Dealing with the pain of family loss

MOM WAS supposed to go first. After two years of bravely fighting breast cancer, my dad, heroically by her side, believed all would be well, and just as hope surfaced, it spread to her lungs.

More cancer. More tears. Dad was the strong one. The healthy bull.

He was the quiet one. He loved her with all his heart. The only retired couple in their neighbourhood who held hands when they walked Ringo. The dog has become my most prized inheritance.

Riana, a supportive neighbour, told me that the day they first found the lump, he told her, white in the face, “my wife has cancer”. It was a Friday. I was invited over for a curry and a glass of wine to celebrate my mom’s health after what we thought was her last bout of chemotherapy. He just shook his head when I met him at the gate. I could hear her crying from her bedroom. “We will get through this,” I lied. The next morning dad had a stroke.

He was paralysed. But compos mentis. That night we laid candles in heart shapes in the street outside his hospital room. We were not allowed in due to Covid regulations. A vigil for dad.

It was the bravest phone call I had ever made when I decided to speak to him alone two weeks later. “If you wanted to keep on fighting”, I said, “I will respect and support you. But if you feel you are tired, I honour you. I love you. Go if you need to.”

Mom had this thing – she did not get out of bed until he brought her a glass of warm water with lemon and cayenne pepper. A job I took over. “Where is my water”, I heard her say when I started playing Lawdy Miss Clawdy by Elvis that morning. When the song ended I said, “he died”. Her legs caved in and I carried her to a couch where she cried and prayed at the same time. Her everything. Her love. Her pillar. Gone.

Exactly two months and a day later mom died. Not from cancer but a broken heart. In the bargaining stage of my grief, I found myself creating a lot of “what ifs” and “if onlys” – a line of defence against grief. It helped delay my hurt. I started bargaining – seeking my inner strength and confidence. I focused on statements (not feelings) and vowed I will (and did) rise again no matter what. It was Anna Freud who said “I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within. It is there all the time”.

I created Post Traumatic Wisdom instead of stress. I used that pain and transformed it into power to help others. I was not suddenly free of stress and depression, but I carried it with wisdom and embraced it. I did not fear it. Of course, I had challenges; my friends and family were waiting for me to crack, but I chose not to be overwhelmed and to see the blessings. I transformed my pain into purpose.

My empathy and connection to people allow me to learn every day. If the pain surfaces, I let it be. Growing up I thought I had to be strong. No tear shedding. But the death of my family made me realise that my strength lies within my vulnerability.

Losses wake you up. I have learnt to appreciate living in the moment. And I ask that you do the same. To deal with loss and grief; the secret is to search for your inner strength and when you find it, never let go.