In September of 2007 I found out that my father was dying. At that point he had been living in North Carolina for some time, and I hadn't seen him in years. We were told he didn't have much time left, so me and my family got on a plane to go see him, we spent a few days there, visited my father, and discussed what was to be done. It was decided he be moved up to Jersey where his family and friends could be close, and the medical care would be infinitely better, since on the day of our departure to see him, the hospital had lost him for a day. Nearly three years later and he's fine, the two week time-line his doctors in North Carolina gave him was a bit of a miss. He had been living with my sister, and I still had little contact with him. Today I found out he's in the hospital again, and will be going into surgery tomorrow. And like when I heard of his imminent death... I didn't really feel anything.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't want my father to die. But the man has not been a part of my life in a very long time, and I've actually made efforts to distance myself from him. My father has a genius level IQ, he was a Marine, a brilliant mechanic, and at heart a cowboy and a biker. He also may have schizophrenia, was kicked out of the Marines for punching a superior officer, could never hold down a job, and was an alcoholic which lead to the cirrhosis of the liver. In his life he did some bad things, he was in and out of jail for drunk driving and fighting, and I remember him being arrested once for punching an undercover cop. This is the man who taught me how to ride a bike, how to throw a baseball and a football, he taught me how to fish, and for that I defended him for years.
Years of my life I remember becoming angry when people spoke ill of my father. I always tried to point out his good when the bad came out. This is the man who raised me, the man I'm named after, I hated to hear him put down, even when it was justified. In my early twenties though, something changed. I started to realize that I was defending a man in his late 40s, a man who would regularly get into brawls at bars, and who would drink while his family was in the car with him, a man who everyone told me I was just like.
That was the driving point, I look like my father, I'm named after my father, but I don't want to be my father. My fathers life is not something to strive for. I put distance between us, determined not to be him, and the unfortunate side effect is a apathy when I hear he might be dying. Like I said I don't want my father to die, but there's so much distance between us now, I don't know how to feel bad for him.
When you're a child your dad is a super hero, as you grow up though you realize he's not, he's just a man. He makes mistakes, and my father has made many. My father is not the greatest man in the world, but he has shown me and my brother nothing but love. We are the two things he is most proud of in his life, but we're not his little boys anymore. I've changed so much in the past few years, and maybe that's why I feel the way I do about my father. Maybe it's not because I've tried so hard not to be him, but because I was successful in not being him. I'm my own man, and I'm not sure my father would like the man I've become.
Maybe I'm just afraid that if he gets to know the man I am, I'll stop being my father's son.
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