It’s Father’s Day and that day doesn’t conjure up many fond memories for me. My dad passed away in 2015 due to kidney failure, but ultimately from dementia.
Dad was an old school man. He believed in working hard. There was no doubt that he loved his family. Somehow he didn’t know how to say it. For years I resented him for it. In previous writings I shared that in the last weeks of his life I made peace with him. The last three or four years of his life, it was difficult to communicate with him because he didn’t fully understand because dementia robbed him of his ability to speak.
Growing up, it was hard to talk to him. I felt like anytime I asked him a question, it felt to me like I was a nuisance to him. I guess that was just his way. Over time, he became more pleasant. I think that signaled the beginning of his illness. However at the same time I realized I should be more accepting. After Greg and I married, if there was something minor that needed to be fixed at our house, I called him occasionally, and he was happy to oblige.
That was his way of loving. I wish I’d figured this out sooner rather than later. I spent so much time waiting for him to say “I love you,” that I missed all of those times that he said it in other ways.
Even in Dad’s kinder and gentler time, he was still stubborn. During this time I noticed that every time I saw him he was wearing the same thing. Not the same kind of outfit, but literally the same thing. When I voiced my concern, he was resistant and downright refused to go to the doctor. Although he worked as a pharmacy tech for years, he was deeply distrustful of any kind of medication. We even staged an intervention after he got lost driving for the third time, but it was unsuccessful.
In retrospect, I think that his resistance to me was largely because of my strong resemblance to my mother. There were times when I saw him give me a double take, and in the last years of his life when he couldn’t speak, I would imagine that he would have asked me why I came back thinking that I was his deceased wife.
Somehow over the years their relationship suffered and I don’t know why. I certainly knew how my mother felt but I wish that in his last days he had the presence of mind to have a candid conversation. Most of all though, I’m thankful that I’m at a point in my life that I’m able to celebrate my father for the man that he was, not for the man I wanted him to be.
Happy Father’s Day to all the men out there who are often misunderstood and are just trying to do the best they can.
#ksmithsays
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