10 Things That Changed Me After the Death of a Parent
The relationships children have with their parents are unlike any other. They take care of us when we can’t fend for ourselves and provide encouragement when nothing seems to be going right. Unconditional love knows no bounds.
Relationship and life strategy coach Lisa Schmidt lost her parents and wrote a powerful tribute to what that truly feels like. She tells of how it’s affected her in the long run and in every day life. She also tells us positive thoughts she still takes away from losing her parents. Her vulnerable story and the wisdom within it are truly inspiring.
Read Lisa’s “10 Things That Changed Me After the Death of a Parent” below:
“I don’t think there is anything that can prepare you to lose a parent. It is a larger blow in adulthood I believe, because you are at the point where you are actually friends with your mother or father. Their wisdom has finally sunk in and you know that all of the [stuff] you rolled your eyes at as a teenager really was done out of love and probably saved your life a time or two.
I lost both of mine two years apart; my mother much unexpected and my father rather quickly after a cancer diagnosis. My mom was the one person who could see into my soul and could call me out in the most effective way. She taught me what humanity, empathy and generosity means. My father was the sarcastic realist in the house and one of the most forgiving people I have ever met. If you wanted it straight, with zero [filter]; just go ask my dad.
Grief runs its course and it comes in stages, but I was not prepared for it to never fully go away.
1. My phone is never more than 1 foot away from me at bedtime, because the last time I did that I missed the call that my mother died.
2. The very thought of my mother’s death, at times, made me physically ill for about six months after she died. I literally vomited.
3. Their deaths have at times ripped the remainder of our family apart. I did my best to honor their wishes and sometimes that made me the bad guy. The burden of that was immense, but I understood why I was chosen. It made me stronger as a person, so for that I am grateful.
4. I’m pissed that my son didn’t get to experience them as grandparents. I watched it five times before his birth and I feel robbed. He would have adored them and they him.
5. I would not trade my time with them for anything, but sometimes I think it would have been easier had you died when I was very young. The memories would be less.
6. Don’t [complain] about your parents in front of me. You will get an earful about gratitude and appreciation. As a “Dead Parents Club” member, I would take your place in a heartbeat, so shut your mouth. Get some perspective on how truly fleeting life is.
7. It’s like being a widow — a “club” you never wanted to join. Where do I return this unwanted membership, please?
8. Other club members are really the only people who can truly understand what it does to a person. They just get it. There is no other way to explain it.
9. Life does go on, but there will be times even years later, you will still break down like it happened yesterday.
10. When you see your friends or even strangers with their mom or dad, you will sometimes be jealous. Envious of the lunch date they have. Downright pissed that your mom can’t plan your baby shower. Big life events are never ever the same again.
Here I sit eight and ten years later and there are still times that I reach for the phone when something exciting happens. Then it hits me; [shoot], I can’t call them.
Their deaths have forever changed me and how I look at the world. In an odd way it has made me a better parent. I am always acutely aware of what memories can mean to my son and how I will impact his life while I am on this earth. He deserves to know how much he is loved and when I am gone, what I teach and instill in him now, will be my legacy.
Lisa Schmidt is a Dating and Relationship coach in Detroit and the author of her own blog. She streams regularly on Periscope and is contributor for several online publications.
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Article used with permission of Lisa Schmidt