Navigating the Grief of Losing a Parent

My mom, Juanita Mae Gallagher, 100, passed away June 20th in her sleep…6 months after her 100th birthday. I wrote a previous Blog about the celebration.

Losing a parent(s) can be profound, life-altering, and/or a blessing. Whether the relationship was close, complicated, or somewhere in between, the death of a parent can leave us feeling a void, like a part of our foundation has crumbled. When my dad, Robert Paul, passed away 21 years ago, after 60 years of marriage, one of my 10 brothers said, “Well it’s time we grow up.” The passing of my mom feels different and I’m not sure I have the words for it.

For me, grieving the loss of our mom brings up a complex mix of emotions. I mourn the loss of the person she was, the role she played in our life, our phone conversations, and even the future moments she’ll no longer be part of — birthdays, holidays, life milestones. But more than any of that, I am so grateful for the 100 blessed years she gave us, and the honoring of her legacy.

I’m one of her 12 children…number 7, the first girl of 10 brothers and 1 sister. We live all over the country but born and raised in Ohio…all still alive and well.

Reaching 100 years of life is rare and beautiful milestone – a full century of memories, lessons, laughter, tears, resilience, faith, and change. When a mom lives to be 100, her passing isn’t just the end of a life. It’s the closing of an era, a living history now woven into the hearts of those she loved.

Our mom lived to witness an astonishing world of change – wars and peace, the depression to booming economics, typewriters and tablets, black-and-white TV to streaming video, land-lines to Smartphones. She had 5 sons in the military, all returned home safely. But more than the historical events, it’s the personal moments that leave the deepest imprint: the way she loved and welcomed each of us and made us all feel we were her favorite, the meals she cooked from scratch and memory, the ironed clothes and organized closets, and the quiet prayers she offered up for each of us, including 24 grandchildren, 43 great-grandchildren, and 5 great-great grandchildren. When a mom lives to 100, she leaves behind far more than photographs or heirlooms. She leaves faith, values, wisdom, lessons, traditions, humor, and her devotion to family. We carry pieces of her in the way we love others, in choices we make, and in the stories we tell. Her hands show all she’s been through, and though we may no longer hold them, her fingerprints are everywhere. This is “her” hand and “mine.”

Losing a parent at any age is heartbreaking. But losing one who reached 100 feels like losing a piece of history, a living legacy who held the family together. Her absence is felt deeply – not just for the life she lived, but for the quiet power she held through the years.

So I feel both grief and gratitude: sorrow that she’s gone, but thankfulness for every moment we had. A life that long and full deserves mourning and celebration. Her body may have aged, but her spirit never will. That’s the truest legacy of all.