Recently, while conversing with a contractor working in my home, we discovered a poignant commonality: both of us had lost our parents during our teenage years. As we shared our stories, it became evident that the impact of such loss deepens with age.
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This exchange transported me back to a chilly evening in the mid-90s on the Princess of Scandinavia, sailing from Newcastle to Gothenburg. To clear my head from the evening's vodka, I ascended to the top deck. The northern sky, a clear vault peppered with stars, offered a silent spectacle just for me—a view never to be replicated. In that vast, quiet expanse, I felt a kinship with Ingmar Bergman, who described in The Magic Lantern his own battles with inner demons. Overwhelmed and feeling eternally trapped, I thought of my adopted father, lost to me at age twelve. My heart whispered a verse:
Meet me amidst the ocean,
Under my Northern sky,
To the light of constellations,
As our restless stars pass by.
This reflective moment underscores why I cherish the Swedish concept of 'sambovikt'—a term that captures the essence of human connection. It highlights a stark reality: too many children grow up in the shadow of an absent parent. I hold deep empathy for the pain these children endure and will continue to face.
True happiness, I've come to realize, stems from stable, long-term, trusting relationships. This foundation is crucial not just for couples, but profoundly affects the children they raise. A father's closure of eyes when I was just twelve left a void of guidance, of bedtime stories that spark the imagination—stories like David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, and Pinocchio. While many single parents admirably juggle the dual burdens of household and heartache, the absence of a parental figure often leaves children grappling with a pervasive loneliness and a sense that something integral is missing from their lives.
Children flourish under the praise of both parents, just as they grow from constructive feedback. Without this balanced presence, they often carry a burden of unresolved yearning.
In pondering 'sambovikt,' I am reminded that our quest for meaning and connection is deeply tied to these foundational relationships. It is in these bonds that we find the deepest echoes of what it means to be human.
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I am experiencing this grief but at a later stage in life. Being the youngest of my mother's children, still (I feel like) a child nonetheless. The irony is the wonderment in my mind: "What if this happened to me when I was a child?" "What if I had more time to 'reconcile' or come to terms with it better?" I guess I have my answer....
Thank you for sharing this beautiful post
Ps they never really leave you
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Dear Noreen,
Thank you for your kind thoughts. I believe there will always be a child inside us, and no matter our age, the loss of a parent is devastating. This grief often creeps up on us later in life, when we least expect it.
Six months ago, while walking along a part of Scotland's coastline, I noticed a woman trying to conceal her tears. I approached her and asked if she was okay. She shared that she had recently lost her mother. We spent some time discussing her feelings, and I encouraged her to express her thoughts through writing, as a form of therapy.
Warm regards,
Jim
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Dear Jim,I agree. Sharing helps, and expressing this grief that is all very consuming.
I compare it to an onion, with many layers to it.
Praying also helps.
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Of course, Noreen. Prayer would be a priority. Thanks.