From Grief to Relief

"I'm so sorry for yoUr loss."

After my parents died three weeks apart, I heard that sentiment from my friends, my parents' friends, business associates and relatives in their wish to comfort me in my hour(s) of grief.

But what I actually felt wasn't grief — it was relief. And I was ashamed of myself for feeling it.

Looking back, I can see it was normal to feel this way, since dementia swiftly replaced the sharp, witty, fun, engaged people I knew with mere shells of the vibrant people they once were. To me, it felt like the Mom and Dad I knew "died" a few years before they actually did.

I've heard this called “The Long Goodbye”. Good term. And it perfectly describes my grief.

I was crushed daily by waves of heart-achy, angry, forlorn, raw and hopeless feelings, all intertwined...with no relief in sight. This rollercoaster from hell went on for over two years, which felt more like 10. "Death by a thousand cuts" is how my husband described it.

So, when my Dad died, I didn't really feel grief — I felt relief that his suffering was over. Same when Mom died three weeks later.

During their funerals and for months after, people would of course say, "I'm so sorry for your loss," to which I'd reply, "Thank you," and truly mean it. But what I wanted, and probably should have said, was, "It's okay. I lost them long ago. I'm just glad this is finally over for them. And me."

But I didn't, because it's not what you say. Maybe it should be, at least when it's death by dementia or some other insidious, progressive disease.

During a long goodbye, it's like your grief is frontloaded. By the time your loved one passes, you've already grieved the impending loss. And after they're gone? Hopefully you can reminisce, celebrate ... and exhale.