Today I leave Southern California to say goodbye to my dad. He has less than 72 hours to live. I’m a bit apprehensive and on edge.  My relationship with my dad has never been a close one.

My dad sexually abused me as a child.  It caused me to get a diagnosis of complex PTSD later in my adult life.  I am fifty now – not too happy about that to tell you the truth.  I expected to be much further along in my recovery.  I currently have nine months clean.  It is the longest time I have had during my on-going battle with meth addiction starting back in 2001.

 

I need to remember that the purpose of my trip to Sacramento is to say goodbye to my dad.  I had an earlier visit where I made amends for the effect my drug addiction had on them.  I originally had intended to get amends from them for what they did.  However, when I saw the state my mom and dad were in (my mom has dementia.), I decided to make amends to them.  It was not easy.  I was highly emotional and torn up with emotions.  My dad cried when I asked him if I hurt him in any way and what could I do to make it better.  He simply told me to not ever use again and proceeded to sob.  This was the first time my dad showed me he cared for me.

Growing up he never told me I did anything right.  I was told I was stupid every day. He never told me he loved me nor showed it.  He treated me like I was a human being to humiliate time after time.  In addition to him molesting me by inserting sharp objects up my anus, he verbally assaulted me daily.  As a result, I came to hate myself, believing the only thing I had to offer to this life was my body.

Naturally, I have mixed emotions about his passing.  A part of me is very sad; the other part is angry at him.  I need to remember my reason for going to Sacramento is to be of service and be the son I would be proud of.

I have never had to say goodbye to a parent.  I imagine it will be hard. In two more hours, I leave for my flight.  I hope I can do what I am going up there to do. Wish me luck.

I arrived in Sacramento at 6:00 p.m  When I first walked in, I could hear the oxygen machines and my dad breathing heavily.  I was not prepared for what I saw in the living room.  In the living room, in the middle of the room, lay my dad.  He was so thin and looked like he was on his deathbed, which he was.  I became overwhelmed with feelings. I went into the kitchen and just sobbed.  I had so many mixed emotions about seeing him lying there lifeless.  We are giving him dulatin; it’s a pain pill. We have stopped giving him his regular medicine for diabetes. We are letting him die in peace.  I told him I loved him and forgave him. I truly meant it.

My niece is feeding him the dulatin right now.  It’s hard to watch,  She has to coach him to swallow the medicine.He is making so much noise as it goes down his throat.  She has to massage his neck to encourage that he swallows the liquid medicine. She talks to him and tells him he is alright and to swallow.  Now she is cleaning the mucus that gets stuck in his throat.  It’s all too difficult to watch the closer he moves toward his death

She is sitting by his side rubbing his hands. She murmurs to him telling him to relax and that he is alright.  The medicine is starting to do its job.  He has become calmer. He still coughs here and there from all the phlegm. In a few short hours, my father is dead.