My dad was responsible for the first big blow of my life. When my parents divorced, there was no point a to b, he just disappeared and my mom took over everything. There were patches in my life where my dad would reappear and want to be dad. Not very many, and they weren't very bright. The time he took us to his ranch to stay with him, he spent the majority of the time convincing my sister and I that my mom was too crazy to properly take care of us. After all these years, I'm not sure if it was a misled attempt to take care of us, or a vindictive move. Given everything that was going on with my mom, I'd like to think it was the misled attempt. I'm a little hazy on this, but I'm pretty sure he didn't actually have permission to take us. The point is, all I remember from that is him trying to poison me against my mom. Then there was the one summer I went to go see him in Ohio. I don't remember much time spent with him. I remember a lot of time running around with my cousins, an entirely inappropriate relationship with a 19 year old for a 13 year old and my first cigarette, but not my dad during that trip. After that, there was about a year or two of infrequent drives out to truck stops for dinner with him. That was the sum of it. Some time in my fifteenth year of living, he just dropped off the face of the planet. My mom would call him and tell him about suicide attempts and how badly things were really going for me, and there would be nothing in response. Nothing in response to the news that I had a beautiful little boy when I was 24. There was one Christmas where gifts appeared out of nowhere when Evan was 2 I think. And that in summation was my relationship with my dad after the divorce.
In hindsight, I realize that gift probably came with the news of his cancer. He didn't share that information with us, but as far as time lines go, it seems about right. To be completely honest, I'm not sure when it came into my sphere of knowledge that he had cancer. I'm sure my sister knew before I did and probably didn't think to share it. She had forgiven him and was talking to him again. After everything, I thought I had declared him dead in my head. If there's anything I inherited from my dad, it's this stubborn streak a mile wide.
Then the news came that he was dying. There was no more radiation and no more chemo that could be done without doing more harm than good to him. It had moved into his brain.
Turns out the funny thing about declaring someone dead in your head and someone actually dying is that there is a huge difference. In all honesty, I was still angry about everything. I debated going to see him, not wanting his desire to see me to be a deathbed making amends. I did end up going to see him, because I thought he should meet this little man that was so much like him in looks and personality that I had had. I'm glad I did. I think I would have regretted it to my own dying day if I hadn't. It was harder than I expected. The man who, despite everything he had done, was still my daddy. When I was tiny he was the strongest person I knew and he could fight the world for me. Now he was so frail that it felt like you could break him if you hugged him too hard. He couldn't eat. His mental facilities were decaying as the cancer ate through them. If you've ever been that physically close to someone dying of cancer, you know what I mean. Even with everything that has happened in my life since, I think that was the most heartbreaking moment of my entire life to date.
The moment I will never forget from that trip is when I was leaving and my dad cried as I was leaving. I had never in my life seen my dad cry. Not once. That was the moment when all the years of silence, bitterness and anger came crashing down on me. How much waste there was in them. He was crying, because he'd never see his daughter again. As a parent myself, that would be the most gut wrenching pain in world.
In the end, my dad may not have been perfect, but there was never a lack of love. Maybe he just didn't know how to reach out, just like I didn't know how to reach out. I still have issues with forgiveness. Maybe it's part of that stubborn streak I inherited from him. He wasn't perfect, but neither was I. If there is anything I have learned from it all though, it's to never let go of the ones you love. Never let space and anger come between you like my dad and I did. Because you never know when there isn't going to be anymore time. The true test with my kids has yet to come, I know, but I'd like to think I'm ready for the challenge and I've evolved enough to get there.
Side note: Shortly after my dad passed away, I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. I think to this day that she has a little bit of my dad's spirit in her and maybe she's my second chance.
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