Before you give me condolences, please take time to read this. Today is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 84. He died in July 2012, or as I like to call it "The Year From Hell". I. Still not sure how I feel about his death. I'm mostly pissed off at him and the Universe that it happened so quickly after Jim (my husband) died. Jim died on Monday. Dad fell down the weekend after and they discovered prostate cancer that had metastasized. Still reeling in shock from Jim's death, I immediately booked a flight to see him; my best friend and my brother went with me as support. I'm grateful I went, I was able to be loving with him and have no regrets. I left thinking he'd be fine. A week later he was in hospice and died shortly after. I don't even know if I have any grief about his death. He had multiple health problems and didn't take care of himself properly. My brother and I were surprised he hadn't died sooner. My brother said "Who would have thought Jim would die before Dad". Which may seem insensitive, but we have an odd sense of humor and it made sense to me.
My father was an alcoholic. So like most children of alcoholics, my relationship with him had many contradictory feelings. I loved him, I hated him. I was desperate for his approval and rebelled against him at the same time. I didn't want to be anything like him, but I was, down to the alcoholism. I've spent years in sobriety untangling the web of feelings and the legacy he gave me. There was a period of 5 years where I didn't talk to him - it was just too toxic for me. But after I moved to Moab, he contacted me and we were able to have a relationship. But it was never comfortable or easy. My Dad could talk to almost anyone and be interesting and personable. But with his family, he was awkward and it was difficult to talk to him, especially after he stopped being critical. Over the years I was able to see how much his mother had damaged him, how everything he didn't like about himself he saw in me and criticized. I realized I would never get the love and approval from him that I had so desperately wanted as a child, as an adult. I also saw how he did love me and did the best he knew how. How along with the damage he gave me, he gave me so many gifts; my intelligence, my curiosity, my sensitivity (that one is a mixed blessing). Mostly I was able to see how he had never healed from his childhood and became grateful that I was given a path where I had. I was able to give him love, instead of trying to get his love. Every once in awhile, I would say something to him, joke about something I had learned about myself. I could see or hear his relief and he would say "You got that from me". In my accepting myself, I was able to help him accept himself a little more.
I wonder - if his death wasn't mixed in with all my other losses at that time; my husband and my dog; what would my feelings be about his death? Truthfully, I don't really miss him. I didn't see or talk to him very much and when I did, it wasn't easy. I'm grateful that for many years I was able to give him love with no expectations and heal not only him, but myself. I hope he's in a place where he's found peace and love for himself. I feel some guilt about not missing him, What will you all think? Am I a horrible daughter, a horrible person? But I have to be honest, because I know some of you will relate. And here I am at 56 years old, still discovering the wounds he left in me and doing my best to heal them. I don't blame him, I know he was wounded too. I guess I don't miss him because every single day, I have to deal with what he left me with, good and bad.
So Happy Birthday Dad. I'm grateful for everything you gave me, good and bad, because I am who I am today because of you. I hope you are in a place of love, being able to be loved and feel it, to give love because you overflow with it. I hope you are in a place of peace, that your soul has been healed. I love you Dad.
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