Finding Meaning in a Personal Loss

I never imagined my goodbye two weeks earlier would be the last words I'd say to him in person before he died. 

What was supposed to be a fun and relaxing summer trip to Paris with my wife and young son last year turned into me staring at my phone as my sister updated me on our father’s failing health. There were moments I thought he might pull through. There were moments when I wasn’t so sure. And there were plenty of moments of shouldering a lot of guilt about leaving the country (even though my mom said I should go) when my dad was stuck in a hospital bed.

 When it became clear he wasn’t going to make it and he was transferred to hospice, my wife and I decided to head back home to Chicago early. If only we had left a day before … minutes after clearing security at Charles de Gaulle, my phone lit up as we approached our gate. It was my sister. My wife took the phone and I braced myself as much as possible. Dad had just passed. My grieving mom reached me minutes later, explaining to me through tears how she was by his side as he took his final breath. A life of nearly 76 years, and a marriage that had recently reached 50, were now over.

 I had a complicated relationship with my dad. I was proud of his military service and the bravery he displayed as a young soldier in Vietnam, but as a father he was a coward. I often think about all those times growing up that I could have used a functioning, coherent dad, and he just wasn’t available.  

I know he wanted the best for me and was proud of me, but I can’t remember him ever telling me that. My memory of him is a lot of bad decisions and me never directing the words “I love you” to him in my 45 years, including during our FaceTime chat two days before he died when I struggled to piece together what I knew could be the last words he would ever hear from his youngest son.

I have always been obsessed with time and how there just never seems to be enough of it, so in the five months that have elapsed since he was laid to rest, I have made a decision that the time to start doing what makes me happy is now. His death is largely why I decided to stop just thinking about starting a writing and editing business and to make it happen. 

Life is just too damn short. Surround yourself with loving and supporting friends and family. Make beautiful memories. Dream big. And pursue those dreams.

Thank you, Dad. It’s just sad it took losing you to remind me of all this.