Losing both parents in less than a year is definitely not something that will ever happen again.
One never really gets over the passing of a parent, to put it bluntly.
When mother breathed her last that morning at the hospital after a couple of days of laboured breathing, a mix of emotion filled my heart. One of helplessness as we watch our mother slowly fade by our very eyes, mixed with that of catharsis - that her sufferings, both mental and physical have now ended, all at the dearest of prices to pay.
The machine she was hooked up to finally stopped beeping after over a night of elevated activity, the effects of a weakening body fighting for its survival. There was a long flat line with several minor, residual pulses as the attending doctor carried out the compulsory inspections before she was officially certified dead.
Mother was gone.
|Just an artsy photo break the wall of text - Light shining by David Pacey|
It felt all too familiar as Father was laid to rest no more than 11 months ago, only this time there will be one less from the family who will attend the funeral.
Father's circumstances was markedly different in which he had lived to the twilight years of his life, retired, spending all the time tending to his garden and helping out at home whenever he can. All obligations paid for, financially free and with all the time he has in the world. The children are all grown up and independent now, it was just a matter of filling time and go gracefully when the time comes.
And gracefully it was. Father was a man rarely unnerved. No regrets, not even in all the decades of chain smoking that pretty much sealed his doom. So he laid there in the hospital bed, going to sleep with the look that said, "I did all I could. Offer me some tears, then move on".
As my cousin and childhood friend mentioned during one of our meet ups in the afternoon back when I was home to help care for mother, one can have no say in how they will die, only in how they live.
So here I am, back again at life.