When You Lose Both of Your Parents to the Same Disease

By Juliana Parker, LPCC

My sister and I grew up with a huge, beautiful avocado tree in our backyard. Its fruit wasn't the size you find in grocery stores. Each one was closer to a small bowling ball. Over the years the tree developed a following, and we were always handing avocados to friends and family, who would exclaim with delight when they received them. While we played on our swingset, it was never unusual to hear our parents call out, "Watch out for falling avocados!"

Today, as an adult, I think about my childhood often. I think about the loving, solid foundation my parents gave me and the genuine love I felt from them. They worked so hard to give my sister and me countless opportunities, and they always told us how proud they were. For that, I am eternally grateful.

But inside, I often feel sadness, anger, and despair. Alzheimer's disease took both of my parents. It robbed them of their independence, their curious minds, their daily functioning, and finally their ability to recognize the people who loved them most. They didn't ask for this, and I am often struck by how unfair it is.

Alzheimer's is all-encompassing and heartbreaking, for the patient and for the people who love them. And yet, sitting here today, I realize the disease also gave me an unexpected gift. It has taught me to appreciate the people around me more deeply. I keep my eyes open for hummingbirds and ladybugs. I say “I love you” more out loud, because I know how quickly the chance to say them can slip away.

When I was a child, my parents' warning was always the same: watch out for falling avocados. I never thought much about it then. Now I hear it differently. Life can drop without warning, and the best response I've found is to share what I have while I have it, the way we once handed out those enormous avocados, freely and with delight.

About the Author

Juliana Parker is a Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor with a private practice in Newport Beach, California. She completed the Compassionate Bereavement Care Certification program with the MISS Foundation and her private practice specializes in trauma and grief. She is a proud human and dog mom, wife, friend, and daughter. She can be reached via email at Juliana@coastalpaththerapy.com or www.coastalpaththerapy.com