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The Unofficial Expert

Even at my lowest, I manage to keep my cool and do what needs to be done. I got both parents to blame for that. My dad is a “man of his word” type of guy. He’s a stickler for being on time and doesn’t like loose ends. My mom always kept an organized home. Everything had its place. If it was on the floor that meant you didn’t want it and in the trash it went. She could multi-task that woman! I get it from her. 

I am the person people call when there’s a question. Delphine will know. Or if she doesn’t, she knows somebody who knows somebody. Casualty of being a social worker. Jack of all trades and master of some. 

Once you have lost a parent, you become an unofficial expert in all things grief and loss related. You now know more than your fair share about hospice, life insurance, living wills, burial plots, penning an obituary, you name it. And in between the bouts of tears and gulps for air, you have emerged as the all-knowing bastion of all things concerning death and dying. 

I woke up one day and realized I can talk about losing my mom without outright crying in front of folks. Practice made perfect. But talk to me about flowers at her gravesite or that embroidery cloth I need to frame and I’m back to being a puddle of sad emoticons. There is still more to go. 

In the mean time, my passion is to share with all who wish to hear about that murky future that lies before us. Future of suddenly ill parents. Future of parents with terminal diseases. Future of all the things we think about but don’t dare speak of–until that day arrives. I have always been about passing along knowledge. This is not one of those things that I can afford to clam up on. Someone held my hand through my season. Least I can do is return the favor. 

It’s not a matter of if, but when your season will come. When it does, there will be someone to stop by and walk you through it. 

  

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