Lately I have been mulling over the fact that there were a lot of things my dad said over the years that we’re extraordinarily hurtful.

Grief therapy has been helpful in that it has guided me through the process of grieving over a very complicated death.

Many people told me when my dad died that I should be grateful that he did not have a complicated death – and that he died peacefully, he was ready, and tired.

So here’s the thing – his death was complicated for me.  Very complicated.  We loved each other very much – but we had a very prickly relationship.  We got along well for the most part in email.  He did not like the telephone, something I do happen to like.  He was not a person to text, and he has never been a person that liked a lot of people around so that meant when our entire family got together he wasn’t always happy to have us all around.  He tolerated it for mom’s sake.

And when we did see each other nine times out of 10 something would be said, feelings would get hurt, and we would be mad each other all over again.  This was a cycle of ours that repeated itself over and over for years.

I didn’t get a chance to really sit down with him and hash things out. To be honest I’m not sure if we would’ve had the opportunity to have that conversation – in my fantasy brain we would sit down and come to an understanding, a resolution of sorts, realized how much we love each other and,  been OK with how things are.

That didn’t happen.

What happened instead was my last interaction with my father was sitting in a community room at the nursing facility that he was that.  He was not happy that he was there – he felt that we were just shoving him away, but the reality was we needed help taking care of him and this was the best place for him to be – and we were all there with him loving him through the process of hospice.  As I was sitting there talking to my father we were exchanging words and he said “Am I your dad ”  I was taken aback – and I looked at him and said, “of course you’re my dad, even my dad for 52 years.”  He looked like he didn’t quite believe me  but nodded all the same.  I hugged him and give him a kiss and told him I would see him soon – knowing in my heart I probably wasn’t going to come back to this place to see him again.

There I said it.

I knew I wasn’t going to come back and see him again.  Maybe he knew that too..