Five (ish) tips for when you lose a parent

My mom died four weeks ago today, peacefully, on the morning of July 16, 2017, a few hours after I stood in the middle of my street before dawn, watching a brilliant orange sunrise and listening to the thought that came from somewhere beyond reason and said, "My mother is going to die today."

My father died almost 17 years ago, and his death left me completely broken, and for months I felt as though I were drowning in grief. This time, I knew what that looked like, and I know my way out. When it became clear that my mom wouldn't survive, I began mentally making this list, and I want to share it with you, family and friends, in hopes that it may help you when it's time to say goodbye to a parent.

What you can do right now:

1. If at all possible, see to it that your parent writes down explicit wishes for what they want to happen if they get really sick. My dad was young - 68 - when he died, and he had all of his wit about him until the end, and so he was able to make all the decisions, including the decision to stop trying to save his life. About five years ago, my mom, my husband, and I went to a lawyer, and he did whatever the heck lawyers do so that we could legally make decisions for my mom. Having someone cooly walk you through all the ways in which your parent might possibly suffer was a bit overwhelming and emotional for me. I spent the last weeks of my mom's life lugging around a document I had barely glanced at in years. But when it was clear she was dying, I read the whole dang thing, and it was a comfort to know EXACTLY what my mom wanted. I knew I was honoring her wishes, and that was the last, beautiful, priceless gift she gave me.

My advice for when your parent is dying:


2. Please consider hospice care. There are lots of misconceptions about hospice care. Here's a helpful list from Optimal Hospice Care, the folks who cared for my mom, and me, in her last days: Myths and facts Their whole job is keeping the patient comfortable and taking care of the family and friends who love the patient. Once hospice care came in, they took over in ways that allowed me to just sit with my mom and be fully present for those last days. They answered all my questions and empowered me with information and support at a time when I most needed information and support.

3. Read this book.

It was part of the packet given to me by the hospice people. It's a quick read, maybe 20 minutes or so from cover to cover, but it was the best, most helpful information I've ever encountered on the topic of losing a loved one.

Also called The Little Blue Book, this slim resource educated me on the physical and emotional process of dying.

I realized my mom had been going through the process of dying for weeks (and I didn't recognize it or hear it when her caregivers told me).

This book made clear each stage in the process of leaving this world, with specific details on what it looks like and what you can do for your loved one.

I wish I had read it earlier.

I wish I had read each book in the series.

You can find them here: Barbara Karnes' End of Life Guideline Series





When your parent is gone:

4. One important lesson I learned from working through the grief of losing my father is this: When someone makes a specific offer of assistance, take it. Even if you don't actually want or need it.

Case in point: A few hours after my mom died, one of my closest friends said she was dropping by on her way out of town. I love this person like crazy, but I was a mess. My whole being was shaken from the experience of watching my mother die, and I hadn't moved from the couch since I returned home. But, see lesson above. The doorbell rang, my heart sank, I pulled myself off the couch ... and within a few minutes of her arrival, I was able to start the process of dealing with what was happening by talking to someone I love and trust, someone with whom I can let my guard down. Her visit gave my husband a needed break from watching over me and lifted my spirits.

Another case in point: My partner from a summer gig and I had paperwork due. She very graciously and generously agreed to complete the task herself, and while I could have done it, see lesson above. I didn't need to be a hero and plow through this obligation when someone else offered to take that task off my plate. Not having to complete this item opened up my time, and more importantly, my psyche to focus on dealing with my grief.

Say yes to those offers.

5. Take care of yourself in every way possible for as long as you need. You are rebuilding a whole new life. When we lose a parent, it's like the fabric of our existence is ripped, and we need time to mend it into whatever it will be now.

In order to say yes to all the emotions and insight and opportunities for growth, I had to say no to a few social events, unnecessary chores, and a doctoral program I planned to start this month. When my dad died, I wanted to be better, and the people who cared for me wanted me to be better, so I made myself take on more than I should have, sooner than I should have, and I regret it.

Now I know I'll be a better person for taking this time to adjust. And I'll get back in the game wiser, stronger, and better able to be effective at the stuff that's important to me.

Some specific tips for self-care:

5a. Since my mother became ill, I have found classical music particularly comforting. In the days surrounding her death, I had trouble sleeping, and I struggled to keep my mind from constantly racing. I discovered that when I played classical music, especially Bach, it helped me to wind down and to sleep.

I have an Alexa, and some nights the Bach playlist continued until dawn. Here's a youtube video of Bach's cello suites I'd recommend: Put on some Yo Yo Ma and let yourself heal

5b. Let your pets comfort you as much as possible. We all have busy lives, and while my husband has been both a rock and a soft place to land through all this, he has stuff to do, too. So do my friends and my colleagues and all the people who have sent condolences and offers to help. But your pet, and particularly in my case, my German shepherd mix, pretty much lives for me (and elk antlers). I made sure I carved out lots of time to sit and let my pets cuddle and love on me.

5c. Perhaps most important, and something you actually can start right now, is this: Know yourself and how you operate.

I know that when I'm really stressed, not just end-of-a-tiring-day stressed but truly challenged, I have difficulty making decisions. I also know that I'll take crushing guilt over the reality that I can't control everything. These two forces mingle behind the barriers of my mind until something dramatic hits, and then, like the Kool-Aid dude, they come crashing through the walls of my everyday life.

Because I know this, I saw them coming.

I still felt like crap for days, and sometimes still do. I feel guilty about not putting my mom in hospice care sooner, I feel guilty about working during the summer when I didn't really have to work, and I feel a sort of opaque, general guilt. But my adult brain can talk to my lizard brain, and the educated, mature, professional in me can tell 7-year-old me that feeling guilt means I feel responsible, and if I'm responsible for something, that means I have some sort of control over it.

Not feeling guilt means I have to confront the fact that I have no control over these things, and it's ok to take a break from reality, feel guilty for a bit, and then get back to dealing with the heavy truth that I cannot keep an 82-year-old woman who is overtaken by cancer alive by my sheer force of will and love, and I'm just as human as the rest of us.

And when it came to decisions, I just didn't make them. If the calendar demanded a decision, the answer was no. I have too much work to do, learning to live without the woman who brought me into this world, to vacillate on every option.

Figure out how you handle profound stress and challenge, and pay special attention to coping methods that are harmful to you. Acknowledge those coping mechanisms and talk to yourself about them in the same way a loving, protective parent would talk to you. Act accordingly.

So, for what it's worth, that's my advice. I hope when you need it you find it helpful.