Earlier this year, my dad’s health quickly started to decline. In May, the wheels came off the proverbial cart, and in early June, he passed away.
Two days later, my husband and I packed our bags and went away on a trip for a week.
We were exhausted. It had been one hell of a month. We were unprepared. Neither of us really knowing if this trip would even happen or if we would even feel like we wanted to go.
But in a last minute decision, we packed our bags, and headed out, silently acknowledging that it may just be the very thing we needed at that exact moment.
I’m a girl who isn’t keen on flying to begin with but as we were in the airport gift shop waiting to depart, my husband gently suggested that I grab some Dramamine for the flight to help calm my nerves. I’m just going to say that his suggestion may have been the best advice my husband has ever given to me. And when we hit turbulence an hour into the flight, my usual reaction would be to grip onto his arm with impressive hand strength, squeeze my eyes shut, focus on breathing, and hope that this little metal tube flying 10,000 feet above the ground would get me home in one piece. But this time? This time, I texted my friend, “Wheeeeeeee!” and all other sorts of silly nonsense.
Who was I?!?
Then, as we were soaring above the clouds, I looked out my airplane window and saw the craziest thing…Another airplane passing by! I’m positive my eyeballs almost popped out of my head! My immediate thought was, “Is my Dramamine making me hallucinate?!” Followed by, “What are they doing up here??”
I’m not sure why the thought of other planes being up in the same sky never occurred to me. Surely there are thousands of flights a day, but when you’re that high in the sky (and perhaps, on a wee bit high on Dramamine), you feel like the only one up there all alone. The wildest part about this encounter was that the other plane looked as though it was zipping by at a super high rate of speed, while I felt like we were barely creeping along the clouds. But we must have looked that way to the passengers on the other plane as well, right?
Afterwards I felt that plane was a metaphor (I love a good metaphor!) for how I had been feeling the last few months; like I was standing still while the rest of the world just zipped on by.
I couldn’t keep up.
And now I felt I was in this foreign place I’d never been, which begged the question to be asked again…Who was I?
We’ve all lost people we love. Sometimes we have time to process when a season of life is ending. I was able to write a letter to my dad and read it aloud while he was still coherent enough to understand what I was saying. He nodded when I finished, and tears streamed down both of our faces. A quiet acceptance as we both understood the end was here, and this really was our last goodbye.
Sometimes people are ripped out of our lives without any warning at all. I’m not sure either way is easier than the other, but not having that moment to collect what you want to say as a goodbye feels more tragic to me. I feel for those who aren’t allowed or offered that closure.
When my dad’s health took precedence over our lives, I had to hit the brakes on my own life. In fact, when I look back on the many years of being a caretaker, it’s clear that, much like parenting, there is no rule book on being a caretaker to your parents. The roles have been reversed and it’s like a wild rollercoaster. Some days are ups, some days are downs, and you’re just hanging on for the ride. Sometimes you wonder why you got on that ride in the first place. But then, at the end, the ride comes to a screeching halt, and you get off the rollercoaster wondering where to go next. Accepting that when you looked back, you would do it all again.
I’m in a new chapter of life, one where neither of my parents are here on earth. A friend once described a life without parents as feeling like an orphan. I shook my head. That isn’t the case for me. I know I’m not alone as their spirit lives within me. And like the other planes in the sky, there are others out there who have been here before. We are all on a journey of some sorts, but we aren’t alone. And we really do have to keep moving forward.
As I undo the pause button in my life, I feel like I’m making my comeback and I’m slowly getting back to the things I enjoyed doing…Spending time with my family, cooking, reading, running, writing. There’s a little more freedom and a little less worry. I’m more open to adventures and trying new things. Yet, there are still times of sadness as life passes by like a plane in the sky without the passengers you have loved and lost.
Our trip was beautiful. We were able to spend some special time with my brother and his wife, and I’m so glad we had that time to heal together after our loss.
On the flight home, I saw two other planes pass by high in the sky. I wondered how many other planes I had missed when I wasn’t looking.
I wondered where everyone was heading.
Onto our next destination, of course…
Fly high, dad.
In Loving Memory of Walter Martin. Click here for his online obituary to read more about his life.
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In the 2014 movie Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb, Robin Williams’ character, Teddy Roosevelt, says these lines, to Larry Daley, played by Ben Stiller.
Teddy: “You’ve done your job. It’s time for your next adventure.”
Larry: “I have no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow.”
Teddy: “How exciting.”
