Towards the end of April this year, my biological father, Douglas, died. One night he wasn’t feeling well, was dizzy and not making sense with his words, so his girlfriend called 911.. they brought him into hospital to rule out things like stroke.. only to find he had an abdominal aortic aneurysm and died on the operating table in the early hours of the morning. There is very little the doctors can do for you.
It’s been hard for me to process because I’ve been physically, mentally, and spiritually distant from him since he would not believe I am ill. He would take cheap shots at my mother; that was the only way he could express his pain from their separation. He drunk the rest of it away for most of his life.
But then there were times he’d play his guitar.. we’d both sing.. and all would be right with the world for about 3-4 minutes. I grew up listening to him play all kinds of music live, it was great.
But aside from music, we lost our connection. I would have to be the one to visit him, he never came out west save for once in 2002. I was 21 years old, getting married, and looking forward to starting a somewhat normal life.. he arrived right before the ceremony and left less than two hours later. Never even made an effort to spend any time with me.
But I wrote to him for years with no answers. I called him, sometimes from my hospital bed. My brother became so distressed at his lack of regard for me that he ended up moving out to the West Coast in 2008 so he could have me and our mother nearby.
Now the only time I find myself emotionally connecting is when music plays that I’ve heard him play. That will bring me back.. thank goodness for music.
A friend painted the following picture from one of my photographs.. so I added words of grief over it. Speaks perfectly to what I’ve been feeling since getting this news.