Life changed without warning. Suddenly my father, who I loved deeply was without warning lying in an ER being prepped for emergency surgery. They weren’t even certain they could save his life. My life as I knew it was over in that instant. With twelve hours notice I was on a plane from Germany with suitcases that held God knows what. I was shell shocked. I could barely function and I’d lay sleepless in the early dawn hours waiting for my father’s surgeon to call back preparing for my own departure in just hours. By the time I arrived in Florida It had been just about twenty four hours since my father collapsed and the hospital had called me in Berlin.
My terror was palpable. I’d already lost my mother to cancer six years before; this felt a burden I couldn’t withstand. I moved through customs and the airport procedures for foreign flights on auto pilot. I picked up my rental car in a blur and headed for the interstate and the two plus hour drive to Tampa. The closer I got to the hospital the more terrified I became. My father was lying critically ill in the ICU with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma cancer; the emergency surgery having stopped the perforation of his stomach and colon that the cancer had created. How had this happened?
My father was the picture of health. He rarely drank alcohol, he didn’t eat red meat, he didn’t smoke, he led what most considered a healthy life. So why was he lying near death? His symptoms had come on suddenly in early July; unexpected strong pain that doubled him over after dinner. He went to the Dr, and they began with tests for an ulcer, acid reflux and later for cancer. He had little appetite, felt lethargic and often had a low grade fever. Just over a month later after numerous stupid mistakes by the lab he was diagnosed with Non Hodgkins Lymphoma cancer. He received the news on a Friday and he collapsed on Monday before he was even able to see his dr and set up chemotherapy. It has barely begun and it was devestating; my father who was almost never sick was dying.
Terrified, traumatized, alone and knowing the depth of pain that would come with his passing my body moved on auto pilot. I did what I needed to do and I collapsed, sleepless, numb and raw every night for twelve nights while he lay in the hospital. The hospital visits were exhausting, It was a half hour drive each way to the hospital three times a day. After just a few days my aunt and I split shift and traded visits to reduce the exhaustion. My step brother Greg visited on his lunch break as often as he could and spent many evenings with dad as well.
Very little helped in those long, agonizingly painful days. Among the worst feelings I faced, the sheer terror of losing my last remaining parent. My father and I had a relationship fraught with challenges. We’d faced years of conflict and misunderstandings over expectations, lack of parential support, lifestyle and life choices. We’d even spent six months not speaking at one point when I’d reached my limit with his lack of calling me. We’d been through the gamet of challenges, but we loved one another deeply. He was my father and and in the last years since my mother’s death I’d struggled to make peace and to create understanding between us.
At times it wasn’t easy. It was god damn hard. My father was a stubborn man who was not patient or understanding about a lifestyle so foreign to his. He wanted a normal life for me; a good paying job in the United States, a solid investment plan, a husband and what he considered a normal life. My life was none of that.
My life was literally a foreign adventure. It was a life my father could not understand; moving from one exotic locale to another every three years with teaching contracts found through extensive interviews and steep competition at international job fairs. Everyone wanted these jobs and we all wanted the best location, salary and benefits. It drove my father nuts with frustration that my life wasn’t normal. ”Your life isn’t normal,” became a broken record statement in my life. Eventually, though he still felt it was odd my father found some acceptance with my lifestyle. He came to realize it was my normal; that it made me happy and I was seeing countries I’d dreamed of since childhood.
As I began healing the grief of my mother’s unexpected and painful loss I began trying to work on my splintered relationship with my dad. It was not an easy process. At times it was a pain in the ass and a couple times I truly said, “I’ve had enough” and had to walk away from it. My father was a strong, opinionated man who was driven to succeed. Having grown up poor made a deep impact on my father. He would go on to lead a driven life to create wealth and success for himself; he did it well and his life reflected the effort, integrity and passion he harnessed to create financial success.
That same success left little time for quality relationships at home and my resentment over his lack of emotional support and lack of time for me was a reoccuring theme in our life. Eventually in the last years together my father began to step up and really make an effort with regular phone calls, emails and the emotional support I needed from him. It wasn’t easy for either of us and over the years our explosive fights were evidence of that.
It was clear through our years of challenges that you can love someone deeply and yet not understand what drives them. My life was not in the realm of understanding for my dad and he made it a point to express that often over the years. My father certainly wasn’t the warm fuzzy type, though he was always affectionate and often told me he loved me. I rarely heard my father say he was proud of me. That would come later, painfully after his death. It would be then that I’d hear repeatedly from business associates and friends that he was proud of my life and my sense of adventure and willingness to live in cultures so different than my own. I needed to hear that, to know that somewhere in his heart that he was proud of me even though my life didn’t fit his definition of normal or successful.
My highest priority was not money. It was leading a life that brought me fulfillment and adventure. Traveling brought, and still brings me my greatest joy besides writing. I’m my happiest self writing, traveling and experiencing new adventures. Leading a fulfilling life, doing work that is meaningful to me is still my highest priority and thankfully I know today that my father’s spirit understands. He encourages, supports and helps me from spirit. I know it has been his angelic assistance that has guided me in the steps to take to find success and a publisher; after all could I expect less from a man who lived a life of integrity, drive and financial success.
My writing comes from my heart, but my eventual success will come with the assistance of my darling father, who finally understands my journey from the other side. I love you daddy and I miss you.
