It’s been five years since we lost our parents. April 7^th for Dad, and today, August 10^th for Mom. It’s so crazy how since they’ve passed, time makes no sense to me. Sometimes, I could swear that they are still here on Planet Earth and I’ll go to pick up the phone to call them before realizing there won’t be an answer on the other end. Sometimes, I realize they are gone but it seems like only yesterday. And sometimes, it feels like they’ve been gone forever.

When they passed, the sense of safety that I had taken for granted and had always carried deep in my heart was gone. Just gone. All I felt for a long time was a deep loneliness and longing for the two people who knew me better than anyone else on earth.

When they first passed I couldn’t imagine ever making it through five days, never mind five years without them. I was stuck in a haze of grief for several years, a changed person. Unable to focus. Trying to grasp at the things that used to keep me afloat. Unable to feel anything but the overwhelming grief that gripped my heart. I dropped out of life. Spent hours and hours sitting on the couch, watching reruns of old television shows. Wrapped in a blanket of pain and a sorrow so deep that I didn’t care if I ever came out of it.

I tried reading book after book on the subject of grief, searching for anything that would help me just get through it and find closure so I could get back to normal. I talked with my therapist. I talked with friends who’d lost a parent. I talked with my siblings. None of whom could give me any definite answers. What I found was that it wasn’t an easy subject to talk about and no one had any answers. I was going to have to come to grips with this enormous loss on my own, in my own time, in my own way.

I didn’t want to have to get over it on my own. I needed someone to tell me exactly how I was supposed to do this thing. Deal with this pain. Get up everyday and move on. When there were no easy answers to be found, I felt myself drawn towards the one thing I knew would kill the pain. I didn’t care that I had been clean for decades. I needed relief from what I was feeling. It was a scarey, scarey place to find myself.

By the grace of God, the Universe and perhaps the love of my parents from the other side, I decided not to give in; and at some point, I began to come out of it. My innate spiritual nature began to speak to me of the soul’s journey with reassurances that they were not gone. I began to open up and feel their presence all around me. Through dreams, a quote out of nowhere, a song on the radio, their voices guiding me back to what I believe gave me some hope.

I sit here today with the quiet knowledge that they are with me. All I have to do is look at a sunrise or sunset. Sing. Laugh. Listen to the birds. Watch a quiet snowfall. Pick up a shell on the beach that was left there just for me. Find a soft feather at my feet as I walk through the woods. Dad always said to me, “Pay attention, Margaret. Pay attention.” And so I have begun to pay attention again; and by doing so I feel their love and protection and spirit surround me. I feel safe again. My belief system has always been that there is a thin veil between this dimension and the “other side” and if you open your soul you can feel the presence of those who have gone before.

Don’t get me wrong. I still long for an afternoon at HQ, sipping tea with my Mom and getting my butt kicked at rummy. I still need time with my Dad to speak of the meaning of life. I still miss the family gatherings at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But I have come to an acceptance of their passing. Knowing they are part of my soul’s journey. Knowing they are waiting for me in another life somewhere. Knowing I shall recognize their soul when the time comes. And for now, five years later, I am OK with that.