Parents

Photo from here.

So my parents are at a funeral tonight. It's their 3rd one in the last 5 days. Thankfully (not for the ones who've lost their loved ones, of course -- may they rest in peace) tonight's wake is for someone who is older than them (one of their friend's dad I think); but the other 2 were relatively contemporaries both in age and and lifestyle. Having my parents go off to these funerals feels terrifying and unsettling for me. While it is a fact of life that people die and that more often than not, our parents die before us, I question whether I am ready to survive a life without them. Most days, I think I am not. I question whether they have taught me (or whether I have learned) enough life skills to live on, and I also question if they feel like they know me well enough to make a pronouncement on whether or not I have made them proud as a person.

A lot of the time, during the most random things, I find myself looking at them and thinking about things I will miss about them when they are gone. Like how my mom falls asleep every time without fail when praying the rosary, even if she is the one leading it. Like how my dad's shirt hangs over his belly when he's sleeping, exposing his midriff to the cool air of the electric fan. Like how my dad bangs on my door in the morning to let me know that we are eating breakfast.  Like how when I look at my mom, even when she is being obstinately difficult and irrational, I see a sense of survival that I find myself depending on and that I am not sure I have. Like how when I turn on the radio in search of happy sunday music (mostly standards), I often see my dad's rounded figure tapping his fingers out on the table because he loves those too.

I am thirty now. It is such a strange and scary place. I thought I would know more, be more -- but I'm not sure I do, I definitely know that I'm not (as I imagined I would be at this age). What I can pride myself on though is that I am trying. Always trying. With weekend plans, with my daily life, with my plans for the future.   But what I am sure of is that I am thirty, I am not quite ready to be without parents yet. Not to move out, not to get married, and certainly not to fend for myself in the case of untimely demise (DEAR GOD NO). Who knew that I would be feeling this way at thirty? I know sometime in the future I must be ready, or at the very least, willing to live in a world where I have the most grownup opinion that I can count on.  But not yet, God.  Not yet.