Coming Through the Fire

Some things in life, nearly everybody has to endure at some point: The first day of school, leaving home, having your wisdom teeth removed, etc. These are shared experiences in the sense that most people have them, and we can gain insight from others' stories about what happened. But at the core, even with all the support in the world, each of us does these things alone. We don't have a choice. Someone who cares about you may be sitting in the waiting room at the oral surgeon's office, but you are the one in the chair. It's the same with losing people you love. You may be surrounded by people, but it's an experience you go through, maybe not alone, but certainly in your own way.

What makes the process of losing someone so difficult is the same thing that makes those other common-but-solo experiences frightening: the unknown. There are so many ways to feel the anxiety borne out of the unknown. Basically you are trying to predict the future, and you know things are changing in terrible ways. And of course all of it is beyond your control.

There is no sugar-coating this: once my dad finally died it was every bit as painful as I'd envisioned, and as we started living our new reality and turning the unknown into everyday life, anxiety about not knowing how it would be turned quickly into searing grief over how it actually was. But there was one bright spot I hadn't anticipated, and that was the coalescing of people who had already lost a parent who didn't get to grow old.

I've written before about the overwhelming response of my friends and neighbors, most of whom met my dad only a couple of times or not at all, and I will never get over my gratitude for that. But support from those who'd already lost a parent too young felt different. It was as though I'd been initiated into an unfortunate-but-strong fraternity. Collectively, the people in this cohort who offered advice and support were like a big brother who was already established at the school I was starting. Help from a few individuals who could really relate to what I was going through has been a crucial part of my effort to move into the future without my dad.

There isn't any adequate way to repay the kindness, nor did anyone expect anything in return. All I can think to do is help the next friend who needs it. I take my responsibility as a member of this group very seriously. My services haven't been needed much, but I feel like a volunteer firefighter, ready to drop everything and help. It's a group nobody wants to join, but it sure was nice to discover it was there.