Mouning What Never Was

Almost exactly one year from when it started it ended.  My father died early Wednesday morning. 

We felt that the end was finally coming even though there had been numerous false sitings over the course of the last 4 months.  One thing is for sure, my father, in spite of his own desires, had constitution that would just not stop fighting.  A week ago Thursday he stopped eating and the following day he began to just stay in bed.  Finally on Tuesday things really started to deteriorate and for the very first time over this whole year he started to use heavy pain killers.  I got the call from the caregiver around 3:45 in the morning my time that she felt the time had come.  Two hours later it was confirmed.

My brothers and I mobilized with us coming from Maryland, New Mexico and Hawaii respectively so it took almost two days before we could all get there.  The funeral was held on Friday.  We had it planned quite some time ago.  It was bitterly cold.  It was only the immediate family and the close team of caregivers, hired and friends, that had worked with him and helped him through the year.

One of my brothers and I had met with the executors of his estate for 2 and half hours on Thursday.  They would be handling the vast majority of the work that is required to handle his estate.  There was only a bit of going through the personal property and deciding who wanted what.  You hear all kinds of stories of families getting very bitter over this part, but I was proud that my siblings and I were able to handle it all very quickly with almost no disagreements.  The estate settlement folks want to inventory all this stuff, so we could do anything but mark and pile it up because it will be a couple of weeks before the estate settlement people can get their approval from the probate court.

My father had a very fine career and had long list of people who knew him and wanted to know what had gone on.  His very best friend who was with him throughout this, understood where we were coming from and passed on the word that this was to be a very private family affair.  Because my father's relationship with his children was very different from his relations with the rest of the world.

See Dad never wanted to have children.  He was a person who for whatever reason in his growing up, had a very difficult time expressing his emotions.  There was one person who he loved without reservation and who loved him unconditionally.  And that was my mother.  It was only during the first crisis early last year that I began to piece together the threads of why our family was the way it way.  My Dad looked at that love as sacrosanct and literally wanted nothing to get in between it.  Children definitely get in the way.  But Mom wanted them and he was going to do whatever it took to make her happy.  But that doesn't mean that he truly ever got used to it.

My father really did very little with us as children.  We went on only three family vacations that ever remember.  My Dad loved to hunt and fish.  But that was nothing he would ever bring his children on.  He had this marvelous career.  But I only found out most of it when talking to his peers in collecting information for his obituary this year.

Although we had never been close, when I moved to New Mexico 20 years ago,  I made a decision that I was going to spend time with my parents regularly.  I was not going to really try and build a relationship.  My Mom always welcomed me and my Dad enjoyed the visits too but always made the comment that I was there to see Mom.  I would go four times a year usually.  As they aged I got more and more into their life.  After Mom died 7 years ago, I still visited him the same amount.

When we went into the crisis last year, there were times when we communicated more than we ever had.  I remember one time in February when he told me he loved me.  I cried for hours that night.  I couldn't remember him ever saying that to me.  He probably did at some point but I didn't remember it. 

I knew how angry and frustrated he was.  Losing his eyesight back in his 50's had robbed him of most of the things he loved.  When Mom was gone, so was that one person who he counted on for that unconditional acceptance.  For a person of great pride and accomplishment with very high standards for performance for himself as well as others, the whole aging deterioration process was a cruelty.  He was ready to go a long time ago but his own concern for others I think kept him attached.  He never could let go of a position that it was his duty to provide for and care for others. 

In the last few months he had expressed concern about his care arrangements.  My brothers and I worked on multiple alternatives.  But in the end, he really didn't want family to be involved.  He had always controlled his environment and he was going to do it to the moment of death...and his children were not the ones he was going to entrust with it.  Sorry but I took that pretty hard after the amount of time and effort I'd put in over this last year.

So no, I didn't want to see tens or maybe hundreds of mourners telling me how wonderful he was and what a great friend he was and telling me all the experiences they had with him.  Because that would have only reminded me of just how much of a relationship with my father I didn't have.  I needed to be alone and with my siblings for that.

I probably should put a balancing entry here.  My Dad in his own way did love his children.  And he was always there for them in there most serious time of need...Always. And I am incredibly grateful to him for bailing me out of bad situations and incredible generosity.  I am also very, very glad that his is no longer suffering.  And I'm not talking just about his illness this last year, because there was so much that he was not happy about his life.

But if you ask me if I'm mourning the loss of my Father, I will tell you no.  I'm mourning the loss of what I never had.