In a week, it will be father's day, but today it is already that for me. My dad died on this day 7 years ago. It was a dreadful day. Since then, I don't know how to sum it up or speak about it. I think I don't know how I feel about it at all.
I had spent the night before he died with him in the hospital. There were words exchanged that night that are hard to grasp. I vaguely recall them only because they are too painful to recall. It was comforting and heart breaking at the same time. You see I spent most of his last year alive with him almost daily. The cancer that took his life was a pain to watch ravage him, but I like to think that I was there to help him when he needed mostly taking him to the dialysis clinic or the occasional hospital visit. On those rides to the doctor's office, he subtly hinted that he knew that he was dying. I don't think I paid much heed to them until he explicitly told me he was going to die soon. Then I felt scared.
To this day, I still wonder if I had been as caring for him in his last days as I could've been.
When I got home from the hospital on the day he died, I set about mowing the lawn. It was just me and my youger brother. The call came sometime after noon. My brother came out and said we should get to the hospital. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to not have a father.
My actions were queer and deliberate. I stopped mowing, went inside, and took a shower. I dreaded going. I wished it hadn't have happened, so I took a shower. I don't know why.
We rode to the hospital in silence. Neither one of us wanting to say it. I did not see my father alive again.
Yet, he still lives in me. I am my father's son or at least as close to being the type of person he had wanted me to be. If I could be half the man my father was then I can feel that I am much.
I will always remember the time together we shared during that last year of his life.
I remember the final night with him in the hospital. You know we cried together that night. He told me to love my mom and take care of her, to love my brothers and respect them, to love myself and be proud, and to love my family for they are what's best about the world.
For a better reminiscence, see my brother's entry,
I had spent the night before he died with him in the hospital. There were words exchanged that night that are hard to grasp. I vaguely recall them only because they are too painful to recall. It was comforting and heart breaking at the same time. You see I spent most of his last year alive with him almost daily. The cancer that took his life was a pain to watch ravage him, but I like to think that I was there to help him when he needed mostly taking him to the dialysis clinic or the occasional hospital visit. On those rides to the doctor's office, he subtly hinted that he knew that he was dying. I don't think I paid much heed to them until he explicitly told me he was going to die soon. Then I felt scared.
To this day, I still wonder if I had been as caring for him in his last days as I could've been.
When I got home from the hospital on the day he died, I set about mowing the lawn. It was just me and my youger brother. The call came sometime after noon. My brother came out and said we should get to the hospital. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to not have a father.
My actions were queer and deliberate. I stopped mowing, went inside, and took a shower. I dreaded going. I wished it hadn't have happened, so I took a shower. I don't know why.
We rode to the hospital in silence. Neither one of us wanting to say it. I did not see my father alive again.
Yet, he still lives in me. I am my father's son or at least as close to being the type of person he had wanted me to be. If I could be half the man my father was then I can feel that I am much.
I will always remember the time together we shared during that last year of his life.
I remember the final night with him in the hospital. You know we cried together that night. He told me to love my mom and take care of her, to love my brothers and respect them, to love myself and be proud, and to love my family for they are what's best about the world.
For a better reminiscence, see my brother's entry,
Labels: "la familia", dad
But thanks for sharing.....