It's Been Twenty Years

Two decades

have gone by

you are in my

thoughts

often

still grieving

silently

as you were cheated

of experiences

to embrace

of memories

that could have

been shared

of advice that

wanted to be

recieived

I’m now the age

you were

when your

time was cut

short

you were

too young

with still much

to give

the unfairness

consumes me

at times

jolting me to

my core

I realized at the turn of this year’s birth date that Dad was my current age when he lost his cancer battle. I feel melancholic as memories of what he went through flood my heart and mind. He bravely fought the pain, not wanting to burden anyone with what was really going on internally, and chose to keep living as best he could until those last couple of days in the hospital. Every time I think about it, I swallow hard and feel my eyes well up.

We were all busy going about our lives as Dad was valiantly continuing his own, knowing what lay ahead. Then he was gone. I cannot imagine what was going through his mind knowing time was short, but his demeanor appeared resolute up until the last couple of days. I remember kissing him on the cheek the last time I saw him alive. He mistook me for Mom when we said goodbye. He was entering a state of delirium, which is common when bodily organs begin to fail.

I cannot fathom how the end comes for some; how does it present itself in the mind of those on the verge of death? Does the subconscious fire up a slide show of a life lived? Few have the opportunity to voice what is happening as delirium takes over and they are unable to speak.

Before Dad, I had never experienced someone so close to me slowly and painfully die. It is an awakening that ebbs and flows after the fact, randomly triggered and out of the blue. Bizarre, heartbreaking, and mysterious. The unknown is with us every day and is nothing we should fear because of its constant presence, but society sends us there anyway. It feeds on our despair and holds us there unless we snap out of it on our own, which for many is just too damn difficult.

The fact that it’s the twentieth anniversary of his death is striking me fairly hard. The timing has been an eye-opener, generating considerable reflection and gratitude. Memories of both my parents have been flooding my brain via photos, certain smells, places, parental phrases/advice, and all kinds of foods. Oh, the beauty and pain of sensory-laden memories.

I am now the age when their lives changed irrevocably. My dad was physically gone at the age of 67, and the age my mother began to fade into the abyss of an unyielding grief. Having now gone through my own cancer diagnosis this year, I have drawn upon the strength my dad exhibited while dealing with his physical pain and the emotional toll, which was monumental compared to the hand I was dealt. I beat the odds of a more dire prognosis, and I’m not taking that with a grain of salt.

As for my mother, she, too, was strong, but after Dad’s death was not able to summon that strength with regard to her own will to carry on. I will continue to draw upon what they both taught me. The faith I have in myself, and have tightly held within my soul for years, is what moves me to do the things my parents would have wanted to do with their time if it had been given back to them.

Thank you for taking the time to read my words.

Michelle

Michelle Lindblom Studio

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