It had been a long sixteen months since my parents passed away. My father died from lung cancer. I was certain my mother had died from a broken heart. Their marriage had been a difficult one at times. But nonetheless, my mother never recovered from his death. She seemed to be diminished in some way by her loss. They had married when she was nineteen years old. She didn’t know how to go on without him after he passed away.

When he was alive, his presence in the room, in the house, overshadowed her. It was as if his very presence diminished her. And yet, after he passed away, it seemed as if each day her energy, her presence, faded.

They had been married for fifty-seven years. She really didn’t have a life of her own before her marriage, and during their marriage, he orchestrated every moment of their lives. He decided where they would live and picked out the house without her ever seeing it. He chose all the furniture, the curtains, and the color each room was painted. He never asked her opinion. He was the man of the house. He used to refer to her as Mom. Rarely would he call her Marie.

Some days felt as if they would go on forever. At the same time, it felt like time had passed too quickly. It was hard to think about what the future held without my parents. I couldn’t imagine going through the rest of my life without their presence. My mother’s unquestioning love, my father’s energy, and intelligence, and his powerful presence.

But nonetheless, within eight months, they had both passed away. The house seemed so empty without them that I could hardly bare stepping inside the front door. After I cleaned out the house of all my parents’ belongings, including the well-worn furniture, it echoed when I walked in the front door and closed it behind me.

The last thing  I looked at before I closed the front door for the last time was the black telephone that had hung on the kitchen wall for as long as I could remember. As I stood there, I remembered all the phone calls I had made on it when I was a teenager. And how I called my best friend, Joanie, every day as soon as I got home from school. And I would ask if she would like to go for a ride on their bikes or go ice skating at Strawbridge lake.

And after my husband Bob and I moved back to New Jersey, we bought a small house in Pennsauken, a town fifteen minutes away from Maple Shade, where my parents still lived. I would call my mom and dad every morning to see how they were doing and tell them I would stop by later in the day.

My father would answer the phone and say, “hello, Susan, here’s your mother.” For some reason, he hated talking on the phone. And then he would hand over the phone to my Mother. My mom would say, “Hello, Susie.” I would say, “Hi, Mom, I was just wondering how you and daddy are doing. Is everything alright?”

My mother always said the same thing. “your father is reading the newspaper, and we just ate breakfast. I just got back from church. Are you coming over today?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be over in a little while. Do you need anything?” “No, your father went to the store yesterday. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Later that day after I would come over with my two children and spend some time with my parents. My mother loved to let my youngest daughter sit on her lap. My daughter would play with my mother’s rosary while she sat there, or sometimes she would play with the scapular that hung from my mother’s neck.

Sometimes I would bring my haircutting scissors over to my parent’s house and give my parents a haircut. After I trimmed my mother’s hair, I would set it in bobby pins, and before I left, I would comb it out for her.

My father would sit at the table and read his newspaper silently. My mother would get up several times and refill his coffee cup while he smoked one cigarette after another. He would often tell me what all the neighbors were up to. Since he spent a greater part of the day watching them from the front kitchen window. And he would observe all the activity of any of the neighbors that were out and about. He often commented on how much trash they would put out on the curb.

After my father developed lung cancer, life changed drastically. He rarely got out of bed, and he had little, if anything, to say. If I went into his room, he would say, “leave me now.” Seeing my father looking so pale, thin, and quiet was heartbreaking. It seemed like he was just waiting for the end of his life to come so he could finally have peace.

After he passed away, my mother was never the same. I realized she couldn’t be left alone. So, I hired a woman named Doris Cook to stay with her during the week. And then, my siblings and I took turns having my mother stay at our houses. It was difficult for my mother because she had glaucoma and was unfamiliar with homes other than her own. She began to seem somewhat confused. However, Doris was a godsend, and my mother seemed to be comfortable with her. She was a kind and gentle person.

One night in August, I received a call from Doris that she thought my mother had had a heart attack. I told her to call an ambulance to take my mother to the hospital, and I would be there as quickly as I could. I only lived a few minutes away. My mother never recovered from the heart attack. It is so difficult to lose one’s parents. Until it happens to you can not imagine the sense of loss and emptiness you feel when your parents pass away. It’s almost like a part of you is missing.

As I looked over the house for the last time, I thought back to all the years that I lived there and then all the years afterward. I realized that every lesson I learned in life was a result of my parents. My father taught me to keep learning and growing as a person. And my love taught me how to love and be loved in return. She surely had a heart of gold. And that I was lucky enough to have them for as long as I did.

There aren’t words enough to say how much I loved them, my gratitude for all they did for me, the love, the caring, the sacrifice. I know that I will miss them for the rest of my life. And there hasn’t been a day that has gone by when I don’t think about them.

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