Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when it comes to family. The recent passing of both my father and my brother, Zac, has brought a wave of complex emotions. With my father, it felt like we were constantly bracing for the inevitable, a long goodbye drawn out over years. His resilience was remarkable, and a large part of that was due to my mother’s unwavering dedication as his caregiver. She tirelessly managed his appointments, explored countless treatments, and navigated the labyrinthine world of medications and healthcare systems. Her life became completely consumed by his care, a demanding task that she undertook with incredible strength. In a way, his passing brings a sense of relief, knowing he is finally free from pain.
My grief for my father is tangled with conflicting emotions. There’s sadness for the loss of who he was, but also a lingering anger at how he treated our family. He possessed a brilliant mind, brimming with creativity and imagination. He could captivate you with endless tales of his projects and passions. Yet, this same man battled with alcoholism and a volatile temper, casting a shadow of abuse over our family. Growing up, he was the one who crafted elaborate Halloween costumes, enthusiastically assisted with science fair projects, helped with homework, and introduced me to the magic of countless books. But parallel to these cherished moments was the constant presence of his drunken rage and hurtful words. My father’s anger manifested physically, particularly towards my brother Zac. I witnessed him strike Zac throughout our childhood. One incident was so distressing that it led to tears on the school bus, prompting the bus driver to contact Child Protective Services, triggering an investigation into my father’s behavior. While he might have been more restrained for a short period, the underlying anger always resurfaced.
Despite the darkness, there were brighter moments. He had a deep love for music and spent countless afternoons sharing his records with my brother and me, immersing us in the sounds of the 60s and 70s, a musical education that shaped our tastes. He was fascinated by rockets, building large-scale experimental ones and launching them in the desert with fellow enthusiasts. I even joined him in this hobby, building my own rockets alongside him. He instilled in me a valuable sense of fearlessness when it came to taking things apart and trying to fix them. Thanks to him, I possess a degree of self-reliance when it comes to household repairs and even basic car maintenance. I recognize a significant part of my own creative spirit as a direct inheritance from him.
However, my father made no secret of his disappointment in both Zac and me, and I feel he never truly understood us as adults. He disapproved of my career path, having envisioned me as a doctor. When I realized medicine wasn’t my calling, his bitterness was palpable. Over the years, his anger and harshness created numerous fractures within the family. A cycle emerged: anger fueled by alcohol, hurtful words exchanged, followed by periods of estrangement from family and dwindling friendships. Zac and I distanced ourselves from him for years, seeking peace from the turmoil.
Life, as it often does, presents us with a complex tapestry of contradictions. His passing evokes a bittersweet ache – a longing for the father he could have been, interwoven with a recognition of the positive traits that are undeniably a part of who I am today. He was, undeniably, a difficult man, and his actions left deep wounds within each of us and our family relationships. Confronting him in his later years, expressing my feelings and setting boundaries, proved to be a strengthening experience. Perhaps, in an unintended way, he contributed to my resilience. In his final years, he expressed annoyance at my infrequent calls and texts, a distance I maintained to protect my own well-being. I hold no regrets about this, and I am also grateful for the few genuine visits we shared in the last couple of years. I will forever carry these conflicting emotions for my father. The profound sadness stems from the unfulfilled potential, from the realization that he never found a way to manage his inner turmoil. But I refuse to perpetuate that cycle of unawareness. I Take These Broken Wings And Learn To Fly, breaking free from the patterns of the past, and choosing a path of self-awareness and healing.
