Which hurt the most for you..the death of your mother or father?

The death of my father was harder on me. I was much younger then, and pregnant with my first child, his first grandson, whom he never lived to see.

My mother got to see that same grandson make it into law school.

But just because one was harder, that doesn’t really mean the other was easier. Both were difficult losses to bear. And both came after too long a period of disease and decline.

My parents died five decades apart and each loss affected me equally hard, though in different ways.

(I can tell this thread will be a major group hug)

I would give that honor for now to my dad since he is dead and my mom is still alive. I will add that the single hardest thing I have done in my life is write and speak my dad’s eulogy…I pray one of my sibs takes on that chore when my mom passes….sigh.

Both my parents are still here, (Thank God)but I am a bit closer to my Dad but until the time comes I don’t really know.

Dad died four years ago. It was kind of a shock. Mom was overweight and had several ongoing health problems. For years we had all figured she would be the first to go and had steeled ourselves for that eventuality. Dads death took us all by surprise; kind of a body blow to the psyche leaving us stunned and at a loss.

I could not give the eulogy for him because I was holding my mother through-out the service. Sometimes I regret not doing so. Being a somewhat private person, sometimes I am grateful I did not have to. Mostly I am glad I was of some comfort to Mom.

Mom continues to live with my sister. She has dementia and now we watch her health and mental well-being deteriorate on an almost daily basis and I see her as she is, and remember her as she was and sometimes I lose it completely. She still knows most of us in the immediate family but her mind is caught in a continuous loop with a surreal, jumbled collection of past events and no future.

Her days are spent going from bedroom to living room chair to spend the day watching television cartoons, all the while repeatedly expressing the longing to be back in her own home, a physical impossibility, and vacillating between the heartache of knowing the only man in her life has died and the almost unbearable heartache of being convinced he ran off with another woman; this even though he died in her arms. I do not want to lose her but sometimes I look at her and ask myself if her existence can truly be called living and I question whether or not my desires to have her around are not just selfishness and question whether it would be more merciful for her to pass peacefully in her sleep; a desire she herself has expressed.

Guilt and anguish are sometimes indistinguishable.

As she would say: “Such is life with all its cares….......”

My mother died when I was very young, so I don’t recall the pain of her passing. However, I still feel her absence. I’ve especially missed her at particular times of my life. When I got married and had my children. I wish she’d been here to share those moments.

My father died when I was 23. I felt his death terribly. Like @Jeruba, I was pregnant with my first child when he died. I still miss him and think of him often. There have been many times I’ve wished I could seek his wisdom or even just a hug. I would so love for him to have been able to go for walks in the park with my children and to read them stories. They have no idea what they have missed.

I live in constant dread of the day I lose my parents. Their deaths will destroy me.

I’ve lost both of my parents, but they are still alive, at least, to the best of my knowledge.

There is a lot of regret involved in losing my dad. Logically, I know I was twelve and forced and I couldn’t not say what I was made to say to him, but that was the last time I heard his voice and that just kills me.

My mother is a waste of carbon.

I feel like I am not the same person since I lost both
my parents. Sometimes I feel like I have lost touch
with reality because they are gone. Does that make
sense to anyone? I have lost the 2 people that knew
me and everything I am and i knew in my heart that
because of that i was “safe” and could always go
back home. I am scared that when my husband dies
i will be completely lost in life and will not be able to
carry on. I really don’t have anyone else I am “close to”
that I could get support from…except my sons but they are
so young 23 and 25. I love my husband but somehow I don’t
feel the safety I need from him as I did have with my parents.

It was obvious my father was bored with life and didn’t care much toward the end. He was living alone, continued to drink his vodka “Salty Dogs” daily and inhale his cigars although he had diabetes and a severe heart condition. He and I both knew when I left for Europe that we would never see each other again and spent that last summer playing cards one-on-one everyday and talking about life, family, personal experiences, etc. I was at peace with his death when I got the telegram two months later in Stockholm.

My mother was the anchor to our family. She was the one who mediated, who we all gathered around during crises. She was a true matriarch. Strong, affectionate and judicious. It was very, very hard to lose her. She left a void that has never been completely filled.