Losing A Parent As A Teenager
“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
One wintry evening, years ago, my then best friend's mother walked into my dorm room. I was surprised, “I didn’t know you were visiting!” Immediately I knew something bad had happened. “Let’s sit down,” she said, as my best friend directed me to the bed as her mother positioned herself on the chair across us.
My best friend's mother proceeded to tell me what my own mother had told her — my father had (instantly) died in an accident. I was in shock and then began crying as my best friend scooped me up into a hug, tears falling from her and her mother’s eyes.
Several minutes later, after I’d caught my breath, I called home. My aunt answered, “Can I speak to mommy?” There were no other words, for either of us, to say.
Heartbreak.
You could hear it in my mother’s voice and in mine. I think back now and imagine how worried she must’ve been for me, a teenager, 4000 miles away from home, on another continent, finding out she’d lost a parent. And then having to travel back, alone.
With the help of my best friend's family, I set off on a 26-hour journey home the next day. I cried in the toilets at London Heathrow, I tried not to cry as ate in the terminal, I cried while I waited to board, I cried on the plane, and I cried when I finally hugged my mother at arrival.
Unimaginable sadness and loss.
My three younger siblings were in the car. We all hugged, not saying anything. After all, what can you say to such complete and irreversible loss?
I won’t go into any more detail. It’s been 15 years but I still can’t think or talk about that period in our lives too much or too long without being overcome with deep sadness that lasts hours, even days. We lost him so suddenly, so decisively, without any warning, without any room for hope. We don’t like talking much about that fateful day, though I’m sure we think about it quietly.
Love and gratitude.
We do very often talk about him, especially now that our family has grown and my siblings’ children begin asking about their grandpa. Our hearts swell when the little toddlers look or act like my father — he would’ve loved it! We’re forever grateful for the father we’ll always have.
The grief remains.
It will never go away. Queen Elizabeth II said, “Grief is the price we pay for love.” Are there truer words?