Reflections on losing your parents in adulthood
Losing both your parents can feel lonely, scary, and painful, no matter your age. I think of it as the double-whammy of losses. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the legal definition of the word “orphan” is, “A child without a parent or guardian.”
I’m not sure if adult-orphan is an acceptable or politically correct term. So what do you call an adult who has lost both their parents? I have friends who were orphaned even before they turned 16. Then there are people like me who lost my mom in my 30s and Dad in my 40s. Is there a word for those of us still longing for our parents but who aren’t children anymore?
Reality Check
Over Thanksgiving week, I was sitting with my cousin in her home in Georgia and we were both looking at the world around us. We both have no parents left, and we both have a feeling of emptiness within. Double parental loss means the grief is also double for each of us. This morning, I lost my Badi Ma—my father’s older brother’s wife. In my last conversation with her, she said, “I love you,” and blew flying kisses. She was like a mom to us and had hugged us tight when Dad passed away. Her kids, my older cousins, are also orphans now.
The Impact of Permanent Loss
My didi in Georgia and I agreed that how we operate as human beings, business owners, parents, and partners has transformed after the death of our parents. The familial structure is perpetually changed. There is no place, aside from the one you have built with your partner (assuming you are in a healthy relationship), where you can plop your feet on the coffee table and call it home. At the end of the day, there is no longer a person on this planet whom you can take for granted. The sense of your parents’ permanent absence is debilitating.
Family Dynamics
Most people don’t care about the change in your life situation. I saw instantly after my father’s death how the family structure had changed. Many of the relationships that my parents had nurtured with reverence turned out to be self-serving and self-centered. I felt let down by so many after losing both my parents that I have learned to trust only a handful of people. Don’t confuse this feeling for depression or dark sadness or a pity-party or naivety. This is more about awareness and the acceptance that you have lost your safe-landing spot and place of unconditional love in this world. You will know that life will never be the same again as there is a perpetual vacuum with your support structure gone.
The Trust Factor
If I was upset with someone, I would share it with my dad when he was around. My father wasn’t the type to take sides or offer advice. This quality in him would annoy me when I was younger. But I started to admire this trait when I grew older and people would say, “I wish I had your confidence, Sweta.”
My father permitted me to become the woman I am today because he didn’t try to influence or mold me into the good Indian woman who pleases everyone. He allowed me to ramble, blow off steam, and get the annoyance out of my system. The best part: he never used any of my rants against me when he was upset. There was no comparison between my cousins or me or how Sharmaji’s daughter never spoke up or Mathur Saab’s daughter did blah blah.
What I had said ended right there, and it was never brought up again. Anger was a normal and healthy emotion in my dad’s home. I guess my father taught me to hold space for people in the now.
Who Am I?
I was talking to a friend who lost her mother a year ago. When she visited India over the summer, she felt there was no one prioritizing her. People appeared gracious, kind, and hospitable, but she wasn’t top-of-mind for anyone. Despite being surrounded by people all the time, she felt lonely and disconnected. As an adult orphan, she felt her identity was no longer the same.
Her parents—the main source of connection between her and the extended family—were the reason she had felt a sense of belonging in the family. Now looking at full families of her cousins and aunts and uncles, she felt both a sense of resentment and betrayal. People behaved like she had suffered no loss. It also made her think about her own mortality and the frailty of life.
Grief Hits in Stages
You know, I didn’t feel as lonely when Dad died. My father-in-law passed away two days after him. Summer was a blur. Cross-continental caregiving for two years in a row had also depleted me. It took months after the dust had settled and condolence visitors had stopped coming for me to embrace that both my parents were gone. I felt a thump in my chest every time I picked up my phone to share anything mundane or significant.
But it was only during Diwali where I felt a deep sense of emptiness. With Mom gone, there was no one who cared about whether I had made besan laddoos or distributed mithai amongst our family and friends. With Dad gone, no one laughed at what I had bought for Dhanteras. My parents were always amused by my Dhanteras purchases. The shopping fluctuated between a small spoon or hair dryer or a box of nails or a tiny kadhai—any item made from metal that I needed at home.
That feeling that no one cares is so alienating. When I asked my cousin in Georgia, the sentiment resonated with her.
The Regrets
Facebook showed me memories of November 2022, enjoying a South Indian breakfast with Dad. I was in India then and had spent time with my father and in-laws before flying to the Ayurvedic Hospital down south for an internship. Neither of us could have known at the time that it was one of the last few breakfasts we would enjoy together. I would have skipped my internship and spent more time with Dad if I knew our time was limited. He was healthy and happy then. A friend had argued with her mom the night before she passed away. Another case of died-out-of-nowhere, like my dad. But the guilt is something my friend still battles.
Normalize Grief
I hope we can normalize conversations around grief. That’s what I intend to do with my upcoming nonfiction book “The Loss That Binds Us” (Modern History Press, out March 21, 2024). But until then, find a community of people with shared experiences, so you can find support. Talk to mental health professionals if you feel overwhelmed. I have learned to not rely on family and friends for much. People have their own stuff going on. No matter how hard your friends and family try to support you, they can’t understand your pain unless they have experienced loss themselves.
“But when the people who gave you life have departed this earth, you enter a strange new corridor of detachment. You are untethered, disconnected from the two story lines that gave birth to your one.” ~ Cicely Tyson, Just as I Am
