by Reuben M. Chow, Living-With-Grief.com

The loss of both my parents, although both to illness, were very different experiences.

With dad, it was a fall-ill-admitted-to-hospital-condition-deteriorates kind of scenario, while with mum, it was more of a fall-ill-coma-it’s-over type.

I can’t say which was more difficult to bear. The two experiences were painful in their own ways.

One great difference was whether or not I was able to say a proper goodbye.

Mum went first, and with her, there was no chance for anything — no goodbye, no last words, no take care, nothing. In fact, my last words to her were pretty harsh.

That hit me hard. Especially when my mum was the sort of person who always gave a good account of her whereabouts. Why the sudden and unannounced departure, at the time when it matters most?

I was very bitter about it all, and it haunted me for quite a while.

With dad, there was a proper last conversation. Well, more of a monologue, as he was already too weak to really speak. But I said my goodbyes, my ‘I will be fine’, ‘I’m ready’, ‘go in peace’ kind of thing.

Of course, there is a ‘price’ to pay, so to speak — my dad had to suffer more, whereas my mum went through a relatively quick and less painful (painless?) death.

But the chance to say those final words really mattered the world to me. 

After the first episode, I was just so grateful to be given the chance for that last conversation.

Not that it made the pain of loss any less pronounced — not really, but it still helped a great deal, somehow.

As for the first loss, well, no goodbyes, but there is pretty much nothing much which can be done about it, and you learn to deal with it.

I just mutter quiet words to her under my breath, and hope that she can hear them.

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