The first 33 years of my life with my father saw a few moments of joy and happiness as we did things together that made me who I am today and many more moments of hell - that also made me the man I became.
Thank you for sharing this story. You provide an important witness through your vulnerability: we fathers are often not the people we hope to be. But your father's apology, met by your understanding, forgiveness, and joyful reconciliation, led to a truly happy and honorable ending.
A few tears, catches of breath, an occasional smile...thank you for writing these memories for all your readers. I've learned living takes a lit of courage, loving even more. Seems your dad's well of courage never ran dry...and he bequeathed as much of that same kind of courage he could to you.
The son of John Bridgers, one of the "major characters" in my Pacific War quadrilogy, once told me his father "raised four children to think for themselves, a decision he later regretted."
I had a fraught relationship with my parents as well, and I too still deal with a hair-trigger temper, in part because of that. My dad also gave me a love of aviation which still stands, but I learned later that my destiny wasn't to become a professional pilot but a trainer of dolphins and sea lions (!) he came around to this very unusual career path, after seeing how I was floundering, directionless, in college after I stopped flight training. (Good thing I did that too--had I graduated in 1981 as planned as a 200-hour pilot with a Commercial rating, I would have run into the Reagan recession and Braniff International going bankrupt, throwing thousands of very well qualified pilots into an already saturated market).
Mine kept pushing college, and I kept pushing back, but after three years as a trainer with no college degree competing with colleagues with bachelor's and even Master's degrees for positions in major metropolitan aquariums, I got the hint, returned to college in 1991 focused and determined, and graduated in 1998 with a doctorate (Doctor of Veterinary Medicine), my only college degree.
His final lesson was teaching me what not to do with emotional pain. He basically drank and smoked himself to death. My dad didn't live long enough to even see me re-enter college; he died of cancer and complications from alcoholism and smoking at age 63.
This really touched my heart. Fathers and sons have unique relationships, I think. So do fathers and daughters. Mine told me that he loved me for the first time in my life when I was forty. But he showed me in countless other ways. I think it was the possibility of tears that stopped him all that time!
I told my daddy I loved him in the hospital the week before he died. He said I don’t deserve it. Many of us don’t but family gives it or withholds it in a million different says. Sorting through that gives therapists, artists, musicians, and all of us tasks for a lifetime.
Very moving, especially today. Relations with fathers can be so fraught. I guess we are always living with two generations back. Thank you for letting us in on your life.
It very definitely is. The child grows up in the dysfunctional situation, thinks that is normal and passes it on to their children. I can trace the dysfunction in my family to the Civil War and the ptsd all the men who became my great grandfathers brought back from the war.
Very moving, Tom. It is wonderful that there was a reconciliation with your father that allowed you to move on and to wave him goodbye with the gifts of understanding, caring, and release from the crushing demands of a protracted passing.
Thanks for sharing this Tom. Very happy your father recognized what he had done and apologized for it all. It takes an amazing person to do that. I lost my mother when I was 13 and my father when I was 15. I’m always intrigued by other peoples stories and the lifelong damage inflicted by their parents.
I'm so happy for you Tom, that you were able to have a good experience ad understanding with your father and to ensure his wishes at the end. You can live peacefully with that. There are some things in life that we need to make known. I wear a necklace for that purpose. It says do not resuscitate. This way none of my grand children need to be the one to say pull the plug, it's my life and my decision.
When Jurate was in her final weeks, things got really bad because she had (as she did with too many things as it all worked out) not signed the DNR my lawyer gave her. I had told the caregivers she was DNR (it was a condition of getting help through home hospice), and she told them too. Then Big Sis came down, and the day Jurate was supposed to depart, Big Sis (A committed conservative Catholic) declared she was not DNR and had her taken to the hospital, intubated and the works. She and I had a screaming fit in the hospital hallway when I got over there and found what had been done. She could do this because one other thing Jurate hadn't done until she finally decided to do so when it was too late to avoid intervention by her sisters, was for us to officially marry so I could take care of this stuff. Fortunately, the doctors there managed to convince Big Sis that if there was another attempted intervention, Jurate would likely end up a vegetable. So she signed a DNR, Jurate went back to the hospice, and passed 10 days later.
Anyone reading this should take it as the example you don't want to go through and take steps to insure it doesn't happen to you.
Correct Tom, the necklace or bracelet lets medics, doctors and nurses know; but jewelry can be removed, so I also signed a DNR with Kaiser my insurer, and have let each of my grandchildren know these are my wishes.
My Dad died at age 45. I was 25 then at that was my first experience with the death of someone I truly loved.
I hate funerals, or "celebrations of life". I prefer grieving alone with no public spectacle. So when my second and truly beloved husband died, I had his remains cremated, did not keep the ashes and planned no ceremonies. Also as a non-theist (as was my husband), why did we need to have a funeral service? My mother, who was still alive and living with me, insisted on a service. My mother was so concerned about what would people think, that I gave in and paid for a church service and party.
This was followed in quick succession (2 weeks and 4 months) by the death of my oldest and middle daughters. I paid for my oldest daughter's cremation and attended the celebration of life.
I swore that when I died it would be with no pomp and circumstance. So I have made it very ,very clear that I will not pay for any service for myself. I've already prepaid for my own cremation and informed all relatives that when I'm dead I'm dead, get over it.
As with all my other beliefs and decisions I've told them, this is my personal desire and has nothing to do with them or anyone else. They can do whatever they want with their own corpses, and I certainly won't come back to haunt them.
A good tribute. And you did the right thing.
I did. Thanks.
Thank you for sharing this story. You provide an important witness through your vulnerability: we fathers are often not the people we hope to be. But your father's apology, met by your understanding, forgiveness, and joyful reconciliation, led to a truly happy and honorable ending.
Sometimes apologies are too late, or the recipient can’t or won’t hear. Double tragedy. Good on you TC
A few tears, catches of breath, an occasional smile...thank you for writing these memories for all your readers. I've learned living takes a lit of courage, loving even more. Seems your dad's well of courage never ran dry...and he bequeathed as much of that same kind of courage he could to you.
The son of John Bridgers, one of the "major characters" in my Pacific War quadrilogy, once told me his father "raised four children to think for themselves, a decision he later regretted."
Laughed at this one!
I can relate!
For some reason, the text on the computer screen became blurry as I kept reading.
Love and forgiveness are the most valuable currency we ever have access to. What a powerful gift he left you.
I had a fraught relationship with my parents as well, and I too still deal with a hair-trigger temper, in part because of that. My dad also gave me a love of aviation which still stands, but I learned later that my destiny wasn't to become a professional pilot but a trainer of dolphins and sea lions (!) he came around to this very unusual career path, after seeing how I was floundering, directionless, in college after I stopped flight training. (Good thing I did that too--had I graduated in 1981 as planned as a 200-hour pilot with a Commercial rating, I would have run into the Reagan recession and Braniff International going bankrupt, throwing thousands of very well qualified pilots into an already saturated market).
Mine kept pushing college, and I kept pushing back, but after three years as a trainer with no college degree competing with colleagues with bachelor's and even Master's degrees for positions in major metropolitan aquariums, I got the hint, returned to college in 1991 focused and determined, and graduated in 1998 with a doctorate (Doctor of Veterinary Medicine), my only college degree.
His final lesson was teaching me what not to do with emotional pain. He basically drank and smoked himself to death. My dad didn't live long enough to even see me re-enter college; he died of cancer and complications from alcoholism and smoking at age 63.
A lesson of what not to do is an important one, one that many fail to heed..
This really touched my heart. Fathers and sons have unique relationships, I think. So do fathers and daughters. Mine told me that he loved me for the first time in my life when I was forty. But he showed me in countless other ways. I think it was the possibility of tears that stopped him all that time!
I told my daddy I loved him in the hospital the week before he died. He said I don’t deserve it. Many of us don’t but family gives it or withholds it in a million different says. Sorting through that gives therapists, artists, musicians, and all of us tasks for a lifetime.
It certainly does!
Heartfelt Tom. Family can be the roughest. Glad you had a re-connection with your father
Post a picture of a P51 Mustang model you’ve done I’m confident you have one
How about a few? :-)
And we're just talking completed models from one company (Eduard)!
I laughed out loud.
This is a wonderful piece, thank you.
Very moving, especially today. Relations with fathers can be so fraught. I guess we are always living with two generations back. Thank you for letting us in on your life.
Yes, generational trauma is actually a thing.
It very definitely is. The child grows up in the dysfunctional situation, thinks that is normal and passes it on to their children. I can trace the dysfunction in my family to the Civil War and the ptsd all the men who became my great grandfathers brought back from the war.
Ditto.
Two generations back, excellent ooint
So happy you had this chance to reconcile and enjoy each other for a decade. What a gift!
Lovely tale, Tom. Glad you & dad made amends. Life is far too short.
Very moving, Tom. It is wonderful that there was a reconciliation with your father that allowed you to move on and to wave him goodbye with the gifts of understanding, caring, and release from the crushing demands of a protracted passing.
Thanks for sharing this Tom. Very happy your father recognized what he had done and apologized for it all. It takes an amazing person to do that. I lost my mother when I was 13 and my father when I was 15. I’m always intrigued by other peoples stories and the lifelong damage inflicted by their parents.
Especially on this, Father's Day, I wish you peace.
I'm so happy for you Tom, that you were able to have a good experience ad understanding with your father and to ensure his wishes at the end. You can live peacefully with that. There are some things in life that we need to make known. I wear a necklace for that purpose. It says do not resuscitate. This way none of my grand children need to be the one to say pull the plug, it's my life and my decision.
When Jurate was in her final weeks, things got really bad because she had (as she did with too many things as it all worked out) not signed the DNR my lawyer gave her. I had told the caregivers she was DNR (it was a condition of getting help through home hospice), and she told them too. Then Big Sis came down, and the day Jurate was supposed to depart, Big Sis (A committed conservative Catholic) declared she was not DNR and had her taken to the hospital, intubated and the works. She and I had a screaming fit in the hospital hallway when I got over there and found what had been done. She could do this because one other thing Jurate hadn't done until she finally decided to do so when it was too late to avoid intervention by her sisters, was for us to officially marry so I could take care of this stuff. Fortunately, the doctors there managed to convince Big Sis that if there was another attempted intervention, Jurate would likely end up a vegetable. So she signed a DNR, Jurate went back to the hospice, and passed 10 days later.
Anyone reading this should take it as the example you don't want to go through and take steps to insure it doesn't happen to you.
Correct Tom, the necklace or bracelet lets medics, doctors and nurses know; but jewelry can be removed, so I also signed a DNR with Kaiser my insurer, and have let each of my grandchildren know these are my wishes.
My Dad died at age 45. I was 25 then at that was my first experience with the death of someone I truly loved.
I hate funerals, or "celebrations of life". I prefer grieving alone with no public spectacle. So when my second and truly beloved husband died, I had his remains cremated, did not keep the ashes and planned no ceremonies. Also as a non-theist (as was my husband), why did we need to have a funeral service? My mother, who was still alive and living with me, insisted on a service. My mother was so concerned about what would people think, that I gave in and paid for a church service and party.
This was followed in quick succession (2 weeks and 4 months) by the death of my oldest and middle daughters. I paid for my oldest daughter's cremation and attended the celebration of life.
I swore that when I died it would be with no pomp and circumstance. So I have made it very ,very clear that I will not pay for any service for myself. I've already prepaid for my own cremation and informed all relatives that when I'm dead I'm dead, get over it.
As with all my other beliefs and decisions I've told them, this is my personal desire and has nothing to do with them or anyone else. They can do whatever they want with their own corpses, and I certainly won't come back to haunt them.
Paid for mine too, told my daughter that I will haunt her if she does anything different.
Good for you Jeri
Seemed a no-brainer to me
Righteous intention for one can be so horrid for another. Tell it to anyone who will listen.