It is a unique blend of holding on and letting go when you are preparing for the death of your parent. You sit there unsure of what to pray for. Do you pray for more days, more time, more moments together? Do you pray for a peaceful and quick passing? Do you pray for a miracle?
If you’re like me, you end up praying for it all. You beg and plead for God not to take her. Yet, in the same breath, you pray that if she has to go, to make it quick and painless. You pray that she is welcomed into heaven with the same love that she is leaving this world with. You pray she is taken care of. You hold her hand and cry with frustration and fear and pain.
You are conflicted. You are torn. How can you possibly pray for her to go, to pass, to die? But then again, how much longer can you watch her laying there, in pain, slipping further and further away? How do you handle the final moments? How do you handle the pain of what is to come? How do you prepare?
You enter survival mode. You do the best you can. You breathe and keep moving. You pray she isn’t scared or hurting. Because you are. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. Nothing.
Somehow you’ve entered the moment where your parent is dying. Not only dying, but dying right in front of you. In that moment, you realize you have been given a burden that exceeds your capacity for strength, for composure, for tomorrow. You will survive this, but you will be a completely different person when it is all over.
For me, those final days and moments still flood my memory and soul. They haunt my nights and sometimes steal the joy of a memory.
When it’s all done, you value life differently. You will hurt more. You will ache fiercely. You will crumble quicker and cry often. You will walk around with a hole that will never heal. You will recognize the power of love in a completely different way. You will love more intentionally and consistently than ever before.
You will have days of debilitating grief and heartbreak. You will have days of joyful and heartfelt reminiscing. Your life becomes an intricate braid of heartbreak, happiness, and healing. Nothing could have prepared you for this loss and the things you have witnessed and endoured.
In the end you realize the choice was never yours to make. The choice of holding on or letting go were never in your power. You pray that eventually you remember less of the moment they were taken, and more of the moment they entered eternity.
One day, you find comfort in the blessing of being the last hug, the last kiss, the last person to hold their hand and say “I love you.”
Most importantly, you recognize that you would have held on forever, but the choice wasn’t yours. You only let go because you had to.
A wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.