Just over two years ago — when I became but a drop in the Silver Tsunami — all four of my parental units were still alive. Since then, three of four have passed as has yet another elder who was instrumental in raising me.
I felt blessed to have held each of my natural parents’ hands as they took their last breath. In those moments, I witnessed the paradox of life’s power and fragility and completed a loving service that could never be returned.
As with anyone who has lost sentinel family figures, I now find myself stuck in a world of in-betweens; I’m trying to figure out how to carry my parents’ legacy forward while no longer being able to physically touch them. Each of us must create our own template for how to accomplish this and the only way to learn is by living through the dark times and reminding ourselves of the gifts they gave us.
Mining those gift was not always easy when my parents were alive. I’ve weathered multiple cold wars with each of my parents, often sparked by my indignation over imagined favors given to my siblings over me or abandonments of which I was just as guilty. Try as I might, I could not “divorce” myself from any of my parents. Their literal and/or spiritual DNA was inexorably woven into me.
Fortunately, the DNA helix is a traveling spiral, not an endless loop onto itself. Its very structure suggests my solution: just keep moving. Life will twist and turn. To find my way, I must release resistance and find strength in flexibility.
Many of the lessons my wife, Susan, and I have learned while pet parenting our dogs Louie and Lilly mirror those that many parents learn while raising human children. How to coax without pushing. How to correct without shaming. How to guide without over-protecting. Because our dogs were both rescues, we had to gently undo the damage leveled upon them by the denial and neglect of their original owners while maintaining our authority as heads of household.
Juggling this plate-spinning circus act gave me a deep appreciation for the daunting challenges I posed to my natural and “step” parents, each of whom were dealing with their own challenges and just trying to figure life out as they went along. As a child, I expected them to know the unknowable, fill my bottomless chasm of want and anticipate my every curveball. I tapped my feet impatiently and was most unforgiving when they came up empty. Their responses (or lack thereof) confirmed my suspicions that they were woefully inept as parents and that I “knew better.” Such was the “logic” of this petulant child — even after he became an adult.
Pets may not expect us to have all the answers. But, like human children, they need a container for their growing pains, social awkwardness, and occasional outbursts. As it is with parents to human children, we don’t have to have all the answers. We only have to live our lives into them — and be there for our animal companions, whatever those answers bring.
Today is Mother’s Day. The first without my natural mother who died peacefully last Sunday. My “step” mother is the last one standing among the parental units who raised me. Soon as my fingers leave this keyboard, I will call and thank her for being every bit the mother to me when it counted most.
And I will tell her how many good answers she really had.