I'm been thinking a lot about my dad - the negative things like when he refused to come and visit me when I moved up to Johannesburg, even though he came up to visit his neice and her family once. But mostly I've been thinking about his death and not being there for him, and what he must have thought of me....very very guilty thoughts.
To explain, my dad had a huge stroke in 1994, which left him completely bed-ridden and requiring care 24/7. I didn't like seeing him that way, and felt really uncomfortable visiting him. At the time, I was only 21, and not mature enough do cope with it all. My brother, on the other hand, took all the responsibility upon himself. In 2000, Trevor and I moved to the UK. I didn't tell my dad as I didn't want to upset him. In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to have done, because I'm sure my brother or mother would have told him.
My dad fell ill in February 2001. I remember getting the message at work and my brother telling me he was in hospital and it wasn't looking good. I didn't go back and see my dad. The main reason was I wasn't quite 12 weeks pregnant, and didn't want to chance having another miscarriage, which would have been probable given how emotional the experience would have been, and we didn't have the money (although I would have made a plan if I hadn't of been pregnant).
So I never got to say goodbye. And the logical part of me always said I couldn't have changed anything, and he knew I loved him. But it wasn't the same. I never said 'goodbye'.
I had taken a few days off anyway, as it was Valentine's day, and returned to work as if nothing had happened. I can't even remember if I told anyone at work. And then I had Maxine in the August of that year, and my life got turned upside down as I tried to cope with all of the new mother experiences, and having Maxine weighed weekly because she wasn't putting weight on properly etc etc.
In hindsight, I never gave myself time to grieve.
And as stubborn as what he was in not coming to visit me in Johannesburg, he showed me his love in other ways. He had his will changed to request he be cremated and a red rose tree planted in front of my bedroom at home, just as I had requested in one of our family discussions some years ago, when he asked whether we wanted him cremated or buried. Me, being me, said I didn't want him to be buried and have to visit him in a grave, and then proceeded with my silly rose idea.
When we visited South Africa in 2002, I visited the house under very strained circumstances, with my sister-in-law not being exactly welcoming. The rose tree was outside my bedroom window, just as I had asked, and I thought I had said my 'goodbyes' while I was there, but, in hindsight, I don't think I did.
I do keep a red rose in my office at work, admittedly it's fake, but I lost count of how many real roses I'd killed off!
So that's where I am this month....as I said, in a funny place.....
Sending big hugs - remember that is all part of your journey, and you will come out the other end better off for having followed this road...Lots of love
ReplyDeleteThis post leaves me with my own raw emotions. I was with my dad in the last few hours of his life on the 18th of January...it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do...and keep it together when my mother lost it. I would however not have changed it for the world. I feel blessed that I could have been there at this time.
ReplyDeleteYou, my friend, had no choice in the matter. You will have to find your peace in that you did what you could when you could. You have to come to the place where you say goodbye and move on.
xx