I don’t remember the conversation that day, but I remember how I felt…

Its been 10 years since I received that phonecall. It’s cancer, it’s stage 4, there are mets. Disbelief….Acceptance….Gut wrenching heart breaking pain. This is why I volunteer in ARC cancer support.

It’s funny how time creates distance and lessens the intensity of emotion. But also, how easily I can tap in those feelings, when I allow myself to go there. Most days the missing is there but it is less intense. The mad thing is, he half jokingly said ‘you won’t even miss me when I’m gone’, or ‘you won’t even think about me’. I hope he realises, wherever he is, that could not be further from the truth! I miss him. There is not a day that goes by, that I don’t think of him. Ironically, when he was alive, I spoke to him less than I do now! Reflecting back, he was always in my thoughts. The irony of humanness, has meant time melted away any anger or hurt in our relationship. It is gone and only the feeling of love remains. A gift from him.

I am for sure more understanding of him as a person as I move on in years. Wisdom comes with understanding, and time creates more opportunity for learning.

Learning is an inevitably for those of us that choose to let go of ego. This allows us to experience the complexity of human emotions and behaviours in a more simple way. The simple version of life, love and forgiveness is all the is required. Us humans like to complicate life it seems.

I am interested now in how my behaviours impacted our relationship, but that conversation can never happen. I know I wish I listened more. I’m not sure why that conversation could not have happened then either.

I am so grateful for the opportunity we had that night on the sofa in front of the fire. It was Christmas night. We were watching a stupid Western that neither of us could concentrate on, because of the giant bloomin’ elephant in the room, death and dying. I still have that DVD. As I watched him beside me I started to cry. And he started to cry. I had only ever seen him crying twice previously. Still, in that moment, all he wanted to do was protect me from hurt. All I wanted to do, was to protect him and always have him in my life. I wanted to take his pain away. I wanted to allow him to feel safe instead of scared. He told me I would be fine. I couldn’t tell him the same. So I cried more. He, of course, is still is in my life because he is part of me. But the pain that night is something I treasure and will never forget. You cannot feel that kind of pain without absolute love.

The second moment in time I am truly grateful for is that day when we were in the hospice, just the two of us in that room, listening to classical music….in hindsight he much preferred jazz, dixie land to be precise. I felt it might hurt him as he was so weakened by the disease. It felt to jazzy for me. He was sleeping a lot at this point and he woke. Our eyes locked in time. I told him how much I loved him, and the power of those words when they were reciprocated is one of the biggest gifts he has left me with. No man will ever love me like he did. How did I never realise that before he left! He was no saint, he made mistakes as we all do. He was far quicker to forgive than I was. I’m still working on that one, this blog is a nice reminder. Another gift or lesson he left me.

I appreciate what he did for me far more now. I know he knew I loved and love him. I should have told him more.

Occasionally, sometimes more than occasionally, random moments in time, the thought comes, and I miss him with the same intensity. Thats ok. Thats love.

Thanks Dad.