What is it about our parents growing older that unnerves us so much? About knowing that you’ll eventually have to move away from them and not have that familiar cushion anymore? About dreading seeing them in pain, or being too far away and missing out. Of finally understanding that they’re human.
I’m only coming to understand the bane of my adulthood now, but I know no matter where we are, my parents and I will always be connected through our stories and the love we’d had for each other since the day I was born. That separation would truly only ever be physical. That I’ll always find them close to me when I need them. I know that leaving them physically would never mean letting go of them.
And that offers me some solace in a cold world.
Incredibly, with both of them now alive, I finally feel it, too! (And I don’t just mean “alive” in its most banal or rudimentary sense. I mean, alive!) The amazing feeling you get when you wake up every day, knowing life is worth living for! That life is a daily celebration of all things small and significant. Knowing that there will always be people to love you, people to look around corners for you, people who will never give up on you. That compelling sense of freedom that renders you forever hopeful of everything! Always knowing to look out for better days, in hope that it will come. And stay.
That’s how alive they are. And how I always hope to be.