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Thursday, 25 March 2010


I need someplace to rant and just be.

This blog is that place and tranquil space.

Something I have never shared is my dark family secret. I rarely speak about my love for my late parents. I loved them. They loved me, unconditionally. I have a lot of shit still to work through about losing them... I'm an only child, an adult orphan. Maybe losing both our parents gets us like that?

My Mutti died around 13 years ago. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. She wasn't even 60. My dad left this earth 4 years ago, I think. I was a bit of a wreck when he died. I think it was four years ago this month. Four or three. Three, I think. ...It wasn't wholly unexpected. He had a vicious prostate cancer which had moved into his bones. But he was pretty fit and healthy in his early seventies, fitting a new kitchen in his home, until the week before he went into hospital, when he visibly greyed and aged before my eyes.

I was shocked, and then there was a horrific decline and zombie-like limbo time spent visiting the hospital, sitting in its harsh white lights, holding his cold, cold hand, listening to his watery oxygen streaming, and trying to make some sense of his morphine-induced gibberish.

Waiting for those bright, rare, moments of lucidity, when he was my magnificent, all-seeing, all-conquering dad again.

I have still to scatter his ashes where we scattered those of Mutti, whom he called Biddy. Biddy was never her name. She was Joan Crawford. She was as mean, moody and magnificent. Her ceremony took place on the island of Lindisfarne. It still waits for him.

...And this week, while I was feeling ill with a head-cold and allergic rhinitis, probably after doing too much for several weeks, the past reared up to meet me once again. The telephone rang, and the past bit me when I least expected it.

FEATURED ART: The Wishing Tree


Chairman Bill said...

Get those ashes scattered ASAP, it should bring closure - or can't you bear to let them go?

By the way, it's prostate cancer, not prostrate. Every man lives in fear of it, although given it usually appears very late in life and is a slow cancer, the chances are that something else will carry you off before the prostate cancer. A few are unlucky though.

Hay found a lump this week - she's now living in abject terror till she has a scan next week AND THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT.

slommler said...

I am so sorry for your losses! It is so hard to lose our parents...you tend to feel like you lose your anchors. When the time is right, you will be able to scatter his ashes.
Hugging you

Fire Byrd said...

Not sure how I got here, but glad I did.
Becoming an orphan is utterly vile, and I'm in my mid 50s. The pain when you go to pick up the phone is just vile.
Hope you will feel better soon.

French Fancy said...

Oh Fhina - I don't know how I knew but I did know that there was a lot of sadness underneath your blog persona. Losing both parents is something that only other adult orphans can understand. Only this morning I was having a little cry about not having either a mum or a dad to ring up and chat with.

The other evening on my own here I sat and looked at the two sofas and imagined, I shut my eyes and imagined my parents sitting on them. And of course I had another little cry.

I don't think our longing for them will ever go away and it is impossible to say consoling words. It is like an ache always inside one.

I think scattering your dad's ashes will be a Good Thing. You've also given us a cliff hanger ending and I am waiting to find out what the phone call was about. I've got a couple of theories and I'll have to wait and see if one of them is right.

In the meantime it is lovely to have 'the real you' emerge, sad as it is. I hope your cold and allergies soon pass. My hay fever has just begun and it is very hard to breathe.

I think you and I have a lot in common.


Lindsey said...

oh I know that feeling being an orphan is a hard lesson at any age, I try to be in gratitude that I had them and that we had worked thro' all the traumas that life presented. It is Ok and even sometimes good to grieve.

Love and light

Derrick said...

Hi Fhina,

Sorry you've been laid low but hope that Spring will begin to brighten the days for you.

Diney said...

I too am an orphan - and my father in law died on Friday so my husband is now one too. It is horrible, life changing. My Mum died 10 years ago when my daughter was 6 months old, and my husband reckons I've never been the same personality since as some of my spark has gone. It does, doesn't it? I empathise with you totally. I think you need to scatter the ashes though - it is hard but it needs to be done to bring a sense of finality to your new world. And the phone call....did you have the immediate feeling it was one of your parents phoning you? I did that for ages, and the sinking feeling is awful when you remember. x

Debby said...

Oh I can so relate to this! I tend to keep everything to myself but I am still not over the loss of my parents and doubt I ever will be. We were close, very close and I just can't get past the fact that they will not be there for me. I guess I am not much help for you but know you are not alone. We will always, always have the good times to remember.

Debby said...

Me again, I forgot to tell you how much I love your art.

Fab, feisty and fifty... said...

...oh gosh...and the call was.....

very powerful, honest and raw....am tearing up and its not even 9am...l shant cry l shant....

luv you

saz x

Jo said...

This post broke my heart. It's so hard to lose someoone we love so much. I went through it with my parents too, and I know exactly what you are going through. It gets easier ... somewhat ... but they are always with us. I still talk to my Mom and she still answers. And my Dad is always with me. Always

Take care of that cold!

Anonymous said...

Such a heart-rending post. Nothing l can say will help the pain...so very sorry. It always hits one out of nowhere. My father died 72 years ago when I was four. I have no memory of him and that is probably what I miss. I can only imagine the pain I would feel had we had time to love one another.

Something I wrote earlier...

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