In Limbo

My Thoughts On Being Parentless

Shadow Soul, monotype by artist Michelle Lindblom

Limbo and Vertigo

For the past few months, I have felt outside of myself, as if floating in the clouds, in limbo. Present enough to function in the day-to-day but detached from more complicated matters, I have felt disconnected from more complicated matters. It began with some annoying imbalance issues and vertigo. My thoughts were scattered and unstable. Brain fog had set in, and, distracted, I was not able to concentrate for any period of time. My mind and body were obviously trying to tell me something.

I have found that when these issues occur in concert with one another, it is a sign that I need to slow down and reflect on the internal. In addition, I need to check in with my immediate environment and see how it is affecting my overall health and well-being.

When contemplating my vertigo experiences over the past eight years, I realize they have all come at times of transition. I cannot fully explain this phenomenon and do not necessarily want to. It’s simply a time when I need to absorb that uncertainty and let it do its thing.

Admittedly, when experiencing the full-on effects of vertigo, I do seriously want to die. The spinning, imbalance, nausea, brain fog, and listlessness are unbearable for me. I am a wimp when not feeling myself.

Luckily, these sessions usually last no more than 24 hours. On the other hand, this particular time, the residuals lasted several days to almost a week, which gave me further impetus to explore the whys.

So, after sitting with these recent feelings of suspension, I realized that I am now, indeed, parentless. Dad since 2006, and mom just recently passed away. It is a bizarre and unsettling awareness. One that has me levitating between the past and the present.

There is a sensation of being untethered from whatever hold my mother and father may have had on me. And I do not mean that in a negative way. I think it is more of a physical detachment because that is no longer possible.

Death is a natural progression for all universal beings, but it is one that our modern human society does not do well in recognizing. Myself included. The imbalance I have felt clearly indicates a shift is occurring. My parents are both gone; now what?

Permission to Move On

When parents move beyond the physical world, those they leave behind have permission to move on with their lives. It is a right of passage and a legacy most parents want to impart. It is not an easy path for those remaining in limbo. Flashbacks of our lives revisit us through the memories of and with our parents. There is no going back. Not that we want to in some cases, but it is the finality of that fact that stings our hearts.

The death of both parents makes moving on a necessity. There is no choice. There is no limbo in this reality.

I do admit I had been preparing for my mother’s death for some time. Wanting her to stay longer, but also not wanting to continue witnessing her decline. Besides this, in my heart, I knew what her wishes were.

Mom’s tenacity helped guide her through her 70s, but it was her lung capacity after years of smoking and then the depression after the death of my father that set her life’s course once she reached the milestone of 80.

The fact that she made it to 83 was somewhat of a miracle based on the early deaths of her own parents, her mother at 61 and her father at 74. They endured their parents (my great grandparents) emigration as Germans from Russia to the starkness of the Midwest. The early 1900s through the 1930s was a life of survival and not much else, especially in rural America. I have little doubt that depression was a prominent factor in the deaths of my grandparents and was partially responsible for eventually taking my mother.

Being Close to Death

Undertones of despair and loneliness were in Mom’s voice the last few years of her life. She missed my dad, and as much as she attempted to disguise it, I felt her despair in my bones. I knew where she would rather be even as she gravitated in her own kind of limbo.

On December 24th, 2022, she went into the hospital with a broken hip (which she survived). But five days later, her lungs gave up the fight, and she left her physical being behind. Decoupling from her body and shifting her roots to those of the spiritual kind. I feel her every day and am now recognizing and taking comfort in those roots she left behind.

Observing my mother for the last ten years or so, I have come to understand why some people would rather just give up this world than continue to endure the physical and emotional pain. It is just too much, and for what? To satisfy the seemingly selfish needs of family and friends? To be told, you will have to be hooked up to an oxygen tank for the rest of your life. Or shell out thousands of dollars for medications that just mask the issues you have while the world carries on without you?

This can be especially true if you have known a pretty good life. One where you were able to move about with ease and enjoy the fruits of your labors. Some people are not able to fathom a time when they cannot or no longer want to do these things. Mom was as independent as they come. She did and said most of what she wanted when she wanted and was physically active and in good health. Smoking had not yet affected her health directly, at least not until her mid-70s. But it was indeed lurking beneath the surface and slowly doing its damage.

Toward the end, my mother’s mind and body worked in concert, guiding her ultimate desire. She felt it, listened and decided to let go. She is now untethered from the world, as I am untethered from her. We both are liberated and have permission to move on.

Image: Shadow Soul, monotype

This image represents the various shadow versions of ourselves that are revealed as we begin shedding the old, making way for the new. Regarding this article, I feel my parents are a part of these shadows, always with me and in my heart. They are giving me the space and time to move on.

Going Through the Motions

Michelle Lindblom Studio