In my new journey as an adult orphan, I have never felt bad about feeling happy. I enjoyed Christmas with my family two days after Mom died. I enjoyed a birthday lunch with my sisters and fun with my cousins in the days after Dad died. I never once felt guilty or bad about enjoying myself. I was able to do this because I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that is what my parents would want.
My parents had a knack for moving on. No matter what had happened in the past, what tragedies had befallen them, they felt very strongly that one should not dwell on the past. I can remember breaking up with a boy in high school and my mom, after a week of my moping, said “It is just a boy, get over it.” That is how we were brought up. Life knocks you down, get up, dust yourself off and move on.
So it is no surprise that I feel bad about feeling bad. When I get sad, frustrated or depressed, I hear my parents telling me “Get over it”.
On Sunday, going through another box of their kitchen ware, it was like they were being erased. Their house is empty and their possessions are scattered as we decide what to keep, donate or throw away. I felt very empty and sad. Then someone asked a question that implied my brother, sisters and I should be healed from our loss by now. So then I felt empty, sad and guilty. Guilty that I was sad that I missed my parents. Ugh.
Should we be over this by now?