Letting Go
I spent a long time in the months after the funeral working through my own grieving process. But it was weird because I had technically grieved his "death" a few years earlier when my dad went from being the man who raised me to the meth addict who destroyed himself and his family. I fed off of a pool of strength that I'm not even quite sure where it came from.
Eventually I came to a place where I accepted that my dad did a lot of very awful things, and had many demons inside of him, but that no person is 100% good or evil. I chose to remember the good times I shared with him, and the positive things he brought to my life. But I also chose not to forget the damage he brought to me either, and instead resolved to try to let those things make me stronger, not bog me down.
I freely admit today that I love my dad, but am also very angry and hurt at many of the things he did, and how he chose to end his life. I'm allowed to feel both, and neither are mutually exclusive. My acceptance of that brought me a lot of peace. I don't regret the fact that we never repaired our relationship. I don't regret that when I had seen him at a family gathering only a week and a half before his death that we didn't utter a word to each other. I don't regret that I didn't tell anyone about what he had done to me. I don't regret any of the choices I made. It wouldn't do any good anyway, and I did the things I did because they were the right decisions at the time. It's pointless to second guess those decisions now.
A few weeks ago the family went up to the Klamath River, my dad's most favorite place. My brother and I, along with my dad's brother and sister, rode up the river and released my father at his favorite fishing spot. I know this is what he would have wanted (actually, he used to say he wanted to be buried in his boat, but that wasn't practical, so we settled for spreading his ashes in the river instead). I was glad to finally let him go and to close the book on this chapter of my life. I hope that my dad was finally able to find peace in whatever exists after this life.
Eventually I came to a place where I accepted that my dad did a lot of very awful things, and had many demons inside of him, but that no person is 100% good or evil. I chose to remember the good times I shared with him, and the positive things he brought to my life. But I also chose not to forget the damage he brought to me either, and instead resolved to try to let those things make me stronger, not bog me down.
I freely admit today that I love my dad, but am also very angry and hurt at many of the things he did, and how he chose to end his life. I'm allowed to feel both, and neither are mutually exclusive. My acceptance of that brought me a lot of peace. I don't regret the fact that we never repaired our relationship. I don't regret that when I had seen him at a family gathering only a week and a half before his death that we didn't utter a word to each other. I don't regret that I didn't tell anyone about what he had done to me. I don't regret any of the choices I made. It wouldn't do any good anyway, and I did the things I did because they were the right decisions at the time. It's pointless to second guess those decisions now.
A few weeks ago the family went up to the Klamath River, my dad's most favorite place. My brother and I, along with my dad's brother and sister, rode up the river and released my father at his favorite fishing spot. I know this is what he would have wanted (actually, he used to say he wanted to be buried in his boat, but that wasn't practical, so we settled for spreading his ashes in the river instead). I was glad to finally let him go and to close the book on this chapter of my life. I hope that my dad was finally able to find peace in whatever exists after this life.
posted by Dani | 7:34 PM
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