What My Parents Taught Me in Their Final Round: Resilience, healing, and the power of "no."

Remember when Mike Tyson was at the top of his game? His bouts typically lasted a few minutes into the first round, and then it was over for his opponent.

The ring of life

Grief is like his knockout punch. We're milling around in the ring of life, then a punch we didn't see coming knocks us to the ground. Stunned, we don't know whether to stand, just lie there, or what? Usually, we get our bearings and stand back up. However, some of us stay down, not knowing how to navigate now that the ring of life has changed.

Having lost my father this week, I'm wondering how different moving through the world will be. How will I navigate not having a mother or father to call and lean on now? In less than two years, I lost both parents. My mother was the knockout punch. I was just with her. I just spoke to her the night before. The next morning, she was gone. In that immediate moment, I was inconsolable. I didn't feel like getting up. With my dad, I was with him a few days prior, taking him to the hospital. He didn't look well. I told a friend it was like his body was folding in on itself. I knew his time was coming. I felt it.

I was gifted with the task of taking them to their doctors' appointments, conversing with their doctors, keeping up with their medications, making sure they had what they needed. We had moments of conversation during those visits that we might not have had any other time. It was in those moments that my parents could speak freely with their daughter without any outside ears hearing and correcting or negating their thoughts or feelings. It was in those moments I learned who they were, who they wanted to be, and how life got in the way.

They were teenagers when I was born in a time when smoking was cool. It was the stress of life, family, and other obstacles that caused them to find relief in smoking. Their addiction started young. Cigarettes compromised my mother's lungs and took her life, and they contributed to my father's multiple health issues and subsequent death as well. That's not an opinion. I heard what the doctors said and did not say. If it wasn't for the smoking, they might have reached their 80s, even 90s, because they both have relatives who lived past 100. Longevity was in the genes if tobacco didn't get in the way.

I stopped smoking in my mid-20s before I even thought about having a child. The last cigarette I had was on that fateful day of 9/11/2001. It wasn't helpful. I immediately threw it out. I found other ways to relieve stress that didn't involve compromising my health. Writing was my first stress reliever; laughing was second. These were two techniques I did not have to spend money on, and honestly, they kept me sane. I still use them today. As I matured, exercise and sitting in nature became additional tools I used to counteract life's stressors. Now, as a Reiki practitioner and sound healer, I have several tools at my disposal. I think my strongest tool is knowing that the word no is a complete sentence.

I wish my parents had different tools to use instead of tobacco. They might still be here, if only for a little while longer. I wish they knew the power of "No!" when their lives were being handled and compromised. I wish they had a place to go and think, relax, and just be when being human got to be just a little too much.

But that wasn't the ring of life they lived in back then.