My dad has died.
I'd never really thought about what it would be like to lose someone close to me.
I sat with him whilst he was dying, and know that he has gone, but to me it's like he has disappeared somewhere. I half expect him to turn up at our house asking where all his stuff in his flat has gone.
Going into his flat was hard, I felt like I was removing him from his space, undoing the way he liked things. The flat was left by him in a state that I think he thought he would be returning to, like he'd been plucked from his environment and it was waiting for his return.
To be honest, my dad and I hadn't really been getting on recently. He was a very selfish person, he talked about himself and wasn't really interested in other people. He liked what he liked and did what he wanted to do with no thought for other people.
Being around him hurt my soul; I find it hard being around these type of people. I consider myself to be a caring, kind person and don't understand people that aren't like that. Being around my dad would mean me being that better person, having to put my feelings aside. Dad certainly wasn't going to change or have moments of self-reflection, so for my mental health I kept my distance from him, and he didn't seem to be bothered, so I barely saw him for the last 6 months of his life.
Was this wasted time? This is the feeling I've been sitting on. Obviously, there are fond memories and things I miss about him. The nicknames he gave the kids, just his physical presence. I can't get my head around the fact that I'm never going to see him again, even though I didn't want to see him, which I know is a massive contradiction.
I'm glad I was there for him in his last few days, making sure he was comfy and getting the care he needed, I left the hospital in the evening making sure I gave him a proper meaningful goodbye in case it was the last, even though he hadn't opened his eyes for days and didn't know I was there.
My Dad’s wish was to have a direct cremation, so we are going to honour him with a memorial tree and bury his ashes underneath it.
If you have read any of my previous posts you will know that my relationship with my mum and sister is non-existent, and I can't see it changing in the future. I would have to forgive them for their toxic abusive behaviour, and they would have to believe that I am a worthwhile person to have in their life.
The big question is are we wasting what time we have? I can't help thinking that if I'd known I had so little time left with my dad, would I have done things differently?
Are some relationships so broken that they can never be fixed? Which means a life without that person.
Do people really understand how short life is? No one really knows how long we have left. Is a stupid argument or disagreement that important in the scheme of things? We have all have a finite chunk of life left, and the choice is either to try and fix it now and risk getting hurt yet again, or to cut our loses and walk away? Because when it comes to the end, there will be no point in regretting what has been missed, and wanting to go back and try it all again, because it will be too late to fix things by then.
I really wanted to talk to my Mum when Dad died, just to let her know and get the comfort than only a parent can provide, but I know how she would have reacted, probably the same way as when her own mum died - asking why she was being told? And what it had to do with her? No-one wished me symphony, or asked me how I was getting on after my Dad died, which is one of the (many) reasons I left my job. I needed a Mum at this point, like many other previous times in my life and every time she had stepped away and let me down, so I decided it was better not to try to contact her again.
My mum is missing out on three beautiful grandchildren, children grow and change so fast, she is never going to get that time back. Is she that broken that she doesn't have these thoughts? They are her flesh and blood, the next generation. They will have no memories of her, she will be forgotten.
Both my parents were difficult to live with, but the fundamental difference between my Mum and my Dad, was that although my Dad and I had our differences, there was still a deep bond between us, which is why I was there at the end when he needed me. My Mum has proved many times that she does not care about anyone other than herself and she broke that bond between us years ago.
Maybe my mum is happy not having me in her life, and I have got used to not having her in my life so I should accept that this is how it will be and deal with what happens when it happens.
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