First Father's Day Without Dad Will be a Tough One

This will be the first father’s day my siblings and I will observe without our dad.

I know my sister and I will feel his absence. My brother doesn’t bring the subject up, which tells me he feels the absence very deeply.

It will be a difficult day in so many ways. Today, all three of us will again be forced to sift through the trunk of emotions which is filled with anger, resentment, confusion, helplessness, loneliness and, perhaps most importantly, guilt.

My father died in October attached to wires and tubes at a hospital he despised. As we neared the end, he was unable to talk; Unable to move; Unable to enjoy the foods he loved so much.

He loved Chinese food, dark beer, Del Taco and Shakey’s pizza and mojos. My sister and I begged him to stop, or at least limit, how much of it he ate. He was severely diabetic. The food was killing him.

My father never listened.

“He used to get mad at me because I wouldn’t take him fast food,” my sister Stephanie told me. “When I visited, he would complain about being hungry. So I made him food, only to find out from his caretaker that he snuck out to get fast food an hour before.”

Even with 18 years writing experience, it’s still difficult for me to write about my family's history. It's filled with as much pain as joy. And yes, there was domestic violence.

It’s difficult for me to reflect on weekends spent at the racetrack or a childhood filled with drunken parties.

My father misspent so much of the family’s money we were evicted from several apartments. My mother would beg him not to spend.

He never listened.

And yet my one greatest regret is that I could never give him the kind of life he so desperately wanted. There were times when I could see the deep loneliness in his eyes. It would take me nearly 40 years to understand depth of his fear.

He needed us near but pushed us away. It took me decades to understand that the parties drowned out the fear. The track gave him hope for riches, which equaled security … and more parties. The food was immediate gratification.

In the end, he was stripped of all it. There’s a part of me that carries guilt over this, as if I could have done something to save him or could have “fixed” his life.

Now that he’s gone, there will be no awkward visit to his apartment that would end in arguments because we refused to buy him Del Taco.

And to be honest, I’m not sure how we’ll deal with Father’s Day. Who knows? Maybe I’ll go to Del Taco.