I always thought I would get the chance to say goodbye to my dad before he died – goodbye plus some other things I really needed to say. But he died peacefully in his sleep a few weeks back and my opportunity was suddenly gone.
Some relationships that are supposed to be natural are actually the hardest. That was the case with me and my dad. I can’t say it was really a surprise that he passed. I had received a note from him a few months prior saying that he was in poor health.
So why didn’t I say the things I needed to say? I wish I had a good answer. The best I can do is confess that I didn’t have the best relationship with my dad. It all started during my childhood. But even as an adult I could never bring myself to address what went wrong and get it out in the open with him.
It all came back to haunt me the day he died.
Dad and I both lived in the Phoenix area but I hadn’t seen or spoken with him for nearly eight years. People close to me asked how I would feel if I didn’t reach out to him or trying to patch things up. I wasn’t worried. Boy, was that a mistake!
When I got the news that he had died, I went into a fit of uncontrollable crying that lasted for hours. I’m not proud to say it, but I just couldn’t stop crying. Clearly I was in trouble and I needed someone to talk to.
So I called in a dear friend Dr. Marilyn Murray, who is an internationally recognized expert in the field of trauma. She had the insight I needed to get me to open up and talk about what had happened between me and my dad. She spent hours helping me release some of the pain and navigate through the grieving process.
Here are a few things I learned along the way.
• Grief comes in many forms. But there are several stages most people will pass through on the way – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally peace. I think I am stuck somewhere between denial and depression. For now, that is okay. Talking about it means I’m not suppressing it anymore and that is a healthy first step for me.
• I can’t do it alone, and you probably shouldn’t either. Grief is as individual as the relationships it is connected to. But cutting yourself off from other people will not help. When I was washed away by my tears, I didn’t want anyone to see me being so weak and vulnerable. Fortunately, I had wonderful friends who saw past my attempt at being okay and rushed in to surround me with love and laughter and a few tears of their own to ease my way. Letting other people love you and take care of you is a healthy step when you are grieving, although it was not one I was familiar with.
• Some grief lasts longer than others. I am still mourning the loss of my best friend who died of cancer at age 70. Grief is a process that is never the same. Grief changes your life. You may not like the change, but you will eventually learn to live with it.
• There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I believe grieving takes as long as it takes. You can’t give it a deadline or rush to get through it. You need to grieve as long as it takes to move forward. It’s like riding a roller coaster of emotions. You may want to get off, but you can’t do it until you reach the end of the line.
Grieving is a very individual process. I know that I am nowhere near done grieving for the loss of my father and the lost opportunity to talk to him. But I realize now that no matter what happened, I love my father. I wouldn’t be here without him and I wouldn’t be who I am without him. I wish I could thank him for that.
I do want to thank my step-mother, Donna for being an amazing partner and caregiver for him. At this point I’m still seeing my therapist Dr. Marilyn Murray and still trying to come to grips with the lost opportunity to talk to dad. Difficult relationships are hard. But I know now that it is even harder if you lose the opportunity to try to make it right.
If I’ve learned one thing from dad’s passing, it’s never to leave things unspoken. If you can’t bring yourself to say it in a personal conversation, at least write it down. Don’t make yourself live with unfinished business. I’m trying to find closure without being able to finish what was between us. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
And to my father, Cliff Axt, this article is dedicated in loving memory to you.