Three Emotions I Didn't Expect to Feel After Losing My Parents

When Lars and I first became parents, we said to each other, "No amount of advice anyone gave us could have prepared us for this."

I think it has been the same for me with the passing of both my parents. No amount of advice or reading self-help books can prepare you for what grief is like. Part of that is because no two experiences are the same. Even my own experience in losing my dad was different from the experience of losing my mom.

But although I feel like nothing prepared me for what I would feel, some things that were shared with me by other people who had lost parents were extremely helpful - even if it's just to know I'm not alone in what I'm feeling. So I thought I would share these three emotions I didn't expect to feel after losing my parents, in case this might be helpful to someone else on a similar journey.

Guilt

My mom must have felt betrayed by her own body, when her hands could no longer grip a brush and her coordination wasn’t good enough to put her contact lenses in. She hated wearing glasses.  And she liked her hair a certain way.

I wish I had told her she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me.

I wish I had told her a lot of things, actually. Wish I had talked to her more about the things she was experiencing and feeling. But as I watched her become more and more confused about things, I was afraid to talk to her because I didn’t think she’d understand. And it was so hard for her to form words, I didn’t want her to get frustrated trying to respond. I should have told her anyway, and taken that chance. She might have understood, even just a little. She might not have understood at all. But I didn’t give her the chance. I did what I thought was best at the time – tried to love her and care for her and avoid emotional topics that might upset her. Maybe that was best. I don’t know. But I would give anything for one more heart-to-heart conversation with her.

I wish I had gone to see my dad in the hospital one more time. Taken my boys to see him like they asked me to. But he was supposed to come home in two days. He was supposed to come home. So I told him, “I think we’ll just wait until Sunday if that’s okay.” Of course he said it was. But he must have been disappointed. And when I saw him on Sunday, it was not at home like it was supposed to be. And it was not really him. It was just his body, eyes closed, there on the hospital bed. He had already gone to heaven.

And then I find myself thinking back to all the things I ever did that might have been a disappointment to my parents. I want do-overs. I want to tell them I’m sorry.

My husband will say to me, “You can’t live with regrets.” And for the most part, I don’t. I had a wonderful relationship with my parents. I know I did some things that were hurtful to them. What kid doesn’t? But learning and growing through those things helped draw us closer together. We loved each other. Relied on each other. Took care of each other. I know they didn’t leave this earth wishing I had done more or been something different. They prayed for me and they were proud of me. They were an incredibly important part of my life, my husband’s life, and our boys’ lives.

Still, there are those moments when a memory sweeps in and I think, “I should never have done that.” Or, “If only I had done this instead.”

I think I’m finally learning to recognize that Satan wants to use that to tear me down and make me feel like a failure as a daughter. He’s so good at whispering those lies! I have to make a conscious effort to reject his lies and know I did my best, and loved them as much as I could have.

And forgiveness is a pretty amazing thing! For every hurt I caused, they freely gave their forgiveness. More importantly, every single one of my sins has been covered by the blood of Jesus. None of them is held against me. So why should I keep holding it against myself? I refuse to let Satan win this fight.

Jealousy

I once read a blog by a woman who had lost her mom, and she commented that she feels jealous when she sees other women with their moms. I couldn’t relate at the time. Now, I completely understand. When I see another woman – younger, my age, or even older – who still has parents, it’s hard not to be envious. I’m only 41 and my parents are already gone. My kids won’t have either of their grandparents at their graduations or weddings. It seems unfair.

I think this is another one of Satan’s tactics. When we have lost someone we love, that is when we most need the love and support of other people. But it can be difficult to accept that love and support when we feel like someone else has something we’ve lost. And I have to make a conscious effort not to let him drive that wedge between me and my sisters in Christ.

Fear

As someone who has struggled with fear my whole life, I probably should have expected this one. But, honestly, I didn’t. The doctor at the ALS Clinic told us we had no reason to believe this was a genetic thing. And yet I find myself afraid.

What if I end up with the same thing my mom had? ALS and dementia can be genetic. What if I develop them? What if my kids do? I don’t want that. I don’t want them to go through what my sister, brother and I went through. I don’t want any of us to have to suffer the way my mom did. Every time I swallow wrong or stumble on a word, I wonder.

The problem is not that I doubt God’s sovereignty. I know God is in control. But He was also in control when my mom was diagnosed. And so I know sometimes in His sovereignty He allows suffering in order to bring about a greater purpose. And I really don’t like the suffering part. Especially for the people I love.

So this has to become a discipline of trusting not only God’s sovereignty, but also His goodness. To know that, no matter what the future holds, God has promised to work all things together for our good. He doesn’t break His promises.

I used to think when Paul talked about suffering, he was primarily talking about persecution of believers by non-believers, and the need to remain firm in our faith. Certainly, there is that. But it is not only that. There is a need to remain firm in our faith during all kinds of suffering, even that which is not religious persecution. In fact, it’s harder to remain firm in our faith when we don’t feel like we’re suffering for a cause. When the suffering makes no sense to us and we wonder why God would allow it.

The truth is, Jesus took a horrific punishment for me and my sin that he did not deserve to take upon himself. He did it willingly, to spare me from what my sin had earned me. The moment I chose to accept that indescribable gift and turn to him as my savior, I became a child of God. I gained the right to share in the glory of heaven. But I also bear the responsibility of sharing in the suffering of Christ. How can I identify with him if I am not willing to suffer just a tiny portion of what he suffered for me? If I only want the glory but none of the pain my own sin caused?

“ The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:15-18, emphasis mine).

No matter what suffering there might be in this life – and I can guarantee there will be some – I can trust that God is good, and that He is doing a great work in me. When I finally get to heaven and see Him face to face, everything here will seem incredibly unimportant.

That is what my parents are experiencing right now.

I’m sure others have experienced some of these same emotions, or possibly completely different emotions. The thing is, everyone experiences grief differently.

But what is the same is that Satan will use this time of vulnerability to tear you down if you let him.

A friend of mine who is also a Christian women’s speaker talks about “taking those thoughts captive.” When the fear, guilt and jealousy creep in, it takes a conscious effort to take those thoughts captive and not allow them to control me. I’m getting there. It’s a process. But I’m clinging to God, and I know that’s the most important thing.

Because time really doesn’t heal anything. But God does.