Sometimes It’s Just About Loss
We really do have time machines these days.
Have you ever used Google Maps to go back and look at a childhood neighborhood? See how things have changed. See how they haven’t.
I moved around a lot as a kid, so there are lots of locations to look up. Each one with particular memories of people and events. Funny thing is that I remember very few of the kids I played with but visual memories of the adults and locations are still very strong. Memory is a weird how it hangs onto some things and lets other things go.
A shock came when I found that old haunts were not older but completely missing. In small rural towns, with red brick grade schools that were probably built in the 1920’s, I found that they had been replaced by neat little blocks of homes. I expected this of larger cities I had lived in but imagined that small towns stay in pretty much the same condition over the years. Funny thing, assumptions.
Church Ghosts
As a little preacher’s kid, some of the musty old churches we lived around used to creep me out. There is something supernatural in a kid’s mind about the noises and smells that an old gothic church can produce. Creaking timbers, along with resident birds and bats providing the necessary small sounds in the dark, the scene was always complete for the imagination of a child. Almost certain of ghosts still inhabiting the buildings, adrenaline-filled moments abounded. This also gave the construction character – a personality.
When Google Maps showed a vacant lot instead the still decrepit sanctuary in Oconto, WI, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. Something that had provided vivid experiences was now just gone.
Steps Along the Way
So, what does all of this wandering down memory lane have to do with parenting parents?
It is about loss. It’s about inevitability.
As a parent declines and roles become reversed, part of the past is lost. As their inevitable decline in their health occurs, we lose a little of the person they used to be on a daily basis. With it, we move from creating to remembering. When the day of the final separation finally happens, another door is firmly closed on the past. We move forward, stronger in character and permanently changed from the person we once were.
Loss builds us.
COVID Loss
As caregivers, knowing what we know, we are willing to be brave. This willingness to step into the unknown, like common sense, is far less abundant in society.
Caregivers possess a tolerance for loss in daily life. In these times of pandemic, I have a quietly strong acceptance of COVID outcomes for myself and those around me. The Scientist in me kicks in for a dispassionate view on death as the virus works its way through the world population. It is not a lack of empathy but because of empathy that I do not fear what is happening. I understand and accept the biological outcomes as part of Life only because I am well-acquainted with death and loss already. COVID is just a variation on the theme.
Since Nature doesn’t care what we want, we hope only to survive well and with as much grace as we can muster. At the appropriate times, we will mourn and bury our dead and move on. It’s the only constructive choice available.
Endings
There is a natural rhythm to our understanding as a graduate of the caregiving experience. We see the progression of time in the faces of friends and family. More accurately, we accept that progression of time in their faces and circumstances. We toast missing individuals at celebrations with an understanding of what it means to be alive and remembering. We learn that loss has been part of the landscape of living all along. It just took us time and experience to arrive at where we have always been.
