Loss And Relationships

So, my father died.

It’s been that kind of week. My biopsy was negative, but they wanted more. It’s a new kind of being in demand, and they want flesh.

Back to the old man: I was the last member of the family that still spoke to him, perhaps my empathy is a weakness. To be clear he was a brilliant, but weapons-grade abrasive human being.

My contact was a chore, a call every few weeks. It would start pleasant, with talk of opera, flashbacks to his broadcasting or record company days, then would quickly slide into a few jabs at me or other members of the family. I would find a quick verbal exit, and with a few breaths, return to my blissful state it took me 30 years to achieve.

I would say he fought his declining health to the end, but he didn’t. He went from his chair, to dialysis, and back to his chair where he would bark commands at his second wife. She is a delicate angel whose empathy is all consuming and at this point detrimental to her well being.

After he passed I texted my brother to let him know the man he hasn’t spoken to, with extremely good reason, for more than 30 years, was now being condescending to the angel of death. Well, not really. I actually said “As of 3:30 this morning we are without adult supervision”.

Our mother passed last year. When my brother called me about her passing I wept, and without thinking said, “She was the only one that was nice to us”.