Father's Day is now over. I don't think the day has changed for me, but I think I hold a different perspective of it. About 4 1/2 years ago, my father really did almost die. He had melanoma, his second cancer in less than three years and just one of his health ailments, and was being treated for it aggressively. He had a bad reaction to the treatment and went into sepsis and was in the ICU for a month.
When I heard the news, I went down to the hospital, about a nine hour drive away. I stayed there for a week. My mother and I as well as his wife visited and talked to him, telling him how much we loved him, that he was strong, and would make it. Right before I left, I do remember talking to him alone and telling him if he did want to go, it was okay, that he didn't need to hold on for me, that I was going to be okay. It was a weird thing. I didn't want him to die, but at the same time, I accepted it too if that was what was going to happen.
He eventually came out of his coma state and when was able to talk, he remembered hearing my voice as well as my mother's. I am certainly glad he made it out alive and well. These days, we laugh about it and say how he has survived just about everything. But really you never know. It could easily be a misstep, or the flu, or pneumonia, or an accident that could send someone to the hospital and not make it out alive. It's a scary thought.
We still have a lot of issues from the past. I'm *trying* to let go of some of them, knowing that it's never really going to change, that I can't change him, nor him me. Even though he still irritates me with certain issues (ie grad school, medical school, job, house, etc.), I do know that his intentions are in the right place. Sometimes those intentions can be overwhelming and tiresome, but they do come from a place of love. For that, I am thankful.
I hope one day I can feel just as good about myself as the many positive, good things he says about me/towards me. In the end, I think that would be his ultimate goal for me.