I Miss My Dad


My father passed away yesterday morning. He was 74, and had very bad diabetes. I guess I should be happy he made it this far. He was a good man. Had a good heart. Was kind and generous. But my images of him are so distorted.

You see, when I was 16 my parents divorced. It was a terrible tragedy that my father should divorce my mother at an age when sons and fathers already don't see eye to eye. It was a bitter divorce, and I harbored a lot on anger towards him for my percieved treatment of my mother. My parents had been fighting off and on for a few years, and I was glad to see him go, and the conflict end, even though my world was coming apart by him leaving. I didn't speak to him for nearly 3 years after the divorce. Only later in college, at the insistence of my girlfriend (now my wife of 12 years) that I reconciled with him. It was slow at first, but as I grew older and became a married father myself, only then did I realize how truley complicated relationships are and how divorce is rarely one person's fault alone. It took me roughly 10 years to get to that point. I remember him sending me a framed photo of he and I and my baby daughter, all smiling and looking content. I cried when I saw it. It was something I had been missing for a long time.

But even in reconciliation, things were not perfect. My father remarried, to a woman who for a multitude of reasons, namely that she wasn't my mother, annoyed me. I often avoided seeing them. I would fly into town on business, and not tell them I was coming, so I didn't have to "waste my time." I feel like such a horrible son. I patched up the tattered pieces of a father and son relationship, only to let it atrophy because I was too stuck up and busy to spend an hour with my father and his wife. I let myself find other excuses, and managed to exclude him from the many aspects of my life.

And now he's gone.

I thought a lifetime of missed opportunities between us would be put to rest once and for all. That the finality of it would have a comforting peace. But like two stubborn people on a see-saw, neither moving, when one is suddenly gone, all that pain and frustration tumbles down to the heavier side. I never imagined this loss would hurt so badly. That my regret would amount to so much sadness and heartfelt pain. That the man, who growing up, never failed to hug me and tell me he loved me and was proud of every little thing I did­would be gone, and I would feel so ashamed for not spending enough time with him, and including him in my life.

My dad was a great man. He never enjoyed a life as richly as he deserved. But he loved unselfishly. Expecting nothing in return. He gave what he could, and that was always enough. He helped so many people that simply needed a friend. In death, I wish I had been a better friend to him. This is my lasting regret.

I miss you dad. I hope you know how much I love you.

Jamie
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