Preparing the Heart for Loss

By Danielle Legg, I Start Wondering Columnist

Danielle joins her sister and father in a hug.

When I was a young girl, I was laying on the couch to watch a TV show where a mother of several young children died of an illness. 

The show’s premise scared me, and I wondered if that could happen to me.  Not wanting to imagine myself in a similar situation, I asked my mother to promise me she wouldn’t die. She looked at me and said, “I can’t promise you that.” 

At the time, her response seemed cold and harsh, since I just wanted reassurance that she wouldn’t leave me behind. But my mother was trying to be practical; she didn’t want to promise me something that she had no control over. 

We could endlessly debate about how a parent should respond to this type of question that was sparked by a television show’s fictional plot. Nevertheless, this memory remained etched in my brain because, as a child, I had taken it for granted that my parents would be around for a very long time.

Yet that memory eventually faded as time passed. The idea of my parents passing away never really crossed my mind again until my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2011. In that moment, I grieved the disease, and I grieved the future loss of my mother – a loss that would occur much sooner than I wanted or was ready for. 

If you are blessed enough to still have your parents in your life, how do you prepare for the day that they are no longer here? Is it even possible? 

Preparing for the Inevitable

Danielle's father

When I look back at my life, I realize now that I have experienced many difficult and challenging situations of loss, including the deaths of relatives as well as staff members and students when I was a school administrator. 

As a school administrator, each loss was a nuanced, delicate situation that challenged me to maintain my own emotional balance while also understanding what my staff and wider school community were going through. During these difficult times, I had to lead with compassion and care while keeping the “ship moving” in the right direction. 

Each situation gave me the opportunity to learn a little more about myself and who I want to be as a human being during times of great distress. 

And then it dawned on me: these experiences might be preparing me for a future profound loss – the loss of my father – and could help soften this experience when it comes.

Don’t get me wrong; my dad is in amazing shape for his age, probably ranking in the top 10% of men in their 80s. The last time we played pickleball, he won. He skied with us during Spring Break and likes to brag that because of his age, he skis for free!  He is traveling, doing art projects, and still working a little throughout the year. 

But I also have noticed that my dad is becoming more fragile, moving a little slower and sometimes repeating things. The fact is that if I am lucky, I will have a good 10, maybe 15 more years with him. Those numbers seem so finite, so small. 

Anticipatory Grief

Danielle and her father

I wondered if I was alone, the only one to experience thoughts of a parent’s limited time left on this earth.  But then I stumbled upon some articles that gave a name – “anticipatory grief” – and described what I am feeling.  The definition, according to the article  What is Anticipatory Grief?, is a complex emotional process that occurs before a loss, which could be anything from a terminal illness to a breakup or even estrangement. 

It dawned on me that I already had experienced this grief in a different way with my mom. As she moved through the stages of Alzheimer's, I grieved each milestone moment. When she lost her words, couldn’t use a fork, or forgot who I was, I grieved. I mourned as the disease unfolded step by step, all along the way. 

For my dad, it isn't a milestone moment. Instead, it’s noticing the slight changes that hint at his aging. It’s the realization that the average life expectancy for men is 76.5 years old. My dad is nearly a decade past that!

I imagine my dad as a blanket that I keep handily available and can pull out when I need warmth, comfort and security. When I imagine the day that my dad is gone, I wonder who I will talk to when I have a big decision to make. Who will have a deep philosophical conversation with me or challenge me to be better? Who will I call to share a celebration?  What will it feel like to know he is not there? Will I be ready to face this world without him? 

Building on the Lessons

Ultimately, we are all living on borrowed time. And so I will focus on what each of my parents has instilled in me and the gifts they have given me that will carry me forward. I choose to reframe the pain into gratitude, carrying a deep appreciation for every moment given with both of my parents. 

I am learning to be the matriarch of the family, the top tier. It will be my job to be wise and knowledgeable. Will I be able to fill both of my parents' shoes? 

Danielle’s father and two of his grandchildren

Until then, I am preparing, not by making sure his paperwork is in order, but preparing my heart. 

I will spend more time with him and treasure each moment.  

I will not leave things left unsaid.

I will ask questions, listen, and learn from him. 

I will forgive and let go, for he is human, an imperfect soul, as am I. 

And I also notice that he is preparing us, my sister and me. 

He spends more time with us. 

He doesn’t leave things unsaid. 

He answers questions, listens attentively, and learns from us. 

He forgives and lets go, for he believes that life is full of opportunities to do so. 

Moving Forward

If this writing finds you without your parents, maybe their passing was peaceful. Perhaps you had minimal conflicts throughout your lives, a result of a perfect childhood, as they say. Cherish that as a blessing. 

But, maybe, just maybe, some things were left unsaid, questions weren’t answered and some wounds are still carried deep within. Maybe you didn’t have the opportunity to prepare for this loss. I will be sharing my own experience of this in a separate blog space, so stay tuned.

And so, I imagine THE day, that day, when my father transitions to the other side. I imagine my family will surround him at that moment, united in our grief. I imagine there will be signs; he will be here still, but in spirit. I imagine still being comforted by him, still feeling his warmth and security. I imagine that the timing will be perfect, just as it should be. I imagine that God has prepared me well and that I will be able to accept it and move along – without Dad’s physical presence – in this life. 

I imagine I will be forever grateful for the unconditional love he showed me and that I can carry that love with me, spreading it throughout the rest of my own life. I imagine.