It's been a year and a few days since my dad died. He was 94 and lived an incredible life involving travelling around the world (literally!) as a scientist. In the end, my older sister and I did our best to keep him comfortable, along with some amazing nurses and the Frederick County Hospice. He died in his new home here in Frederick, Maryland, with his family and friends all getting a chance to say goodbye.
Taking care of him was hard at the end. Dementia had taken over, and it was hard not to be upset with him when he cursed at a nurse, or even at me or my sister. The anger came from his own knowledge that he had lost and was losing control of the simplest things, and I don't blame him. I guess I find myself a year later dealing with my own anger at -- what exactly? Human biology? Aging? These are hard, immutable facts that we all have to deal with in our own way.
I'm substitute teaching now, but still looking for something full time. I think he'd be pleased though. He grew up dirt poor, and education was his pathway to having an amazing and fulfilling life. I think he'd appreciate all my stories about the good days and the bad days. I'm also missing simple things like watching college football with him, or having a meal or some coffee.
We're all deeply complicated as people. And I think we generally do our best, and try to learn from those moments when we're not at out best. I wish I'd given him more hugs, or been a little more patient with him. At times it was so hard to know exactly what he wanted, and I hope just being there was usually -- certainly not always -- enough.
We miss you a lot Dad. I know you can still hear me, sometimes, when I talk to you. And if you're napping or busy in the garden, that's also fine. It can wait.
