losing a parent

I'm still learning to let go of the guilt I feel for grieving him during a pandemic.
The rest of the world might be celebrating, but in their own world, it is more of a day of mourning.
Losing a loving parent is considered one of life's greatest heartbreaks. It is even more challenging when that death is connected to a holiday that celebrates the gift of a good father. I was only 19 when my father died 48 years ago.
Along with everyone else, I have to admire Prince Harry for opening up about the impact that his mother's sudden and tragic death had on him, but I fear that his talk about mental-health issues and trauma will have a negative rather than a positive impact on our views of mental illness.
If doing so makes one person appreciate their father just a bit more, then your words are already worth it.
The first time I carried a child, I suddenly had this intense urge to be closer to my mom. It was hard going through a pregnancy and a stressful birth experience without my mother's guidance and support (cancer can quit now, OK?), and I keep coming up against questions I really wish I could ask my mama, but that must be left unanswered.
My mother missed her children's weddings. Missed the birth of her grandchild. In that grand balance up in the sky, measuring who gave and who took, my mother's ledger is a study of injustice. I doubt there has ever been an adult soul who took less, whose footprint was lighter. She never harmed or blasphemed or burdened; she was not perfect, but her faults were small and were her own, never imposing them on others. She deserved more. A lot more.
My heart once beat inside of her. It has been 10 years since my mother passed and though she's not here with me, a part of