LESSONS

I would never presume that my brand of suffering is worse than somebody else's. My problems are not any more upsetting, my worries are not any more consuming. It's all just different.



However; as I go through this phase of life, where I am dealing with the imminent death of my dad; I am struck with the unique nature of my grief - unique in that it's not the standard way one would hope to get to experience something like this. You know, if you have to watch your dad die, there are things that would make it a little more bearable.



I would HOPE to experience the death of a parent with the other parent by my side. I would HOPE to have the distraction of comforting that other parent, guiding that other parent, helping that other parent with decisions. I would HOPE that other parent would be comforting me. And I would HOPE to have the cushion of thousands of memories with my dying parent to fall into once he has gone. None of these things is happening for me and my siblings. And I am a little angry about it. I feel cheated. I feel REALLY cheated. They have been divorced over thirty years and that divorce still leaves its ugly stain on our hearts. That divorce has even cheated me out of a healthy grieving process. That divorce has scarred each of us four kids in different ways.



Instead of getting to comfort our other parent, we have to placate her and make excuses. We have to withstand her accusations and verbal attacks. We have to constantly reassure her of our loyalty and love. We are exhausting ourselves dealing with one parent's jealousy and resentment while we are preparing to bury the other.



There is a dimension to this process, this process of saying good bye, that simply should not be there. There is a dimension to this process, for my siblings and me, that, were it to be alleviated,
would lighten our loads just a little.



I have no delusions about the kind of dad he was. He was absent. Plain and simple. Once the divorce occurred he quickly saw the opportunity to cut and run and free himself from the business of parenting. I have no happy memories of him. But I have no unhappy memories of him. He simply was the distant parent who showed up occasionally but always sent child support and NEVER said a bad thing about our mother.



HE NEVER SAID A BAD THING ABOUT OUR MOTHER TO HIS CHILDREN.



And if nothing else, I will forever be thankful to him for that.


And I will always love him, because he is still my dad.


And now he is in the end stages of cancer. And the right thing to do is be there and minister to him and love him. Simply love him. My children are watching, and I WILL NOT allow them to see me turn my back on a parent, regardless of the past. But even if my children were not involved in this, I would be there as much as I can.



Because it is the right thing to do.



And I don't understand why that is so hard for somebody to see. I cannot comprehend why it is so hard to see that doing the right thing is not a betrayal.



An that is why my grief is a unique kind of grief from what I wish it could be. Because I am preparing to say goodbye to a father I never really knew. And saying goodbye to him is like saying goodbye to hope, hope that he would eventually, someday, have decided that he wanted to know me and my family. Along with that, I am enduring a constant pull and strain on my emotions by a jealous and insecure mother who cannot understand why I need to minister to this dying man and somehow make peace with what my life with him has been like - and what my life with him SHOULD have been like.



Death. It is a part of life. And like every other part of life, I am trying to learn from it. I am learning from the dignity my dad is showing. I am learning from the utter, tireless devotion my stepmother is showing to him. I am learning from the selfless behavior of my children over the past week. I am learning from the utter, tireless devotion my husband has shown me over the past week.

I am learning that it's ok to accept help from other families. I am learning that it's ok to let the tears fall when they creep up on me at the oddest times. I am learning that it is not my job to know what will happen tomorrow; and so I must not worry about it. I am learning that it is ok for my prayer to simply be "Please God..." when my mind and heart simply cannot find the words. Because I know He will fill in the blanks.

Death is full of lessons. Just like life.

Life.

It does indeed go on.