Orphan

When my mother passed away March 30, 2011, I became motherless and an empty place opened up in my heart and especially in my life.  When my father passed away March 22, 2012, I became an orphan and the empty place grew.  I suppose in time that will fill with other things as the sharp pain of missing them begins to dissipate.  But for now, it is large and dark and empty, reopened from the healing that had happened over the past year at the time of my father's death.

I didn't really expect to think of myself as an orphan.  But within a few days, when I was still at my sister's house in Houston, TX where my parents had lived the last few years, and they were not there to visit or hug and talk to, it began to hit home.  The trunk of our family tree, formed by these two people who loved each other so deeply that nothing could separate them, had gone from sight.  What was left were the branches clinging clumsily to each other, their roots pulled up as far as their eyes could see.  But those roots are still there, just not where we are used to them being and if we simply continue to cling, this family will remain solid and whole.

Now that I am home, that feeling has remained.  I've been so busy with work because it's tax season, that I've hardly had a chance to mourn privately.  But I have had a chance to feel parentless - the feeling that is being an orphan.  Of course, all of us eventually become just that; when our parents are gone from this earth and we are left alone.  For some, I think the pain is sharper - those without siblings who will mourn alone, like my daughter.  And my hope for her is that she is married with children when that time comes in her life so that the emptiness is not so large.  And I hope her cousins will surround her, then, too.

My dad was not perfect, as none of us are, but he loved me and I, him and I know he did his best.  My memories will be the ones I most want to have - those sweet moments when he said he was proud of me, supported me in my decisions, told me I was beautiful or a good person or "have it right" with my religious beliefs.  That last one was when my mother died and he asked me to gather our family to pray together.  We did, at her funeral and again at his.

My peace of mind comes from knowing these two people, people I was blessed to have in my life for the 50 years I did, are together after 65 years of marriage.  I see them in my mind's eye walking together, holding hands, going about the Lord's work - together.  This time, no separation will come between them.  And I know they extend their arms to us, wrapping us - their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren - in an embrace to hold us to them and thus, to each other.

I will tell you, there have been countless times I wanted to reach for the phone to call my mom; to update her on things, tell her something interesting or funny.  And so, countless times I have missed her so deeply it is hard to describe.  There are times I just want to hear my dad's voice, even when he could no longer form full sentences, but more so when he could.  There are a couple of books I've read I would have loved to tell him about, gotten his take on it.

It was much more difficult than I imagined it would be not being there at the time my dad passed away.  So when I saw him for the first time since my mother's funeral, lying in his casket, I burst into tears.  I wish I'd been able to kiss his face while it was warm and soft, while it was my daddy's face, while his soul still lingered there.  But I know one day I will feel his arms around me, hear his voice speak to me again.

My dad's favorite hymn, and so the hymn we sang at both funerals, was Abide With Me, 'Tis Eventide.  A couple of Sunday's ago, we sang it at church.  Well, everyone else sang it.  I could not hold my tears.  Next time will be easier.

I miss you both so much, Mom and Dad.  I feel you with me sometimes and I know we'll be together again one day.  Until then, my heart sees you together as you have always been.