More Reflections on Loss
I have no more grandparents. My yiayia passed away last Tuesday and she was my last remaining one. My maternal grandfather passed away in March, with the other two passing away 5 and 16 years ago. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve lost two in one year, but I’m grieving much harder than I remember grieving in the past.
As a kid I understood the concept of death. I saw it in media and experienced it personally, but I’m convinced it didn’t hit quite as hard as it does now. And that’s because I couldn’t yet imagine how much life there is. When I was six, ten seemed like an eon away, and when I was 18, 25 still felt impossibly far. I literally could not comprehend living for multiple decades. And if I couldn’t understand how much life I had left to live, then I couldn’t fathom how much life I had left to live without them.
My parents still have so many years left. So many years left as orphans. My yiayia was such a clever and caring woman. She lived through war in Greece, only ever made it through the second grade, but created a beautiful life for herself. She learned English, worked for a diplomat, started a business, got married, loved and lost. She lived an extremely full life. But my dad is her oldest son, and I see how hard her sickness and passing has been for him.
I was peeling garlic the other day to make a recipe my mother had taught me and was hit with the fact that my dad learned so many of the recipes he made for us from his mother. Even though she hadn’t been able to cook for a while, that was how she took care of people. That’s how my dad takes care of us. And he won’t be able to share a meal with her ever again.
When we would stay in Greece, I would remember often happening upon my dad and his mom in the morning having coffee together, or in the kitchen after siesta just chatting and watching TV. Even though my dad lived thousands of miles away, he would call her regularly, and made trips to Greece at least twice a year for the major purpose of seeing her. Yes, he was being a good son, but they had a strong relationship. And I grieve the loss of that for him.
The finality of it is so much more acute than it has been before. I didn’t realize that in my mind, my grandparents were what stood in the way of my own parents and their deaths. In my head, it was so unrealistic for my parents to die while my grandparents still lived, but now that they’re all gone, my worry for my parents has crystallized into something far more demanding. Did my mom get home ok in this weather after work? Will my dad get sick while he’s away on his trip? I never used to worry too much about them, but now I can’t seem to stop.
On top of all of this, I wish there was something I could do. About all of it. I wish I could take away the stress from my dad. I wish I had spent more time in Greece. I wish I could make it better for him. And then I feel guilty, because I can’t do any of those things. The best I can do is be there for him, grieve as I need to, and spend as much time as possible with my parents. It won’t feel like enough, but then again, it never does.
Milos, Greece