The older I get, the more I realize losing my parents isn't something that happened the one time.
It has happened over and over again.
It happened when my car made a strange noise and I reached for the phone before remembering my Oldman isn't there to tell me what he thinks it might be. It happened when life throws a problem at me and I find myself wanting to hear my mom’s voice for just five minutes.
It happens on bad days. Days when I am fucking tired. Days when being an adult feels like a lousy deal. Days when I just want to walk into my parent’s home and get into my old bed.
When we are young, we think losing our parents is about funerals. We think grief is crying, prayer cards, flowers, and tuna casseroles.
The truth is grief sneaks up years later. It arrives when we need advice. When we need reassurance. When we need someone to listen.
We come into this world naked and confused, handed to two people who somehow know exactly what to do. They spend years teaching us how to walk, talk, work, love, pray, drive, and survive. Then one day they are gone and we are expected to continue the journey without them.
Nobody warned us about that part. Nobody warned us that one of the hardest parts of growing older is realizing our emergency contacts are disappearing.
Friends move.
Families drift apart.
People get busy.
The phone gets quieter and the text messages get shorter.
We have never been more connected and yet so many of us have never felt more alone.
I still talk to those people who have gone up to heaven. My parents, old friends that left too soon, mentors who shared their wisdom and relatives that I miss spending the holidays with.
Most days it helps, but every now and then I wish one of them would answer back. Not with some profound wisdom or even taking the liberty of bullshitting me.
Just enough to say, "I'm listening." Or maybe, "You're doing better than you think."
Or maybe the words every tired son still wants to hear: "It's going to be alright, this too shall pass"
Maybe that is why we need each other. Not to solve every problem. Not to carry every burden. Just to remind one another that none of us are walking this road alone. Even on the days it feels that way.
I put the Chicago baseball club’s records in the Grabber section. I am blessed to have seen my White Sox win the final game of the 2005 season. My mom was a Cub fan. She passed in May of 2016. The beginning of the season when the Cubs won their last game. My Oldman was a Saint Louis Browns fan. He was a miserable son of a bitch during every baseball season.
We have one less day to find astonishment and Gusto. Go get it and enjoy June you magnificent Chalkheads.
