Unspoken agony of being a midlife orphan
And why, after losing both her parents, author CASS GREEN found herself bitterly resenting friends
when neve is given a cottage by a stranger, she thinks it will help her to become a ‘grown- up’ at last.
Of course, that’s not necessarily the case. I’m ashamed to admit, I didn’t think of myself as particularly ‘grown-up’ when my dad died, and that his death didn’t provoke in me a sudden new sense of maturity. This is despite being a middle-aged, professional, married, homeowning mum. I mean, how much more grown-up can you get?
And yet perhaps 49 is not so old to become an orphan. not these days. With our ageing population, and parents quite likely to live into their 90s, the state of orphanhood is bound to come later than it once did.
I remember being on holiday last year with friends my age, and, as we sat drinking wine by the pool one evening, the topic turned to family. I found myself marvelling that each of the other three middle-aged adults had two parents each, albeit in varying states of health. Overall, most of my friends do have at least one living parent, and surprisingly often they have two.
My own feelings of unpreparedness demonstrate how differently we think about middle age compared with those generations before us.
At 50, we’re not old in the way our grandparents were, and our willingness to accept the stages we reach in life has changed, too. I’m too young to have lost both my parents, we rage — look how young and active I still am! Which brings me to another new feeling I’ve encountered since my dad’s death. Resentment.
how unfair it is that others my own age still have both parents, and how cross they make me when they complain about having to look after them.
I know I’m a hypocrite about this, since I did my own fair share of whingeing when my dad was still alive, and yet it seems my feelings aren’t uncommon.
‘I approach it with a bit of black humour,’ says Keris. ‘Often when I see people moan about their parents on social media, I’m tempted to reply, simply: “Mine are dead.”
‘The thought of doing it always makes me laugh and stops me feeling quite so resentful. I’m definitely envious of friends who still have their parents, but more than that, I just feel like it’s utterly unfair.
‘I have a friend the same age who still has her grandparents, which I find almost enraging. It’s ridiculous, I know.’
Suzy adds: ‘ I used to get envious, and angry and lonely. I missed my mum and dad.
‘I wanted to talk something through, get some advice or just have a cuddle but suddenly, they were gone — and it made me so sad. But I also hated playing the victim. And I didn’t want my friends to feel they couldn’t talk to me about it. I was so scared of getting stuck in that mire of grief and negativity.’
For my part, I thought I’d processed the grief of losing my mum over the years, even though I still missed her keenly sometimes. But losing my dad seemed to inflame all those feelings that were lying dormant inside me.
Like the world’s worst two-for-the-price- of- one offer, I was grieving for my mum all over again, 25 years after she died.
One of my friends, also an orphan, likens this to when her brother was once badly stung by bees. After this, a single bee sting would bring a ghost pain in all the other places that once hurt. She thinks she only really understood and processed the grief of losing both of her parents many years later when she went through a divorce.
‘Grief is a strange animal,’ she says. ‘And it can flare up at the strangest times.’
One positive consequence of all this is that it makes us appreciate and value our remaining family relationships.
I feel even more strongly about maintaining the ties to my two siblings. M
Y HUSBAND, who was very close to my dad, is now more mindful of his relationship with his own parents, both of whom are alive and in their 80s. he appreciates what he has more than ever.
There is, of course, no good time to become parentless. The very fact that you love someone means their absence will always be tough.
Psychologist Martin Weaver quotes Terry Pratchett’s fictional character death, from the discworld series: ‘ There is no justice, there is only me.’
And yet grieving can bring solace, too. ‘ Remembering someone who’s gone is the surest way of knowing who we are, where we came from and where we wish to go,’ says Martin.
he’s right. My mum never got to meet my husband or my two boys, but my dad was a big presence in their lives.
not a day goes by without a joke or a comment that relates to his memory. Remembering my parents in any way I can will help me process their loss and keep them alive in my heart.
So, for those of you lucky enough to have both a mum and a dad, I say this: Cherish them while you can. you might not appreciate now those endless conversations about roadworks on the A303 or hoary old stories you’ve already heard a million times before. But it’s only when their tellers have gone for good that you realise how precious they really were.