I’m not quite sure who you’d send this card to or when, but I appreciate its attempt to bring some levity to a thorny topic. Probably not a bestseller, though. Well, this particular Substack isn’t about outfits or cocktails or greeting cards. It’s about growing up.
I’ve eulogized two fathers, which is a blessing I still marvel at. I have been fortunate to be loved well by both a father and a stepfather, and been given the opportunity to send each of them off, to celebrate their character with love. This was not easy, but both instances were a kind of deeply meaningful, bittersweet beauty that broke my heart wide open.
These experiences don't make me an expert on losing parents, but I’m no longer a novice. I have come to understand this is part of what’s required in order to step into elderdom, demi or otherwise. Losing my fathers helped me grow up in ways I didn’t want but was ready for.
The list of difficult conversations in life is not short. One of them is what to say to a dear friend who has lost a parent. Once we cross over into adulthood it’s no longer a tragedy to lose a parent, but the chasm of grief is no less deep and real. And I’ve come to recognize that it’s simply going to happen more frequently as we age.
I’m sharing here a message I sent a friend after the loss of her father. She told me it meant a lot, not just to her but also to those with whom she shared it. So, I hope this will connect when or if you need it, providing a sliver of solace or a point of reference.
Laura Rubin:
Hello, love. How are you today?
New-ish thought. The grief path is necessary in order for one to become an elder. We must experience this loss as, (1) saying goodbye to a dear one and (2) one of our parents leaving this plane in order to step into the elder space.
I’m not just talking about “circle of life” stuff, blah blah. It’s less obvious.
Being an elder means we are wisdom holders, story bearers. And this flavor of wisdom comes at a very dear price but it is a rite. And it gives us maybe not as much as it takes, but it does have its own kinds of gifts.
None of that big talk really helps very much when your heart is in gleaming shards on the floor, scattered all around you.
I remember that acute state.
But where I am now, today, is that I feel very close to my father.
Xoxo
While there are no Cliff Notes for these situations, sometimes we need a bit of help having difficult conversations.
This loss is a rite of passage, but so is helping others through it. I am now better equipped to support my circle through their own experiences of loss. My grief isn’t just my own anymore, it helps me help others. And a demi-elder rises to the occasion.
Note: Thank you for reading. If you found this at all helpful, please give it a like or drop a comment below. And if you know someone that might enjoy my perspective, kindly forward it along. Your participation is everything.
Thank you for sharing this. 🙏
I used to say, “There’s nothing like losing a parent to slam you into adulthood.” On the eve of turning 30, I lost my own Dad and while I have published pieces about this loss - and grief - you are so right that it may get easier to discuss, but it doesn’t hurt less. Thank you for always sharing your wisdom. Forever grateful xx