The author and his mother, posing together for a photo

There are rhythms to life that are both natural and unsettling at the same time. I’m currently experiencing two at the same time. The loss of a parent, and entering the stage of life with no living parents.

It’s bizarre that these events feel tragic and unfair. When I examine it even casually, it’s the natural order of things. Parents should never have to bury their children so naturally the reverse must be true. But experiencing it gives a feeling of your roots being razed.

The feelings become more complex when your parent(s) lived somewhere that you strongly identify with them. How does that place fit into your life now that there’s a large piece of the puzzle missing? Will it ever feel the same?

I’m preparing for the long, solitary drive down to Georgia to help with the funeral arrangements. I feel an odd sense of relief to be making this drive alone and giving myself an opportunity to process things internally. A chance for thought and reflection unrestrained by the need to be OK.

I wish this post had more clear goals. You’re being subjected to a semi-stream of consciousness as I process my grief through words. Why I’m processing it publicly is beyond me. But it feels right.