Gifts of the Father(s)

My father was ill on and off for 10 years. After a serious heart attack, I wasn't sure if he was going to be around much longer when he arrived home from the hospital. He ended up living another 8 years, but at the time, I was told by his doctor that a sneeze could take him out because his heart was in such bad shape.

My father and I had a deep relationship. But when you have a deep relationship that often means you have to go through some tough times together, and boy, we sure did.

I'm also close to my step-father. My parents divorced when I was 15, and my step-father stepped in as a father figure when I needed him to. He was a Navy captain when he was still in service, and his steady hand in rough water has always been a valuable resource to me.

Shortly after my father's heart attack, Dad and I were sitting at his kitchen table and we started talking about some past events that I felt needed to be brought to the surface.

One event that I brought up had to do with a decision he had made that had deeply hurt me. Up until that point, I'd never discussed it with him, but it was something that had made my heart heavy and I thought I needed to clear the air in case a random sneeze happened and I wouldn't have the chance again.

He acknowledged my pain, and gave his reasons for the decision, and we got it resolved.

But then the tables turned. He decided to confide in me about a decision I had made that had deeply hurt him.

I was taken aback. Not by his honesty, but by my total and complete unawareness that this decision that I had made years ago had left him so hurt.

At the time, I thought my decision was a good one, and it never occurred to me that it had impacted him in such a hurtful way.

My surprise was complete. "My God," I thought. "how many decisions have I made in my life that I thought were good, or even without much significance to others, that hurt someone so deeply that they never let it go?".

It was one of the most sobering moments I've ever experienced.

I was talking to my step-father this week about the pathway of grief, and he said something that has stuck with me all week.

I shared with him that for the first time, I was able to think about my parents without automatically going to my memory of their time of death.

He told me, "Try and remember the gifts your mother and father left you, and don't think about the pain of their passing."

Looking back, that conversation with my dad taught me more than I expected.

I brought something to the table that I had carried for years, and it felt good to finally speak it out loud. But I didn’t expect the table to turn. I didn’t expect to hear how something I had done had left a mark on him.

That moment stopped me in my tracks. It reminded me how easy it is to hurt someone without ever meaning to. I was just living my life, making what seemed like the right choice at the time.

We both showed up that day with our own stories, and we both chose to keep our butts parked in the kitchen chairs facing each other with the pain. That’s what grace looks like to me now.

I didn't know, and I'm truly sorry.

Random fact about me: I've been covered in whale snot in Alaska.