When you realize your parents are just normal people too

This is partly a vent and partly seeking thoughts of other people who’ve gone through similar experiences or maybe just have more emotional maturity than me lol.

About two and half years ago, my younger brother lost a brief battle with cancer and Jesus called him home. He had medical problems all his life. And then there was cancer. I had tried counseling after, but couldn’t really process what had happened. A year ago I started again and in the past two months finally began to feel like I’m making progress—by going backwards. I’ve begun to unpack things that I hadn’t ever talked about. Both with my counselor and my wife.

I love my parents. They set a remarkable example of strength for me growing up. But I’ve also begun to realize, seemingly for the first time, that they didn’t get everything right. This isn’t a post to bash parents. But an acknowledgement. Sometimes things happen that hurt you in ways you don’t understand when you’re a kid. It’s not your fault. It’s not even necessarily your parents’ fault. Sometimes life’s just hard.

My mom spent so much time in the hospital looking after my brother. My older brother was at college when I was in high school. So much of that time, it was just my dad and I at home. And I saw how beaten down he was. How he was tired in a way that sleep can’t fix. Something I’ve seen in myself at times. But I didn’t think about it then. I didn’t know how much that affected me. Don’t be a burden. Handle things on my own. Don’t add to the stress.

Now, my younger brother is gone. I don’t live at home. Hours away, in fact. But I hear that same weight when I call home. My mom doesn’t talk much, even when I visit. They go through the motions of life. And I want to fix it. But I can’t. And I see now that that’s always been the case. That I expected myself to fix things that I couldn’t fix. I carried things I wasn’t meant to carry. So how do I care without trying to solve everything? I’m curious if others here have gone through this. Realizing your parents are just like you—trying to do the best we can in a difficult world. They’re not perfect. I want to help them, but I’m only just now starting to get the help for myself that I’ve needed. So I don’t have answers. And in one sense, that’s relieving. But in another, it still feels like I need to fix things.

If you read all this way, thanks for listening and if you have thoughts, it’s all welcome :)