Holidays & Special Occasions Feel Different Now, and I’m Tired of Not Being Able to Talk About It

“What is grief, if not love persevering?” Seven simple words, one powerful sentence. These words were uttered by the character Vision in the co-titular Disney+ show WandaVision and probably one of the best quotes I have heard from a superhero franchise in quite some time. While the show tackles grief over the loss and death of a romantic love, the quote definitely resonates with people who have lost people no matter the nature, myself included.

I lost both my parents within less than two years of each other. Being in my 30s, I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I also kept forgetting they were both over 40 when they had me. Because my parents looked and acted so youthful compared to many of their peers, it’s easy to dismiss the fact they were aging. When you lose a parent at an “acceptable” age, you think you’d be ready but the truth is you probably never will be. Not the first time, nor the second time. Not for an almost instant loss, not for an inevitable one that dragged on for a while.

I write this as I keep The Lord of the Rings trilogy playing in the background, mainly because I tend to multitask, but also because like many others, I use things like movies as an attempt of escapism. The last 2.5 years of my life have been… eventful. Pandemic or not, I’ve experienced so many ups and downs and twists and turns that my life can give the world’s best rollercoasters a run for their money. And in that amount of time, I have watched and rewatched many TV shows, stand-up specials, and movies as an easy way to cope. We are allowed to grieve and cope in very different ways, and this is mine.

I write because it lets me connect with my thoughts, thoughts I either try to escape or end up obsessing over. I write because I need to process emotions in solitude for a number of reasons. I write because it’s what I spent most of my life trying to do. Hell, I went to school for it. It’s what I do for a living. It’s the best way for me to face my demons without becoming one myself. And today, I write because the pain is especially hard, and this is my feeble attempt in making the next day or so a little bit easier.

Looking back, my teenage years and 20s seem like I may have overestimated the value of certain people in my life. Yes, I have lost friends and romances before, but they were grief over relationships that could be mended if both parties tried. And yes, like everyone I have experienced losing family and friends because they passed away. It’s not that their deaths are any less important in the grand scheme of things, because of course their lives touched many including mine.

The permanence of losing my parents, however, hit harder than I thought it would. As both a logical and emotional person, my brain experiences this kind of grief the way a pendulum swings: one moment I am in tears that sometimes puts me on the verge of a panic attack, and then maybe I hyper-rationalize and become relatively okay just a moment after that.

On one hand, I understand that people are in this life temporarily. I know that in their mid-to-late 70s, my parents were well beyond life expectancy in the Philippines. I know that it’s inevitable, that it’ll be a matter of time, that it’ll happen. But on the other hand, I keep rationalizing that they shouldn’t have died that “early” because in my mind, they were extraordinary. I know I wasn’t alone in believing they would live much longer, and it is without bias.

Compared to many people their age, my parents were quite healthy. They ate well. They had a positive outlook. They had faith. They were happy with their children, in-laws, and grandchild. They were athletic and active in their youth, and still moved around long after they stopped working in their latter years. The way they carried themselves in life, it doesn’t take a genius to understand why my siblings and I were hit with extreme shock.

You see, the way they both left this life were not the way we had hoped. Did I expect my dad to fall after a bike ride? Hell no. Did I expect my mom to have cancer and be in a coma? Absolutely not. Had I any say, I would have had them both live longer lives and pass in their sleep due to old age. I think it’s safe to say that’s ideal for many. But life isn’t always ideal, isn’t it? We do not bear that right, and no matter how prepared you try to be for loved ones to go, the truth is you probably never will be.

Looking through photos since either parents’ demises, I have noticed a change in my smile. I honestly can’t quite put a finger on it, if it’s in my eyes or whatever, but I just know it’s different. Have I been faking the smiles? For the most part, no. There are genuinely happy moments of my life since they both died, but I guess it’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced true loss of someone you really, deeply love.

This experience makes me wonder how everyone else who’s been in my situation have been coping. And it certainly makes me empathize more now than I ever had before. It’s a pain I would never wish on anyone, not even people I don’t like. This kind of heartbreak is incomparable, and I don’t think one can truly get over it. You move past it, keep moving forward in life, and do your best to cope, but you never forget nor love these people any less than when they were still physically here.

But now? Birthdays, holidays, and any other special occasions that remind me of my parents just feel different. I’m tired of not being able to talk about it. Yes, I can discuss this in therapy. Yes, I can share these with my siblings. Yes, I can talk to people with similar situations. But there’s always something getting in the way. Guilt, remorse, shame, or what have you, there’s always something that just makes it feel… not right.

Like today, for example. It’s Mother’s Day. One of my sisters is a mother. Many of my aunts and cousins are mothers. Some of my friends are mothers. I can’t just sit here and not greet them, it’s improper. But it also sucks that the world carries on despite my loss. The same goes for Father’s Day. Or Grandparents’ Day. I get marketing emails from companies who are after profit. I scroll through social media and see countless posts of happy families celebrating these occasions. I get messages from people who unintentionally sent a greeting because they probably do not know I’ve lost my parents or just sent out a mass text and forgot to remove me. I can’t get mad, because that’s life. It moves on whether we’re ready for it or not.

Do I want to talk about it? Maybe. Will I, beyond this blog? I don’t know, but I would rather not. Just because I’m going through these things does not give me the right to take joy from others or make them feel bad that they still have their parents (or in other cases, parental figures, siblings, or anybody of similar significance).

It took me more time to write a closing paragraph than I wanted to, because I don’t know how to end this. Maybe I have no advice. Maybe there isn’t closure. Maybe I’m just free-writing. I’m just glad I’m finally able to freely talk about some of these things, so thank you for reading. I truly appreciate it. Hopefully my next few posts won’t be as morose 😉