Wonderland Challenge 2020

Drowning in Tears

         

PROMPT: Write of the saddest moment/event in your life.

         

         

         

         

         Until May of last year, I would have said that my mother's death ranked as the saddest 'event' of my life. Oh, it created a residual ache, but the sudden death of my father surpassed that pain. My Mom's demise stretched out in an almost two week inexorable trudge. She slipped away piece by piece to the ravages of pneumonia and a staph-aurea infection. We, my sister and I, knew death awaited our mother. We witnessed it creep along for ten days of a daily vigil. It became a matter of when she'd die, not if she'd die. We had time to prepare.

         My father passed away without advance warning and at a geographical distance. I reside in Ontario, Canada and he'd moved to British Columbia, Canada.In May of 2019, he'd reached eighty-one years of age. We kept in touch with letters, cards, e-mails, the occasional phone calls, and visits. The visits were from me because he no longer felt comfortable flying or driving. With the demands of life and the physical disparity of a huge country, I could not partake of a cross-country trek as much as I'd have liked. I mistakenly assumed he had lots of life yet to live.

         I'm grateful that I did manage to fly out to Vancouver Island one final time in October of 2018. My mobility was compromised with two 'sketchy' knees, and I'd been on a waiting list for a total knee replacement. The date for that surgery arrived at the tail end of March 2019, and it kept me from travelling far. My Dad's 81st came and went May 21st. He died May 27th.

         To say I felt gobsmacked would be an understatement. This came out of left field. On the morning of the 27th, his partner phoned to inform me he'd been hospitalized. As I made frantic plans to fly out there, she phoned again to break the news that he'd "slipped away". That was it.

         My crazy father had always joked that he wanted no ceremony when and if he "expired". He wished he could be stretched out upon a platform out in the woods or barring that, set adrift in a flaming pyre like a Viking. Evidently, he'd settled for a quick cremation and absolutely no "fanfare" of any kind.

         The partner refused to entertain my visit. She wished to grieve in private. There would be no funeral or celebration of life. I grieved without those standard comforts. There's something life-affirming about a get-together to share memories with others, but I do know there will be future funerals. It's inevitable.

( 434 words)