I am an adult orphan. Many of my friends (some of them younger
than I, but many nearly the same age) are getting the opportunity to nurture
their aging parents through these second half of life challenges. They care for
them in their homes, or visit them in residential facilities. They get to
continue to make memories.
They are setting a standard of care, loving their aging parents the way they
hope their children will love and care for them. It is beautiful.
My mother died early on, just before I turned 13. It was a year
of tragedy and family distress. Her death was almost non-climatic in comparison
to all the other things that were going on then. I was, of course, too young to
take care for her. In my selfish-pre-teen drama, I’m pretty sure I thought she
died on purpose. That she chose smoking over being a mom to two little girls
(and two young adult girls). Of course she didn’t choose that, but it’s how I
processed it most of my younger life.
My father died later in life, but we were estranged for many
years before. He chose his 4th wife over all family, and no matter how much we
tried to expose her manipulation and deceitfulness, he wanted to marry her. It
was his grown-up decision, and he made that choice aware of her flaws. In the
15 years (or so) that he was married to her she continued to separate him from
all of his family and friends. He himself was quite the manipulator, so it’s
hard to think he was outsmarted at his own game.
His wife failed to contact us when he was dying and placed in a
hospital from the complications of his illnesses. She made no calls when he
died. Not his children, not his grandchildren. Not his nieces and nephews or
friends from his long career. Not the people he received his pension from (yes,
she continued to receive, and cash, his checks). She put incorrect information on his
death certificate, and had him cremated (which was his specification), and took his ashes with her. There
was no obituary released. There was no published record of his death.
It was a cold winter day, 4 months later, when my younger sister
happened to run across his death announcement while searching for him on the
Social Security records site.
I was a bit relieved when we found out he had passed. I had
already had confrontations with his wife the spring before, and on behalf of my
sister had asked the Sheriff to do a well-check on him because we could not get
in touch with him. We had many questions surrounding the circumstances of his
death, but as those slowly came together we were able to find out the answers
to them.
He did not die alone in their hoarder’s home, but in a hospital.
God, in His great mercy, allowed a dear friend of his to see him the day before
his passing, bringing him a bit of joy. We were able to obtain copies of his
death certificate, despite her strange answers to the questions on it, and it
had some basic information regarding his death. We were able to put together a
paid obituary and run it in the small town paper in the event anyone else tried
to search for him in the future.
I didn’t grieve his absence at that point, I grieved it later as
we became aware of the years leading up to his death. I grieved that my father,
who was normally a very strong, even manipulating person, allowed himself to
fall into such an unhealthy marriage relationship. I grieved that he made such
poor choices. I grieved when we found out she had been arrested for
shoplifting, while she had him in a wheelchair in the store. I grieved when we
saw the state of their home, over 4,000 square foot of filth and hoarded items,
from rooms filled with rolls of toilet paper to piles to the ceiling of
Christmas decorations. I grieved to learn that she had been investigated for
elder abuse against him. I grieved to learn she slipped through the cracks of the
investigation, and we found out that others had tried to help him to get out of
the house, out of the marriage, and he ultimately refused their help. I mourned
to hear the details of the concerns that others had, that they didn’t have a
way to get a hold of us to let us know, because she had deleted our phone
numbers from his phone as a part of her way of distancing him from his family.
She had also unplugged the house phone, so we could not ever get an answer from
him, and he had no way to call for help. I’m sure he didn’t ever imagine that
this would be the result of his poor decisions.
For the entire time they dated and before they married, different family
members disclosed their red flags about her behavior; lying, cheating,
hoarding. He chose her. When we invited them over, time and time again they
refused to come. Occasionally we would run into him at the local store, but
often they would walk away from us, as if they didn't see us.
It caused me stress and depression for several years, until one
day I learned that his absence in our life was, in itself, a gift from God.
Although we had a handful of fun memories of my dad with my children, most of
what he had caused us was heartbreak and stress. Our relationship was never
allowed to be a normal father-daughter one, and that was ok.
I can be sad for what we missed out on, but there’s no need to
camp out in grief. Uncovering the depth of their mental illnesses,
co-dependence, and source of their lying, I can see how deep their roots were
in sinfulness. Many times I prayed, “Lord, do whatever You need to do to bring
them to a loving relationship with You. Put other believers in their path to
point them to You.” Although he remained antagonistic and angry at our
relationship with Jesus, and our involvement with church, I believe that God
continued to put people in his path to help him see the goodness of God, to
recognize how much he was loved by the God that created him for a purpose.
And I
trust that there were sweet angel nurses at the hospital, caring for him in his
last days, and I’m certain that God did give him every opportunity to say “I
believe.”
How my dad responded is something that we won’t know until we
reach heaven…
Footnote:
There are many other things that took place in the relationship that I've chosen not to share here. Some of you may feel that we didn't do enough to rescue him from such a horrible situation, but please trust me that we did. The mental health issues that I did share were only a tip of the iceberg, there were other abuses that took place long before his death, and even before his marriage. Those are things that we are still processing. I loved my father, faults and all, and know that he felt he was being the best dad he could be with the knowledge of parenting that he had. I think he made poor decisions, but we all may at one time or another. Essentially, I believe that the distance God placed between my dad and our family was ultimately a blessing. It was a good example of not getting what you prayed for, and that it was not ideal, but it was ok, and God was in the midst of it. He still is walking with me, with other family members, through the process of grieving. He is our good, good, Father.
There are many other things that took place in the relationship that I've chosen not to share here. Some of you may feel that we didn't do enough to rescue him from such a horrible situation, but please trust me that we did. The mental health issues that I did share were only a tip of the iceberg, there were other abuses that took place long before his death, and even before his marriage. Those are things that we are still processing. I loved my father, faults and all, and know that he felt he was being the best dad he could be with the knowledge of parenting that he had. I think he made poor decisions, but we all may at one time or another. Essentially, I believe that the distance God placed between my dad and our family was ultimately a blessing. It was a good example of not getting what you prayed for, and that it was not ideal, but it was ok, and God was in the midst of it. He still is walking with me, with other family members, through the process of grieving. He is our good, good, Father.
#grieve #februaryfreewrite #hopewriters
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~marina