For several years, my aunt, cousin, and I jointly became my father’s caretakers. During his last days, we literally altered our lives to provide around-the-clock care. Coupled with the loss of his sight and speech, he became more active at night. So, we took shifts during the day, but all stayed either awake or on high alert at night. No doubt this created a bond between us.
As my father’s days shortened, my cousin became triggered, remembering her mom’s last days. So, I told her all the things I loved about their relationship, and that I had been low-key jealous for many years. As we talked about her mother/my aunt, she expressed her deep love for her mom and how she desperately missed her. She was not only her mother but best friend, and the countless good times poured out of her grieving heart as she tried to replace the sorrow.
Consoling her triggered me. My relationship with my father was quite different. I met him at 13 and was placed in foster care shortly after. I had no fond childhood memories, never heard him say my middle name, and he never wished me a happy birthday (I don’t think he even knew it). But when he became ill, I took on a portion of his caregiver role. I was working from a point of obligation and thought I didn’t need to be consoled.
We shared a moment of pause, and I stated, “I wish to say that I understand how you feel, but I can’t. Because I didn’t have a relationship with my parents like that.” And as we held hands and cried, she said to me, “I am sorry you never received that from your parents, and I pray you receive that love from someone.” We then continued to hold hands and cry in silence.
Now, in the second year of my father’s passing, I feel different. I needed consoling. I cared for him in secret for about five years. As cancer ravaged his body and dementia toyed with his mind, I would quietly sit with him, take him to the doctor, and do whatever I could to bring him comfort. And although we barely knew each other, I honored him as my father. And in his weakest moment, I pushed aside my personal feelings and life to see him through. To grant his wish to die at home. And I miss him.
So, what am I saying? It doesn’t matter how strong or weak your relationship with your parents is. Honor them as parents. And although it was not easy, I am not filled with regret, but I am at peace. I think it’s because when my parents needed a daughter; I was there for them, regardless of their lack of parenting me.
