Who Am I Now? Reflections on My Parents and the Legacy of Presence

Reflections on My Parents:

So much of my journey in massage has been tied to my parents. Mom and Dad were the reason I started down this path. Every new skill I pursued, every modality I trained in, had them in mind.

As I ponder this, it makes even more sense why I feel so lost. Because that part of my life, community, work that they made real to me, is now different and just mine.

My Mom was a survivor of stage 4 cancer, and my Dad was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor, I turned to oncology massage so I could care for them both safely and gently. When they needed relief from persistent aches, I sought out Neural Reset Therapy and later Quantum Alignment Technique. In so many ways, they were my first and deepest reasons for becoming the therapist I am today.

My Dad’s decline was slow but relentless. Week by week, I could feel his cells failing under my hands, and it broke me a little more each time. Yet, in the midst of that pain, he gave me one of the greatest gifts of my life: meeting me at the end of the aisle on September 22, 2018 and giving me away to my husband, Timothy. Less than two months later, on November 11, he passed away peacefully in his sleep.

The very next day, November 12, Tim and I were scheduled to leave for our honeymoon in London, UK.

I remember telling Mom that morning, “We can stay, we don’t have to go.”

She looked at me, steady and strong even in her own grief, and said, “No. Your father would want you to go.” So we went — carrying both the joy of our marriage and the fresh ache of loss in the same breath.

Mom herself was a strong woman. She carried herself with cheerfulness right up to the end. Her tissue, her tone, her presence — none of it portrayed what was happening beneath the surface. Even in her final weeks, when I was caring for her daily, she brushed off my concern with a gentle, “I am feeling better.” I could see something was shifting, but I didn’t know what more I could do. On the morning of July 14th, I hugged her and said, “I love you, I’ll see you when I get back home.”

She replied, “I love you, Hon, I’ll see you when you get back.”

By noon, a friend had taken her to the ER. At 4 PM, I had just made it home from work when he called me and said, “You need to come now. Your Mom is calling for you.” My whole body caught fire with urgency. I rushed to grab my purse to leave, and in that moment I felt a caring presence and heard the Lord whisper clearly in my spirit: “Wait.”

It made no sense. Every part of me longed to run to her side, but I obeyed that still voice. I paced, I prayed, I waited — until Tim and my sister arrived, and then we drove together to the hospital.

When we arrived, the doctors had just pronounced her dead.

In the room, I held Mom’s hand. She was still warm, still radiant, her tissue unchanged, as if life had only just slipped away.

My heart felt deep anguish, my mind was a landscape of void, and my very essence felt like it shattered into unfixable pieces.

A question surfaced in my heart and mind "Who am I now?"

Commitments:

From these experiences, I’ve learned a truth that is hard but sacred: no matter how strong someone seems, life is never guaranteed. We don’t always get the chance to say what we wish we had said.

So I am making a new discipline to myself:

If I like something about someone, I will tell them right away. I won’t hold back. I will speak the words of love, appreciation, and gratitude while I can — because I know too well how quickly the chance can disappear.

This is how I want to honor my parents’ legacy — by choosing to 'Hold Space and Be With' in the moment and show and remind them how important they are, while it can still be received.

On the flip side, I will also be more forthcoming about my feelings when asked "How are you doing?". I will do my best to describe honestly and kindly. A way I have always felt I needed to be, though, in times past too shy to speak freely. I still believe "If they have the courage to ask me a question, I want to meet them with the same respectful courage to answer them."