’t want to be better; he was done. That is so heartbreaking. There was nothing for me to do. I lost a part of my dad when my mom died in September of 2010. I finally lost him April 23, 2015. He was the hardest loss for me. He, too, still affected me after death—again, with my choices.

Healing Through Awareness

In 2024, I was working on my relationship with my dad. I learned a lot about our relationship as well. He was born in 1939, so it was a very different time period growing up. He was going through his own thing. I really don’t know much about his past because I never met his father and I was young when his mom died.

With both my parents, I feel like they were both really kind and sensitive people. They were not given a safe environment growing up to express this. I share this part because it is important. I don’t have to like what happened in my past, but I can learn from it and not pass it on to my kids. There is more to all parents than just being a mom or dad; we are all human. Yes, I did lose myself growing up with them, but they also taught me how to get back when I was ready to see it.

I will be completely honest: if they were still alive, I would not have much contact with them if they were the people they were when they were still alive. Just because someone is blood doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice myself to keep them in my life. I would let my kids spend time with my parents if they were still alive because I believe in my kids making that decision for themselves. I already "left" my parents when I was a teenager. I am even stronger now when it comes to my boundaries.

The answer to figuring out how to be your authentic self is through your past experiences. Analyzing what you experienced with your parents is a great place to start, because after that, you are just recycling the same stuff through other relationships. You will be shown different ways and with different people until you understand it. Some people die without ever understanding it. We all have the answers we need; we just have to be open to a new experience. If you are up for it, looking at your relationship (or lack of relationship) with your parents is beneficial. I started with my mom because it was the harder one, but you can choose whichever one you feel guided to work on first. At the beginning, it might be hard, but push through. You won’t regret what is on the other side.

I love you!

This is Love

P.S. The friend I was referring to at the beginning She posted it on her Facebook page Soulfire Sentiments and she in on Instagram and tiktok. I follow her on all those socials. She is pretty amazing.