I don't really have anyone who would understand this...so I thought this would be a safe place to vent all this out without getting judged for it. I had wonderful parents...things were very much like a 1950s movie in our home. I'll not lie, it was a great way to grow up. I really didn't know how good I had it. I grew up, got married, and had my own kids. Things were good but even in my 20s I still didn't "get" how great my parents were. I love them, they loved me...but I still hadn't seen enough of the world to truely appreciate just how much they had done for me. In my late 20s, both of my parents became ill...my mom died within 6 months. I did everything I could for her during that time. Then I had daddy...and I took care of him 24/7 for the next several years until he passed. The next year after that was just a blur...caregiving at such a young age and while taking care of 2 young children at the same time was exhausting. I needed to rest and regroup.
By this time I was in my early 30s...both of my parents were dead and I simply put myself into neutral emotionally about it. I have my own family and needed to focus on them. But now...several years have gone by. I'm older, pushing 40, and I've seen more of what the world has to offer and how so many families treat each other. And I finally get it. I totally understand how good I had it growing up. I see with such clarity why my parents did the things they did and why they did them that way.
And now...finally...I'm starting to truly grieve their deaths. And I feel totally jipped because most people my age are still spending holidays with and having Sunday dinner with their parents. I have questions I want to ask them but I'll never get that chance. It's all sort of culminated with me feeling this desperation to incorporate my parents "ways" into my own life. My mom had some beautiful vintage jewelry and that's almost all I wear anymore. I listen to the old music they listened to. I cook the things she cooked and fix the same kind of tea at dinner that she fixed. I even fix my hair the way my mom did when she was my age. I combed through 200 pages on Etsy to find a brooch and ear ring set identical to one my mom wore quite often. (I found it!! Woohoo!!)
Like I said in my title, I feel this odd desperation to remember as much as I can and hold onto it and recreate it in my own life. I get it now. I only wish I had the chance to understand what I understand now and have them still be here. (Sigh...)