I experienced a little PTSD today. I went to church this morning at the small country church where both my parents’ funerals were held. As I went to communion, I passed by the first pew that nobody ever sits in. I looked over at it and suddenly, a vision of myself dressed in black, sobbing, and holding my oldest sister popped into my head. I tried to shake these memories out of my head, but it was hard. The rest of church I couldn’t help but stare at that very first pew.
It was at that moment, that I decided to remember a few good memories of my parents. As I miss them, the good memories are good for me to focus on and draw myself away from the pain of grief. I remembered my father’s love for my mother. The way he would look at her adoringly. The way he would cherish her. It was a great love. In fact, he would take a weekly, if not daily, drive by the cemetery were my mother’s gravesite exists. I think that is very sweet. He would also spray her perfume to smell her again. He missed her for 10 long years and I am very glad that he is with her again.
Interestingly, my father passed away with a smile on his face. The smile he wore in his final moment on earth was the exact smile he would give when he saw my mother walk into a room. Although it was sad and traumatic seeing his dead body, that smile was a comfort to me. All I could think was, mom came for him. He saw my mother. He is with her again. And I firmly believe that is what happened. He was greeted by his true love, my mother, and was excited to be reunited with both of his parents and her. His love for my mother was truly an everlasting love.