In the final days of my father’s life, he spent his time peacefully in hospice care. The nurses, who frequently entered and exited the room, always reassured us with, “It is all part of his journey. Each person’s path is unique.” Little did I know that two weeks later, I would embark on a journey of my own—one without my father, unlike anything I had faced before, particularly since I never anticipated this outcome just two months prior when his health took a drastic turn.
Grieving is a complex journey. For me, it has been especially challenging as it amplifies the reality of my estrangement from my mother. Now, I find myself navigating life without either parent, and the weight of this reality is a burden I carry every day.
Five years ago, when I made the difficult choice to sever ties with my mother, I still had my father, who was active and engaged in my life. Although I mourned the loss of that relationship, I could channel my energy into deepening my connection with him. My mother, struggling personally and unable to provide the support I needed, created a toxic environment for me and my family. Thus, I felt a sense of relief when I finally found the strength to walk away.
The only moment I questioned that decision was the day my father passed. I often grapple with which loss cuts deeper—the unexpected absence of my father or the persistent void left by my mother. She was absent during the two months he spent in various medical facilities as we faced his rapid-onset dementia. She did not advocate for him, nor did she offer comfort while we witnessed our gentle father’s distress in a hospital bed, confused and disoriented.
When he expressed, “I am done,” we recognized that we had perhaps pushed his journey too far. She was not there to share laughter over childhood stories in that hospice room, nor was she present at the wake to lend a hand. Her sympathies arrived only as a brief text message, and when we needed her most during this challenging time, she let us down.
Months after my father’s death, I am navigating the difficult path of parenting without parents. Grief and loneliness wash over me in waves, but my eight-year-old son inspires me to persevere. Adopted from Ethiopia as an infant, his own experiences with grief have imparted invaluable lessons. He encourages me to cherish joyful memories while reminding me it’s okay to cry when I need to. His fond recollections of my father help keep his spirit alive in our lives, and his strength and faith reveal the true power of love and relationships.
We often refer to these experiences as “journeys” to suggest that our pain is a process leading to strength and understanding. Perhaps this is true, but it does not lessen the burden of the journey itself. We wear smiles, grieve, and continue with our lives, all while holding onto disbelief and denial.
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Summary
The author shares a deeply personal account of navigating grief after the loss of a father while being estranged from a mother. The emotional complexity of dealing with two significant losses is explored, alongside reflections on the process of grieving and the lessons learned from a child’s perspective.