There’s not much point in this post, but indulge me. My father died a few days ago, July 29th at 12:40 in the morning. He had bone, brain, lung, and adrenal gland cancer. He was suffering, and no longer is. I miss him, but am happy that he’s free of his pain.
He and I went through a rough patch for about four, maybe five years in which we barely spoke to one another. I nearly changed my last name so that I would no longer be identified with his family. We did not get along. Last December or so, however, I decided that I was being petty and tried to mend our relationship.
That’s what I’m driving at here. It went quickly, we made up, and became good friends again. About six months later, I held his hand as he died. I spent five years being convinced that I was right, completely right, that he deserved no sympathy and no forgiveness. And then, all of a sudden, I discovered I was wrong, and we had six months of a wonderful, meaningful relationship.
I cannot imagine the crushing regret I would currently be under had he and I not made up. That’s the true point of this post – not to gain sympathy or pity, because I already have far too much of that being poured out on me. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world because my dad and I made up and got to be a true father and son before he passed. That’s all I really wanted to tell you guys. Even if they don’t deserve a second chance, give it to them. Don’t fill yourself up with arrogant hate. It drains and corrupts you. Don’t spend your life beating yourself down with your own negative feelings. Either let them go, or mend them. The last thing I said to my father was just a simple “I love you.” There’s so much comfort in that that it’s indescribable, especially knowing where we were just a year ago.
I know I’m rambling, but I feel obligated in a way to pass this message on and this is the only way I know how. When someone dies, you cannot give them a second chance. Don’t spend the rest of your life wishing you had.