Why'd they both have to go?

This is a question I’ve wrestled with so much over the past year. And honestly, I’m still struggling to process all the emotions around it.

Everyone knows they’ll lose their parents someday—it’s just part of life. As we get older, they get older, and eventually, we lose them. The circle of life, right? But no one expects to lose their parents when they’re still in their prime (mom, for sure; dad was... questionably in his prime, lol). They were only 50 and 51. Dad was retired and seemed ready to focus on getting healthy again. And mom? She was an absolute powerhouse. She’d be up at 4:30 a.m. for workouts, finished her associate’s degree in her late 40s, and landed a remote job with a law firm. She was super active in her church and in all of our lives. We never saw it coming.

After we lost mom, we used to joke that it was dad’s fault—he just couldn’t be without her, so he selfishly had to take her too. And honestly? Everyone thinks it’s true. If the roles were reversed, dad wouldn’t have lasted a year without mom. Not even a chance.

My parents would’ve celebrated 33 years together this past December—on 12/21, my youngest sister’s birthday. They met when they were 20 and 21, and from what I’ve heard (versions of the story vary), it was a whirlwind. They met, got pregnant with me two weeks later, and were married four months before I was born. I’m sure people thought they were absolutely nuts. But dad’s mom always said he came home the night he met her and told her, “I’m going to marry that girl.” And he did. And over 30 years together, they built an incredible life.

By December 1995, they had three kids. Dad was stationed in California when I was born, but he left the military soon after. Then, with three kids and a wife, he re-enlisted. I don’t remember exactly when, but I’m sure it wasn’t long—it’s what he felt he had to do. With 3 kids and a wife, I’m sure it seemed the most stable career choice.

When I was 10, we started moving a lot. It was the only way for dad to advance in his career. By then, mom had stopped working and was fully a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom. In eight years, we moved to five different states. Not once did I hear mom complain. She never seemed overwhelmed or unimpressed with the lifestyle, even though I can’t imagine how stressful it must’ve been. She was completely dedicated to dad and his career, and she made it work.

Dad finally retired in 2015. At that point, they were living separately—mom in Texas, dad in Tennessee—because they didn’t want my youngest sister to have to change schools for her senior year. So dad took the dogs and rented a house in Tennessee, while mom stayed in Texas. I’m sure it was hard for them, but they didn’t complain. They had a plan, stuck to the timeline, and made it work. After Tay graduated, they moved back to their house in Tennessee, and a few years later, they returned to Kentucky. They were the last to come back “home.”

After they moved back, family weekends were just a thing. We had dinners or lunches there at least once a weekend. Dad even built a volleyball court and put up a basketball hoop so we’d have things to do when we visited. Movie nights, cookouts, family parties—you name it, it happened there. We were all always over there in some various capacity doing random things. But after dad died, the house never felt the same.

Mom never panicked when big things happened. She always knew she’d outlive dad—she was the healthiest person I’ve ever known. She had her lists, stayed organized, and held everything together. Even after dad passed, she never let us see how much she was struggling. But when she got sick and couldn’t keep up her normal routine, the cracks started to show.

We didn’t even have three months between losing dad and finding out mom had cancer. I can’t imagine what it felt like for her. Your husband is gone, and now you have a terminal illness too. She tried to stay positive through her diagnosis and treatment, but at night, when she was exhausted from chemo and too weak to eat, you could see the weight of it all. She never got the chance to heal from losing her soulmate—she went straight from grieving to fighting for her life.

I want to be so angry about it. My mom was the best person I knew, and I’m not just saying that because she was my mom. She would’ve done anything for anyone. Why did she deserve this?

These questions haunt me.

Why us?

Why both of them?

Why so young?

I wish someone could give me an answer. My parents believed in God and that they’d be reunited with their creator when they died. But mom also believed that in heaven, you don’t recognize anyone—you’re just there to serve your creator. It breaks my heart to think that even while she was dying, she didn’t believe she’d see dad again.

I’ll probably be asking myself these questions forever. The only thing I know for sure is that dad wouldn’t have made it a year without mom. Maybe losing her was inevitable, and whatever higher power exists took dad first so he wouldn’t have to suffer through it. That thought doesn’t make it easier for those of us left behind, but I try to focus on what I had. I got 30 years with them. Some people don’t even get that.

Still, I’m a 32 year old “adult”, and I want to call her every single day. She’s been gone for a year and a half. Dad will never help me with another project. He’ll never pull up to my house blaring Kid Rock. The bookshelves we finished right before he died? They’ll always be the last thing we did together.

I want to believe my parents’ mission here was complete. They raised three independent, capable daughters and taught us everything they knew. I want to believe there’s a purpose to their loss. I want to believe they’re together, happy, healthy, and free, watching over us.

I’ll never fully understand why they both had to leave, but I do know this: they were soulmates who loved each other deeply. And out of that love came so many good things.