The Big "C" Strikes Again

I went to a funeral yesterday.

The mother of a dearly beloved friend passed away this past week. The horrible, debilitating, soul sucking, life destroying disease, cancer, struck again. Almost exactly a year apart, tragedy struck our lives. The similarities between the loss of his mother and the loss of my Dad, just a short year ago, truly tore at my heart.

The close knit, large, extended family; the beloved children grieving a parent; the grandchildren grieving a much loved grandparent; the unfairness of a full, vibrant, interesting life cut short by this ghastly disease. Not that his Mom did not live a long, full life, but in this day and age, the fastest growing population in our country are those over the age of 85. Therefore, when we lose a beloved senior well before that age, it “feels” as though they have died way too soon. My Dad was only 84, so he too did not make that magic “fastest growing population” group, and it seems so unfair.

These two, my friend’s Mom and my Dad, these were people who were dearly and deeply loved, people who gave back, people who loved life and everything it had to offer them. Why did they have to go so soon?

At the service yesterday, some of the grandchildren shared love letters written between my friend’s mother and her dearly beloved husband, who had pre-deceased her by 18 years. These letters were the emotional touch that did me in. My parents met when my Mom was only 16 and my Dad was 20 and they too wrote beautiful love letters back and forth during the time when my Dad was overseas in WW2. My friend’s parents were high school sweethearts and when they were separated, the love letters they wrote were what was shared at the service. Clearly, the similarities tore at my heart.

Because my Mom is here with me now, sharing my life for a few weeks, the poignancy of my friend losing his mother, seemed even stronger than it might have otherwise been. Since Mom is here, she had the option of going with me yesterday when The Spouse and I attended the service. She opted not to go and I am so glad because the whole love letter thing? It would have knocked her for a loop. It just hits a little too close to home.

I’ve done what I can for my friend. Held him while he cried, supported him, provided comfort food for him and his family, covered his classes at school, gone to the services and given him all the empathy and sympathy and support that I have to give.

But the reality is, nothing helps. His Mom is gone. My Dad is gone. We must live with it. No matter how much it hurts.