My dad would have been 80 this year! Instead he died 22 years ago. At 58. And as I age, suddenly 58 doesn’t seem very old at all. I’ve worked alongside people older than that and none of them seem elderly.
My mum worked up until she died; working with the elderly. Seems ironic now. 72, still working and suddenly she becomes sick, frail and elderly. My mum was gracious until the end. That word champions the grace my mother lived and died with. Thankful, loving, grateful and beautiful are all words that come to mind thinking about those last few weeks with mum.
It’s left me with this wound; this undescribable ache in my heart that has never gone away. I’ve come to realise that the intense grief I feel for the loss of my parents is testament to the love I had for them and them for me.