“How I wish that I could tell you
It’s to you that I
would run
You were the place
that I could always rest my head
When my world had
come undone”
Sarah McLachlan
My Dad
was a very special person. He was the kind of guy that everyone liked. No one
had a single bad thing to say about him. His sense of humor and kind demeanor
served him well. While he was not perfect, he set the bar high as an example of
what kind of man I aspire to be.
The
last few years have been a challenge. My father had a condition called
supranuclear palsy. It is brain disorder that causes serious problems with
walking, balance and eye movements. The disorder results from deterioration of
cells in areas of your brain that control body movement and thinking. He was
also blind having had glaucoma as well as a bleeding retina several years ago.
My
wife, two daughters and my Dad lived together for 18 years until he had to move
into assisted living. This experience was short-lived as he required a higher
level of care six months later. But it was during our time together that my Dad
was able to live out his “golden years” as a proud father, father-in-law and grandfather.
But
specifically for me, my father’s love was demonstrated in many ways. When I became
ill with Bipolar Disorder he was unwavering in his support. I cycled in and out
of three inpatient psychiatric programs for eight years as well as an extended
amount of time in outpatient counseling. Also, during this period I abused
substances which certainly didn’t help my condition any. But despite all this,
my Dad never gave up on me. He was a faithful man and I know that he prayed
daily for my health and well-being.
I have
a picture in my mind of my father walking through the door of the various psych
units I was in with a broad smile on his face. He visited my every day. I’m
sure that seeing me in such a diminished condition was not easy for him.
However he never let me see that.
It was
this kind of support that helped me immensely. In my professional career as a
counselor as well as a member of the recovery community I’ve witnessed many
cases of individuals whose family members have disowned them, just to have them
fall and spiral down deeper into their illness and despair. I was fortunate not
to have had this experience.
I
would be remiss if I didn’t mention my mother. My Mom was the tough one. She
kicked my ass – day-in and day-out. But my Dad was the counterpoint to my Mom’s
relentless pushing for me to succeed. This combination worked. Looking back on
those days I realize that my Dad had infinite patience with me. He was able to
encourage me by expressing his love more from his actions than his words. It
wasn’t until the last couple of years when he was in skilled nursing that we
verbally shared those three special words with each other, “I love you.” I made
sure to say it to him as I departed and he would respond in the like until he
was unable to respond at all. But I made sure to continue saying it.
In the
last three days of his life, my Aunt Helen, my cousin Carolyn, and my wife Suzy
were at his bedside. My daughter Lillie was able to be there as well. He loved
her and her sister Sarah deeply. We consistently expressed our love for him and
despite his inability to communicate verbally I believe he heard those important
words.
When I
look back at my life with my Dad I realize that he wanted nothing more than for
me to be healthy and happy. I’m grateful that we had the opportunity to live
together for as many years as we did and that he was able to witness this. His care
and compassion were without limits. He loved me dearly and would do almost
anything for me. In recent years I tried the best I could to give him the same kind
of care and attention as he gave to me. As an only child it was difficult at
times to balance all the responsibilities I had when it came to taking care of
my Dad but I didn’t do it alone. Aunt Helen, Carolyn and Suzy were there as
well. But I still felt primarily the one making the major decisions.
This was,
at times, very stressful so I had to practice self-care to handle everything. I
managed to make time to exercise, get rest, attend my recovery meetings and use
my social support system to help me to deal with the pressure of being a member
of the “sandwich generation.” I also made sure to maintain my medication
regimen and regularly check in with my psychiatrist and therapist.
My
father passed away into the Great Beyond one week ago. And while this experience
is fresh in my mind and the pain is present, I find solace in knowing that he
and I were able to cultivate a beautiful relationship. There is something
special about a father and son. I will always carry a big piece of him in my
heart. I will try to do my best to make him proud and to carry on his legacy of
kindness, humility, and generosity.
Rest in Peace Dad
Sarah McLachlan
Song for My Father
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