Day 45 Dad
Thirteen years ago today my dad died in my arms. I slept in the room with him his last
night. About 3 in the morning when his
breathing started getting ragged I crawled into bed with him and cradled him
for his last 4 hours alive. It was an
intense intimate experience, hands on with death and the absolute powerless
feeling that you are exposed to. He didn’t
have any words as he was knocked out by a little chemical the afternoon
before. He just didn’t regain
consciousness and slept the rest of his life away.
We were in Bellingham, WA, on the third floor of the medical
center in the death with dignity wing when it happened. I remember looking out the window at the
fresh snow that fell during the evening and I felt like I was the only person
on the planet. It looked and felt
barren. I was alone with my dad, more
alone than I ever felt. I laid on his
chest and sobbed and hugged him and rubbed him so he would warm up. I told him he was a good dad and that I
missed the opportunity to have been able to ever really know him. I cut a lock of his hair because I wanted
desperately not to lose all of him that morning.
Thirteen years is a long time to be without your dad. I never had grandparents so I’ve always felt
adrift in that wisdom seeking area. I do
miss him still and wish I had gotten to know him as an adult. I left home pretty young and after that it
was basically just visits here and there.
Nothing consistent. Never any
phone calls to say hey. Nothing like
that. It was the quintessential
father/son relationship of the 60’s. I’m
your dad and that should be enough.
Compared to the warhorse, it was. It could have been so much more but neither of
us were equipped with any knowledge of how to proceed. So we stayed related, awkwardly but found
some kind of familial love to snake through all the preordained crap. He was a good man, loyal, patriotic, a soldier
for our country that served in Viet Nam.
I know that he loved me even though he never said it clearly. Isn’t that enough?
1. I'm grateful for the life I got to share with my dad.2. I'm grateful my relationship with my son is so different that mine.
3. I'm grateful that I'm going to therapy.
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