On one year of orphanage

 

A year ago, on January 9, 2024, my mother passed away at the age of 96, some three years after my father died at the age of 94. She was independent until almost the last day of her life, just as she wished. I recall a conversation I had with her decades before when her mother had passed away, aslo in her 90's. I asked her, naively but not maliciously, why she was so distraught given that her relation with her mother has been so difficult. Every conversation was accompanied by a cigarette (until my mother stopped smoking). My grandmother was a difficult person or at least became one after the war. My mother’s explanation to me was that she was now an orphan.

I  now understand that answer. I have been an orphan for one year. Happily, my relation with my mother was far better than hers with her mother but that fact is irrelevant. I am happy that she died not only because the events of the world of the last year would have extremely distressed her but also she was ready to die. My parents left me and my brother an ample and organized estate, which has been distributed without great struggle except with the bureaucracies of the various financial institutions. I have come to terms to the fact that I gave my best to be a supportive son despite living far away on another continent just as they came to terms with me choosing to live in Israel. In short, we parted on the best of terms and remain that way.

In this year, I have made some difficult but unavoidable emotional decisions without any consultation with my parents, not that I did that very much when they were alive. To be honest, I wish I could ask my father some advice on investing but it is far too late for that. Amusingly, if I were to suddenly drop by their house and sit down with them, I imagine the conversation would be exactly as it was before as if they had not died. I don’t know if that is good or bad.

In short, it is has been a challenging year. My parents’ education has stood the ultimate test: I stand on my feet as an orphan. Time does heal certain wounds. I now am capable of enjoying the present and getting excited for the future. Yet, I feel  a sadness in me because t I do not have a parent to whom I can recount my successes and failures. I suppose that this emptiness will never go away completely but, as the Yehuda Poliker song goes, it hurts but less.

On a spiritual note if you will, as I often “talk” with/to my parents on my daily walks, I am inspired and/or comforted by the words of Pooh, whose wisdom I also did not appreciate in my youth. In a certain sense, I find them true and comforting. I am getting used to being an orphan.