What Losing our Parents Teaches us about Death – and Life

The reality of grief in midlife

It’s disorientating. Your parents are the people who knew you first. They hold your history and memories, and suddenly they’re no longer there in the same way. You may also be supporting your own children through the grief. In Lorna’s case, her daughter was only 12 years old. You are often trying to hold everyone else together while managing your own sorrow too.

Grief cannot be rushed, but midlife often leaves very little space for it.

“It’s hard because life just carries on like nothing happened. Work needs your attention, your family is still hungry at dinner time, kids need to be dropped at school, and the world keeps moving while your heart is broken.”

Making space for sorrow

After losing her younger brother and then her father two days later, Lorna said she simply didn’t have space for more than one sorrow at a time. The grief for her father only came later, when there was room to feel it.

Lorna found comfort in Michael Rosen’s The Sad Book – a heartbreaking account of a father’s grief for his son. As she explained it: “I love the simplicity of the book, how raw sadness is, and how we often pretend to be happy when we’re sad.” Sometimes, we don’t realise how much grief we’re carrying until much later.

The process of dying

Many people in midlife are caring for ageing parents, and that may include being with them through the dying process. Lorna’s mom (and dad) died at home, cared for by their daughters.

“We knew my mom was dying. There was nothing else the doctors could do, and medicine can only keep you going for so long. We wanted to understand how the dying process works and what to expect.”

One of the books that helped them was Crossing the Creek, which explores the emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of dying. Lorna said understanding more about the process helped reduce some of the fear and anxiety surrounding death itself.

They also found comfort in the work of Dr BJ Miller, a palliative care physician who speaks openly and compassionately about death, dignity, and end-of-life care. His TED Talk, What really matters at the end of life, has been viewed by millions.

“We learnt how to hold space for someone in their final transition; that reminiscing can be part of healing and finding peace; that dignity matters; and when it may be time to let someone know it’s okay to go ‘home’.

My brother was extraordinarily brave. Two days before he died, he planned his ‘send-off’ with us down to the finest detail.

We also learned that when someone is dying, you have to meet them where they are. It’s not about your fear or your need to hold on, but about supporting them and simply being alongside them in their journey.”

The surviving parent

Before Lorna’s mom became ill, her dad was active and deeply engaged in life. He played professional tennis well into his 80s. He was always writing; he drove everywhere, helped people around him, and stayed connected to the things that gave him meaning and purpose.

After his wife became ill, he eventually left their home in Johannesburg to move closer to his daughters and be near her full-time. Looking back now, Lorna says the signs were there long before his death. This is how she put it:

“He only brought clothes, furniture, and essentials with him.
He left behind the family albums, his tennis racket, and his will to live.”

She realised in hindsight how our parents find joy and purpose differently. For her mom, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were her whole life. Her dad found meaning differently. Tennis was his life. Writing was his passion. Being useful to others gave him meaning. When those things disappeared, he slowly withdrew from life itself.

“Crossing the Creek taught us that withdrawing from the things you love doing can be the first step of dying.”

When life suddenly feels finite

Lorna shared how much this experience changed the way she thinks about time. Seeing her younger brother die before the age of 50 made her realise how fragile life really is. That much loss also changed the way she thought about money.

She still believes in planning responsibly, but she no longer believes every spare cent should be held back for “one day.” As she explained it: “Life demands being lived right now.”

That doesn’t mean spending recklessly or abandoning long-term planning. It means recognising that money is there to support your life while you are living it.

I often see this shift happen after people lose their parents. Priorities change. People become less interested in proving themselves and more interested in living honestly and meaningfully. You realise there may not always be another opportunity, another conversation, or another year.

Living more fully while we still can

We don’t always talk openly about the anxiety, the loneliness, or the emotional weight that comes with losing parents, but I think these conversations matter. Loss changes how we think about time, purpose, relationships, and money. And while grief always stays with you in some ways, many people eventually find themselves living more honestly, more intentionally, and more presently because of it.