Something ended. A life. But also dreams, hopes, things the way they always were. A life which was known the way it was known.
And for the first time in a long time I feel lost.
It is not such a nice place to be in.
You see, when a parent dies, it does not only affect you in that obvious way. Losing a parent is not only the losing of a dear person. A loved one. A hero. A role model.
It is also an occurrence which awakens one thousand questions within.
Where is he?
What is life?
What is death?
Who am I?
Who do I wish to be?
It is like teenage hood all over again.
I am one of these people who would describe myself as a spiritual person. Growing up in a church – matters of life and death were always comfortable questions. Always raised. Always spoken of. I do not shy away from them. They are all familiar to me, have always been.
So comfortable I sometimes even wish to die. No, I am not suicidal. But I am curious to see what happens when our earth light is shut down. I eagerly await the moment when I will find out for sure.
At the same time, I believe all humans are in contact with life hereafter. Now and every day. Life and death are only definitions here on earth. We are not earthlings. We are spirit. That I believe.
Death (as we define it here on earth) is a place we can go to anytime we like. We can visit our dead relatives. Connect with angels and all kinds of spirits.
I don’t question it. I don’t fear it. It is as natural to me as it is reading a book, cooking a meal or brushing my teeth.
I do not fret death. I do not question a life after this one. Or even parallell to this one as time is only a figment.
In my heart I know there is a completely different set of rules to the ones we follow here on earth.
And that is perfectly okay.
Therefore, when my dad was on his deathbed. I was not afraid. I was not questioning his upcoming journey. I definitely did not want him to go now, but I knew wherever he would end up – it would be a good place.
But now when he is gone all that I was so sure of I am not so sure of anymore. Now his absence is definitive. It is constant and all that was is no more.
He is gone and I don’t know where. I don’t know how or why.
I am not sure of anything.
I am lost.
To an outsider, being lost might seem like a romantic state, a peaceful place to be in. All options lay ahead. All possibilities are open. Nothing is set. The next step could be anything and everything.
But lost for a person in the midst of the tornado is nothing but romantic. It is void. It is hollow. It is lonely.
All that I thought was real is no longer solid. It is open and confusing.
I linger in some in-between-place. A place I am not used to be in since I have never lost a parent before. I have not visited this land previously.
Lost I have been. Many times. But not like this. I have not before lost touch with the strings overhead. The strings that connect me to a generation above. A string which held me more solid and in more sturdy a place than I have ever realized.
He was always there. Always there. And that counts for much more than I had realized when he actually was here. In the flesh.
When we are lost, we try to find solid. Something to hold on to. Something to understand, something to put our hopes to. Something to keep us sane.
But lost means we don’t have any of that. We float. We shiver. We drift.
And as much as our mind tells us, all will be well, we cannot see it.
Losing a parent is not something we can understand – until we do.
Losing a parent is something much more than losing a parent.
Losing a parent brings on questions you did not even know you had.
Questions you did not even know existed.
It means that all you believed in is shaken up. Is uprooted and thrown up into the air. And no one is there to catch it.
Losing a parent means you are partly losing yourself.