I haven’t spoken to my dad in six – going on seven years.
We didn’t leave things in a good place. He left me no choice. He made it that way.
Things always ended badly with him.
Since then I have forgiven him. But I cannot and will not ever forget all the things he did to bring us to the place. The wounds are too deep. The cuts are too severe. The scars on my soul a lifetime reminder of what he did.
And then Friday all call came. My dad’s eldest sister called me. She need my older brother’s phone number because the one she had was not working. She then told me my father had had a heart attack and was being taken to the hospital. I gave her my brother’s new number and thanked her for letting me know and asked her to keep me posted.
I had not spoken to her in about the same amount of time as my father. I’m not sure she would have called me had she not needed my brother’s number. But she did and I’ll leave it at that.
What I did not expect was the way I would feel once I hung up the phone.
I broke down sobbing. What if? What if my dad dies and the last words we said to each other were six years ago?
That flash of guilt lasted only briefly. It switched over to concern. Basic concern over the man I know as my father. I had no idea what hospital he would be at. He is out in Montana in the far northwestern area. So I called the closest one to his residence and they patched me through to the one he was actually at.
I told the nurse who I was and that I did not need to speak to him only that I wanted to know if he was there and if he was stable. She said yes and that they were running tests.
I thanked her and then hung up.
My sister kept me posted throughout the day. As it turns out, he had calcium build up which presented as a heart attack. They put him on meds, kept him overnight for observation and sent him home the next day. So apparently he is fine.
I haven’t spoken to him. I don’t plan to. I know he is okay and that is fine.
Perhaps I sound cold to you. You have to understand where I’ve been and what he put my mom and me through to get why I’m just fine without him in my life. I tried more than any person should try. I did everything I could and still it was never good enough. Sometimes you have to let go. You have to consider the well being of yourself, your own family and put that before everything else. I don’t believe God intends for us to be doormats or punching bags.
Still, I realize I deep down do love my dad and I kind of always knew that. This ordeal reopened old wounds and old reminders long since pushed aside. But it seems all those fond memories I have are shrouded in fog…edged out by the darkness he carries with him that tends to consume anyone and everyone in his vicinity.
I realized that no matter how much I may care about him as my dad, he is now just some old man with whom I share DNA.
I’m okay with that.