Dad was 59 when he died of colon cancer. I was 19.
Mom died last year at the age of 97. I was 59.
I miss them both very much.
I was 31 when my mom died. She had a peripheral bypass procedure done to her legs, and had a stroke afterward. She was on life support for a week.
This was only a year after my older sister took her own life.
It was a very rough time in my life. I’m almost 58 now. I still miss them both very much. My Dad is 92, and lives with my husband and me. He has many age related ailments, but has no dementia, thank God.
I was 21 when my father died of a sudden heart attack. I miss his advice everyday.
My father, who abandoned us when I was about two, died in the 1963 when I was 16. He was an alcoholic who died in a motel room drowning in his own blood from a throat hemorrhage. I didn’t give a shit then, and don’t give a shit now.
My stepfather died in 1987 of renal failure when I was 40. He wasn’t much of a father figure, and it was a relief for my mother to be able to stop taking care of him, I’m sure. She died in 1991 of metastasized breast cancer when I was 44. I drank a bottle of wine in her memory and shed some tears.
I was 33, my mother 56 when she died. She had beat cancer twice but lost the third battle. That was 27 years ago. Doesn’t seen like it’s been that long. I visited her grave site this past weekend. Her grave marker looks old and weather worn compared to 2 year old marker next to hers. My wife and I talked about getting a new marker, something a little nicer. We went cheap back then, me and my siblings should be able to do something a lot nicer now.
My Dad died last year. He was just short of 71, I as 43.
It was fine. I wish he could have lived longer, but he lived long enough to see his children grown, and meet his grandchildren, and enjoy more than ten years of retirement after a good career. He was very sick, and his death was a relief in many ways. His wisdom had departed him for some months before he died. In his final days, family members were with him at every moment. Many people came to pay their respects at the service, speaking highly of him.
I miss him, but such is life, and is as it should be.
He has no grave - he was cremated and I disposed of his ashes in a place that meant something to him. He needs no grave. His family remembers him, and that is what matters.
I was 34. Dad was 73. It was not altogether unexpected, but it happened very suddenly.
We all know we’re going to lose our parents someday, but I was not prepared for the visceral shock when it really happened. I remember walking out of the hospital in disbelief that the world around me was continuing normally.
My dad died January of last year from what turned out to be a heart attack at the age of 71. I was 39. He seemed to have aged dramatically in the last two years. His mind was fine, but he got frail. He’d had high blood pressure and had a stent put in two years ago. He no longer had the strength to spend all day out visiting people and talking like he used to. He spent more time at home on the computer. He died visiting us, and it was pretty hard. His death hit us all hard. We had a funeral service where a lot of his friends from the area and people who’d worked for him came. We had a service for him in Brazil where he’d worked the last few years before retiring there and where he was from.
I dealt with it by keeping busy wrapping up his affairs. Mom was in no shape to do so, so I took a month off to get the process started and met with attorneys and other people. Mom decided to move closer to us, so I arranged all of that as well. I went to Brazil this year to finalize things and to sort out some lingering issues that needed resolution. The day the last issues there were resolved felt unexpectedly sad, like some last link had slipped away.
I still miss him terribly. We spoke via Skype three time a week and messaged a lot. I feel like his death aged me in some way. Some of the fun of life went out. In the back of my mind, I felt like I could always ask him for help figuring out things and for advice.
Same, except Mom was 82 and I was 42.
I was 44, dad was 75 when emphysema got him 2 years ago. When the phone rang at 6 am on a Saturday, I knew it would be about him. But I didn’t expect it to be his death. I had last seen him at Christmas and he was pretty frail but getting along. My sister had visited in the time since and said that he’d gone downhill fast. In his last weeks, he seemed determined to finish himself off with the cigarettes.
On a side note, mom like to buy clothes for both him and me and would often get two of the same outfit. This led to the moment when someone at the wake noticed that I was dressed almost identically to the guy in the coffin. Must have been really weird for everyone else to see me since I already look JUST LIKE my dad and was now even dressed just like him.
My dad died when I was 50. A long time to have him around, but not long enough…
I was the child of a single mother- I had a completely absent father. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since age 13.
My mother died of a sudden heart attack when I was 18- she was 51 at the time. I don’t remember much of that year, honestly. I’m 48 now, and can’t shake the feeling that I’ve only got three more years left.
My dad died from lung cancer at 83 in 2005 when I was 43. I think the biggest shock and acknowledgement of his mortality was when he had a heart attack at some point in his illness and my sister and I rushed down to VA (we were in NYC) and he was in a hospital bed with all the tubes going in and out. He recovered but after that it was one treatment failure after another and then the waiting.
My mom also died from lung cancer in 2010 at 78. Both parents died at home in the same room. There was a good deal of preparation from the hospice service so there were no surprises.
In between, one of my sisters died from sepsis in 2008, leaving me with one other sister, so when my mom died in 2010 I was going through old pictures and the grief hit really hard. My family I had known forever was pretty much gone.
My dad died Feb 22 1991. He was in Cairo Egypt and had a massive heart attack He was 59½. I was just turning 31 three days later.
My mom and dad divorced after my sister graduated from HS, about 10 years prior to his death. My dad then “came out” and boy did he come out!! In his own words he would have said the last ten years of his life were FABULOUS!
HE was an administrator at King Fahad military hospital in Jeddah Saudi Arabia and had an office in Cairo. I honestly believe the start of the first gulf war was a contributing factor in his demise…
I miss you dad, wish you would have got a chance to meet my two kids!
Mom is still kicking and pissing vinegar at 79. Love you too mom…I will can cel out your vote on election day…LOL
I was 44; my mom died 10 months ago. She was 67.
It was sudden.
I’m still dealing with it.
(The “firsts” aren’t over yet; e.g., next week will be my first birthday without her.)
My father died just a month shy of my 40th birthday in 2008. He died of a lung infection that was a result of treatments for cancer. He turned 69 on Dec 6th and was doing pretty well. We were all certain he would be home for Christmas. Instead, he took got this infection and died on Dec 23. It will be 8 years and there are days it is just a painful as it was back then. Christmas will always be emotionally complicated for me from now on.
I was 47 and dad was 79 when he died.
My mother died at 88 of a sudden heart attack. She always seemed much younger than her age and remarkably lively. Since my father had always been more prone to ailments since the war and more and more invalid with arthritis and sundry other conditions, no-one would have thought she’d go first. It led to a pretty miserable last eighteen months of life for him.
I was 41 and Mom was 66. So was Pop, and they had been married 44 years.
I still can’t believe it’s true so it hasn’t really it me yet. (I’m almost 48.) I thought it was kill me but thanks be to God I feel peace that she is happy and not suffering through life anymore. I miss her but I wouldn’t want her back because she is so happy where she is. 
I had just turned 5 when my mother died at age 29 from septicaemia. I remember specific little moments with her and I am glad that I do as my two younger brothers have no memory of her whatsoever.
Finally, after a traumatic 3 years of being passed around the family and not being treated too well in some places, my dad’s parents got me for good. They’d been trying for a while but my dad resisted them. My grandparents became my parents and I was fortunate to have my grandmother until I was 25, she died of liver cancer at just shy of 80. My grandfather, who was younger than her by 4 years, died at 83 so I was into my 30’s by the then.
My father is still alive at 79 but he has dementia and is in a nursing home. I have been estranged from him for years.
It’s funny but I never really take the death of loved ones to heart. Yes, I miss them and do grieve for them but it’s not something that ever knocks me sideways. However, whenever one of my beloved pets die I feel it much more keenly, although I am pretty good at hiding it. I think I maybe don’t let myself get attached to people, or maybe it just isn’t in me to get attached?