I haven't cried in a very long time to the point that I am not sure if I could anymore.
My elderly father isn't doing very well and is in a lot of pain - I hope that his time will come soon and end it - he deserves better, he has struggled enough through life and he shouldn't have to suffer to death. Unfortunately, we can't pick the way we go - at least if nature takes its course.
I feel sorry for my brother and his wife who have to deal with all of it, as they did when my mother passed back in 2004. I have it easy, I am not there.
I didn't get to talk to my mother before she passed, but I did get to say goodbye to her when I left Australia with us both knowing it would likely be the last time we would see each other. I also got to spend time with her in the lead up to me leaving, just talking.
My dad used to live with me for a short time about 20 years ago and we would talk a lot together in the evenings. I was very ill then and he was one of the few who would always be positive about my recovery. We spoke about many things back then and while he was not a talented person in so many ways, he was gifted in others and could hold discussions on a great many topics. I am the fourth child and my childhood with him was different to that of my older brothers and I think it meant our relationship was different also.
He was an artist, which is strange to say, as for me, he is an artist - but can no longer do his art. If you can no longer do what you did, you are no longer classified under that label - his art will live on well past himself though, something that I think he would take comfort in. He will always be my dad though - it is a label held to the grave.
I haven't seen him in a decade and barely talked to him in the last few years. When I have it has been brief and casual, as his dementia has limited the time he is lucid. I wish he could have met my daughter - I think they would have liked each other.
I look like him and resemble him in more ways than looks. It worries me as since I was a child I observed him closely and saw the pain life caused him, especially in the relationships he held, as people took advantage of his nature and even though he knew he would be hurt again, he would still give his all to others.
I don't know how a person lives over 80 years the way he has, a life that was filled with so much work for so little personal gain, yet he kept going on, day after day, often facing the kind of prejudice one does when looking different to others. While I do not believe in a God, he does and if he is right, I hope he gets treated well.
Being different is a blessing, not a curse - especially for an artist and I think what set him apart was his work ethic. He wasn't the flamboyant that bounced around wearing passé clothes trying to differentiate, nor was he the tortured artist that struggled with his inner demons - He was stoic, stiff-upper-lipped and tireless when it came to getting tasks done. He was serious.
I don't mean he didn't laugh or make jokes - he was more willing to be the clown than most - but he was serious about life, serious about his art, serious about the world and the potential it held. People rarely took him seriously though. I think this is the reason I felt so akin to him - as I have been dismissed often enough in much the same way, or at least that is how I felt based on what I observed in him. He rarely cracked when hurt, he would just smile, go quiet and sit back from the conversation - I can picture his expression now - it makes me sad.
I know that I will never see him again, I know that I will likely never talk to him again - I wonder if it will affect me later, if I will feel like I never got closure, never the chance to say goodbye. Perhaps it doesn't matter though and maybe, that is the best way to keep my memories of him alive. Pain is a good reminder.
What I do know is that he has had a positive affect on more people through his direct actions than most others have in this world, and I know many who only later realized the influence they had on their life. I wonder if his five children will realize what he has provided them. Will we attribute our strengths or our weaknesses to his influence? Of course, the answer is both, as influence always cuts both ways and circumstances and timing can dictate whether a skill is positive or negative.
Timing is a cruel condition of life. In another world, perhaps all the work he did would have amounted to him having a better life, one where he was provided more personal joy, instead of having to be content with being happy for others.
He failed as a father in many ways, but as a father myself, I think that is part of the gig - there will never be right, just the best one can do. And I think that is one of the traits my father exemplified, he always put in his best, no matter the task at hand - there was no cutting corners - he always took the long way - even if it meant running out of time for himself.
I resemble him in many ways.
Taraz
[ Gen1: Hive ]