Hi. Welcome to four deaths and a fire. Not a chill place for my mind to be, but oh hell, we all have those moments. I am happy. The choices I’ve made in the past few years have helped with anger and grief. The last three months have fast forwarded my life progress by light years. My husband will argue that light years is a physical distance and not a measure in time, but I’m an author so… it’s okay.
Anyhow, It started with a request and ended with a death. Accurate summary. Doesn’t everything profound start with something simple? A decision you make now can change your life forever tomorrow. For some, Life begins.
Like childbirth or slamming your funny-bone (not everyone experiences childbirth), all beginnings are painful, out of our control and wrought with fear. Yet somehow we grow into adults. Oh. I should mention. I was never child. By the time I became aware of living, my mind was thrust into a world of lies and deceit wrapped in the arms of an Italian mother. A mommy lifeline. Also known as a confusing long tether that, on occasion, left me adrift, swimming through confusion. Or, the cord was wrapped so tightly around my body it made it impossible to move or grow.
My mom was strong/weak. Powerful in her love for us children. Weak because she loved him, too. Her love for him became her downfall. She died. Do I blame him? Yes and no. Why, because I know right from wrong. He was the epitome of wrong. My mom died Twenty-one years ago. He died Three months ago. Funny thing… I cried as his life faded to nothing before my eyes. Cried like I did for my mom when she took her last breath.
Isn’t that interesting?
One day, after playing with my niece, my brother came to me with daunting news and a request. Dad was very sick and in the hospital and he wanted to see his children. He wanted to ask for forgiveness for being indifferent most of our lives. Hmmm. I’d already had closure about ten years ago. He came back into my life, against my personal wishes, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Another story. I’m good. Not the point. The moral of that story is you don’t deserve attention from him if your not dying anymore.
At that time, I gave him two rules of our relationship. One, he had to work at being a father. Two, if he left, that was it. He left. Guess I was wrong. That wasn’t it. When he called for us, I went. I literally said I forgave him during my first visit. He cried. By my next visit, he was back to being the angry, I hate the world man, that afterward claimed that oh, that’s all in the past, and I don’t wish people harm. My inner child smirked. I told him he really had to let go of his rage. On my third or fourth visit, I was alone with him and we had a two hour conversation in which he confessed some disturbing truths about himself. I believe it was the first time we ever had an honest conversation. Past chats included me telling him to leave at two different times, once when I was thirteen and another, I think I was seventeen, and on other occasions asking “who is she?”.
I’m pretty sure, as his illness progressed, the four of us visited every single day. We fought with the doctors on numerous occasions. We were losing another parent, and the tough years before didn’t matter.
He passed on April 9th 2018 as we stood around his bed. We sought comfort in each other and that was beautiful. Despite everything he did to tear us apart, the moment he took his last breath, we became a stronger healthier family.
Which is very fortunate… My father may have moved on, but his past is alive and well and we have been fighting to restore our legacy ever since. Crazy woman, poison ivy, a platoon of cats won’t stop us from achieving our goal. Putting to rest our past.
Mel Evers wonders about it all 