DEEP QUESTIONS Vol.2: Death

Okay, this one will be a huge downer, but it's interesting and could be helpful to several forum members.

The topic is: the death of your parents.

Both of mine are alive, and I generally never ever think of the topic. I can't really imagine it happening, to be honest. I was watching a play that tackled the subject this weekend - and it kind of hit me like a ton of bricks. Whether or not I wanted to, I was going to have to deal with this intensely emotional event at some time in the future.

I always used to think that I'd hear about my parents dying - I always assumed it would be a phone call or something. Don't know why, it's just the way I thought of it in the times I rarely did. I now realize that it will probably be me sitting next to them on their death bed, present for it. I'm generally not very emotional or open with my parents - it's just the way I ended up. Which I think will make it all the harder as I can't help but imagine sitting there next to them on the hospital bed and just completely losing it. I wonder what kind of things I will regret and what I will wish I did differently. I wonder if it will change the way I live my life going forward even though they aren't even there anymore. I wonder if it will bring me a lot closer to the parent that's still around. As an only child, I might be their only emotional support.

I guess I'm just wondering, for those of you that have experienced the loss of a parent, what has it made you realize about yourself, your relationship with your parents, and about life in general? What kind of things did it make you wish you did differently.

I know the obvious answers are "I wish I spent more time with them" or "I wish I had been nicer to them or more grateful", etc. but hopefully some less intuitive stuff comes out of this as well.

I liked the WifeSex one much more, don't want to think about parents dying.

I hope I get Pops' vintage Brooks ties when he kicks it. I'm pretty sure I'm first in line.

Love ya old man!

Originally Posted by randallr

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I liked the WifeSex one much more, don't want to think about parents dying.
+1

My dad was 60-something when they had me. Let's put it this way; he was born before WWI. So he was a geezer when I was born. But he was a big, strong, mean geezer that knew how to fight. He was an imposing figure of a man.

So one day, 9 year old me goes to school. Nine year old me comes home, to find my aunt and uncle waiting for me and my younger sister (can you believe he had ANOTHER kid after me? ******* bull he was). They say my dad wasn't feeling good, mom will be home soon.

Well mom comes in, and she tells us the old man is dead.

Not only does that suck, him dying with no savings and/or life insurance sucks. Ensures my youth is spent in poverty. Ensures I get to do fun things, like bust ****** to buy the family a car at 16, because my fat lazy good for nothing mother doesn't work.

And then, nearly 30 years later, I have a great life, and have had a great life for a long time.

How's that for a good story?

Death is a weird topic for me. My dad died a little over a year ago. I'm a little bit uncomfortable saying this, but it was actually a relief in a way. A brief history...

My family had begun to notice early symptoms of frontotemporal dementia almost fifteen years earlier. His symptoms steadily progressed every year to the point where he had to give up his job as a systems analyst around seven years ago, IIRC. Up to that point, his main symptom was difficulty communicating, especially on the telephone, and occasional "eccentric" behavior. But after losing his job, his symptoms started rapidly multiplying: disorientation, behavioral issues, etc. We started to notice ALS symptoms about a year before his death. About six months after, he started tripping and falling and had to be constantly watched, because he would try to walk on his own. He was in bed for the last couple of weeks, and then died quietly one afternoon.

So although I feel guilty for saying it, I have to admit his death was a relief, and in a way, anticlimactic. The last year or two was a living hell for my family, my mom especially. The absolute worst part of it was the unpredictability of his behavior. During the early parts of his illness, he could be carrying on a very intelligent conversation one minute, and not be able to speak a coherent sentence the next. During the last year or two, he could be perfectly docile one minute and in a rage the next minute. This was especially difficult, because normally he was actually one of the most intelligent, non-violent people you would ever want to meet. And yeah, I know it's cliched to speak of dead parents as being smart and nice, but he was. (I inherit my pacifism and brilliance from him. )

So...yeah. That's more than I intended to write, but the point is...umm...I guess I'm not sure what the point is. I guess the hardest part for me was that I never really did get to know him. I don't have any memory of him without FTD. I'm only nineteen and his ability to communicate was rapidly degenerating by the time I was ten. So as I was developing my power to have an intelligent conversation, he was losing his.

Anyway...that's that. Hope it offers a different perspective. I have to say, I don't even want to think about losing my mom.

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes - some harder than others - but all basically the same. When they are gone take what you need to continue - as they did when they lost your grandparents.
To everything there is a season..........

My father died of a heart attack last may, though he had been in renal failure and on dialasis for about a year so it wasn't altogether unexpected. Overall I have been most suprised that I haven't had any "second thoughts" or regrets. Actually I hadn't talked to him in a few weeks and had calling him on my "to do" list the day that he died. The way I see it he must have known the truth about how I felt about him anyways - we weren't particulary close, but I loved him some nonetheless. There's no real tragedy here; he could have been a better father, I could have been a better son but neither one of us was and we still had a civil relationship.

Originally Posted by ccc123

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Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes - some harder than others - but all basically the same. When they are gone take what you need to continue - as they did when they lost your grandparents.
To everything there is a season..........

damn well put.

My father was sick for the better part of my life. His decline was gradual, and I kind of removed myself from the situation as a way to cope with it. I went to school on the other side of the country, so I didn't have to deal with the crap at home (my family is still mad at me for this). My father was in pain 24/7, but never complained about it. He was very well respected, and I remember one of his friends making a remark about how he wishes my father could live forever, to which he replied, "Please don't ever wish that upon me."

I remember getting a call one day from my family urging me to come home that weekend because he wasn't doing well and doctors said only had a couple of months left. This news shouldn't have come as a shock to me, but it did. I was so emotional that day and I remember calling my best friend and he came over and picked me up. We went up to the lookout and just talked for a bit and I just broke down in tears. It was probably one of the most emotional moments of my life, first because I was accepting the fact that my father would be gone shortly, and second because this was the moment that my best friend became my brother. His act of kindness in picking me up and spending time with me was something that I will never forget. You have to understand that I grew up with him and we moved to the other side of the country together. I had no one else to talk to and he was there for me when I needed him the most.

When I flew home, my father was so frail and it was such a hard weekend. He was 68, but he looked like he was 90. He could barely speak, but I'm sure he understood what I was saying and I told him to hang in there and I would be back in 6 weeks for Christmas. He passed away a couple of weeks later. I remember getting the phone call like yesterday. It was a Friday night. I was home alone. My brother called me in tears saying he was gone. I said okay and hung up. I didn't cry or really feel any emotion, because in the back of my mind I had been expecting this day for the past few weeks, and the tears I shed at the lookout with my friend were basically my 'goodbye' tears. I remember going over to my buddies place right after and it was kind of awkward because they were offering me their condolences but I didn't show an ounce of emotion. It wasn't until the funeral, when I put the flowers over his casket that the tears just started gushing. It was a really hard day for me and it was a turning point in my life. I love my family, but my father was really the only one that understood me. We were friends more than anything, so it was really hard.

Overall, I have regrets but I don't let them eat at me. My father kind of lived two lives, one before he had me, and one after he had me. His life story is so remarkable and I'm still learning bits and pieces of it. When I look back at pictures of him as a youth, he had so much style and class and we look exactly the same so it's kind of like looking into a mirror. I think about him every day, and I live each day like he would have wanted me to live them, full of integrity, honesty, and happiness. I try not to think what would happen if I lost my mother or father.

Sorry for the long post, but once I started typing it just kept flowing.

As for when my mother goes, I'm not sure how I'll handle it. I am closer to her than I was to my father, but still not all that close. However when she goes I'll be fully in charge of my defective siblings . . . Really the only person I think I would be crushed by the loss of is my BFF DJ as he is the only person I really talk to about personal stuff.

Originally Posted by Jekyll

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Death is a weird topic for me. My dad died a little over a year ago. I'm a little bit uncomfortable saying this, but it was actually a relief in a way. A brief history...

My family had begun to notice early symptoms of frontotemporal dementia almost fifteen years earlier. His symptoms steadily progressed every year to the point where he had to give up his job as a systems analyst around seven years ago, IIRC. Up to that point, his main symptom was difficulty communicating, especially on the telephone, and occasional "eccentric" behavior. But after losing his job, his symptoms started rapidly multiplying: disorientation, behavioral issues, etc. We started to notice ALS symptoms about a year before his death. About six months after, he started tripping and falling and had to be constantly watched, because he would try to walk on his own. He was in bed for the last couple of weeks, and then died quietly one afternoon.

So although I feel guilty for saying it, I have to admit his death was a relief, and in a way, anticlimactic. The last year or two was a living hell for my family, my mom especially. The absolute worst part of it was the unpredictability of his behavior. During the early parts of his illness, he could be carrying on a very intelligent conversation one minute, and not be able to speak a coherent sentence the next. During the last year or two, he could be perfectly docile one minute and in a rage the next minute. This was especially difficult, because normally he was actually one of the most intelligent, non-violent people you would ever want to meet. And yeah, I know it's cliched to speak of dead parents as being smart and nice, but he was. (I inherit my pacifism and brilliance from him.

)

So...yeah. That's more than I intended to write, but the point is...umm...I guess I'm not sure what the point is. I guess the hardest part for me was that I never really did get to know him. I don't have any memory of him without FTD. I'm only nineteen and his ability to communicate was rapidly degenerating by the time I was ten. So as I was developing my power to have an intelligent conversation, he was losing his.

Anyway...that's that. Hope it offers a different perspective. I have to say, I don't even want to think about losing my mom.

I'm sorry to hear that man. My maternal grandmother is the same way, she has pretty bad episodes of dementia sometimes, breathes through a hole in her throat, eats through a hole in her stomach, cannot speak, and can barely see and hear. Luckily my family has the means to keep her alive on a respirator and a cocktail of countless pills a day.

I never really got to know her that well outside of the stories my mother tells me. I think that like your father when he was alive, my grandmother is kind of in a state of purgatory now where life just isn't pleasant. Sometimes she gathers the strength to speak and raves about death and going to heaven. It sounds callous to say this but in her state, it will be almost a release I think. Not saying that I wish for it but when she goes, I hope it's more peaceful for her than her life is now.

Originally Posted by robertorex

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I'm sorry to hear that man. My maternal grandmother is the same way, she has pretty bad episodes of dementia sometimes, breathes through a hole in her throat, eats through a hole in her stomach, cannot speak, and can barely see and hear. Luckily my family has the means to keep her alive on a respirator and a cocktail of countless pills a day.
This is one thing I am very thankful for, that my dad never went on any kind of artificial life support. Until the last few months when he started choking, he was able to eat normally. After he started choking on solid food, he had ground and processed foods and liquids, until the last week or so, when he had to struggle to get liquids down.

My god, I wish people would not torture dementia patients with feeding tubes, etc. If nature has removed the ability to eat from you, let people die in peace and dignity. No one "gets better" from late stage dementia. Families just torture people because they'd rather have them alive and suffering than dead and at peace, for their own selfish reasons. Oh yeah, and the tax payers pick up the tab. Make that end of life extraordinary measures out of pocket, and a lot fewer people would get tortured in such a fashion.

My father was killed before I was even born, so my mother was all I had. We lived with her parents until they died. My grandmother's death was so quick and peaceful we couldn't mourn much--she literally died laughing. She was 76, which we deemed quite old in those days. My grandfather was very difficult--an erratic, sometime violent alcoholic--so his death about 14 months later was a relief. He was a very accomplished man in many ways, a rather tragic figure in all.

I was unusually close to my mother's brother and sister as well. My aunt went in 1992. My mother died in 1996. She had had serious health problems for 30 years, so she had really beaten the odds to have lived until 77, which was a major consolation to me. She had been out partying two nights before she keeled over, and when she did, she was barking out orders to the paramedics one moment, the next she was gone--very like her! My uncle had a bad stroke in 1993 and his last six years were rough. He was bedridden for the last couple of years and his mind started to go. He died in 1999. Liquidating the old family home was very hard on me--my people had been living there since 1915, and seeing countless family treasures and mementoes (many of which dated back to the early 19th century) go out the door during the estate sale was very rough.

This was a season of my life I had looked forward to with dread for many years. My wife was a great help in getting me through the whole business. My dogs were a great consolation as well. However, once the estate was settled and I was able to get a little perspective on the matter, I felt a great sense of relief that an ordeal I had always dreaded was back of me, and I am unlikely to face anything similar again. So far, anyway, I have never lost anyone I really loved out of due season, and I hope matters stay that way...although some good pals of mine have gone down before their time, and I have lost some great dogs when they were far too young.

In general, it is fitting and proper that the parents should die before the child. If they've had a reasonably long and good life, I think we should be content with that.

As a postscript, I think the fact that I had an unusually close relationship with my mother made things easier. We had often talked about death, and I knew she was ready to face it with the dignity and courage she always had. There were no things that I might have wished to say that I had left unsaid, no guilt about having neglected her or not having been closer to her--nothing like that. When she went, they had hauled her off to the hospital and tried to revive her. I knew she would never be as good as she had been if they brought her back, and she would have a few more years of lingering existence that would hang heavy on her. Thus, when I got the news she was dead, it came as a relief to me. I knew it was what she would have wanted. I simply gave the Roman salute and said, "Farewell, great Mother."