I tried to give him peace, but will I ever find mine
Hello all. This is my first time posting here, so apologies if my message is too long
Growing up, I didn’t actually know my dad was an alcoholic. I just knew that on the good days he would stay in his study room, playing games on his computer and not come down. And on bad days, I’d end up hugging my little sister as she cried, or pushing my bookshelf against my bedroom door to stop him from coming in to yell at me. He never hit us, but he was intelligent, and even when drunk knew just what to say to hurt us. I grew up being called useless, stupid, selfish, and whatever other insult he could think of. And if I dared be hurt by this and not hug him after he yelled at me, then I was an ungrateful daughter. I didn’t know what made him like this, so I suppose I learnt to believe that the problem was me.
He moved out when I was 13, and I went no contact with him at 16. Well, no contact apart from the times he would text me randomly or call me out of the blue, claiming he was just testing his Alexa. I learnt he was an alcoholic when he moved out but I don’t know if it made a difference.
Well, he died a couple weeks ago. I learnt he was critically ill the night before. My mum and aunt (his sister) had not wanted to make me or my sister anxious, so had held off on telling us until things got really bad.
I went to see him that night. Originally I didn’t want to. I was tired and just wanted to sleep. But my sister was going down and my mum told me that I should know he may not last the night. Something in me said I should go, so I did.
He looked and sounded like death. He could barely keep his eyes open, and his frame was weak. His voice sounded raspy and horse. My aunt and her husband were already there. My sister and mum went in first, I was crying outside. Then he asked for me. So, I went in.
He apologised, as best he could. He told he how he’d screwed up being a dad, even if he couldn’t remember what he’d done. He told me he loved me, and he was sorry.
I held his hand and told him it was ok.
I sat with him, holding his hand as my cousins arrived and we all talked. Not about what things had been like, just normal stuff. School, work, tv shows. He laughed and talked, though weak. I even hugged him after he asked, though he made sure I knew I didn’t have to if I didn’t feel comfortable. I do believe he didn’t want me to be uncomfortable, but saying no would have felt like denying a dying man his last request.
Then we left and the next morning, we were told he’d died in the night.
I don’t forgive him. I don’t think I can ever forgive him. He taught me I was only worth my mistakes, that I was selfish for having boundaries, and that I wasn’t worth fighting for, having once called me and my sister in to make us watch as he sent an email cancelling any further sessions he had with a therapist he’d been seeing. Like he wanted us to beg. He made me hate myself.
But in those last moments with him, I told him it was ok. Because despite everything, I didn’t want his faults to define me. I wanted to be kind, and for him to pass on having made amends for any regrets he had in life. Maybe that makes me the same girl I was at 10 years old, trying to convince myself that if I was just a better daughter, he’d be ok. My family has told me I’m strong for what I did. But I don’t know. Was it strength that made me say it was ok, or just that learned survival method of appeasing those around me? Or am I just doubting myself because I was taught that I wasn’t worthy of praise? I don’t know. And is the numbness I feel now in the place of grief all the peace I will ever get?
Hi, I am so glad you reached out and posted here. Thank you for sharing how things are and also how they have been for you. How was it to write this out?
I’m so sorry to hear about the abuse you experienced throughout your childhood. You didn’t deserve it. It sounds so hard to have gone no contact and yet to still have times where your dad would reach out.
I’m so sorry too to hear of the recent loss of your dad. Losing a parent is always a world shifting event and losing a parent who struggled with alcoholism can become even more conflicting. It sounds a huge decision to have gone to see him and I imagine it must have taken a lot of bravery too in making that decision.
It is a difficult thing to sit with someone whilst they are passing, more so when our memories of that person are painful. I can hear what you’re saying when you write that you’re not sure if it was strength or survival that made you choose to be kind. Although it does sound as though you were able to find your own boundary of who you wanted to be in that moment, and there is huge courage in that.
It’s okay to not forgive him, is one of the first things I want to reassure you on. You were placed into such a challenging position in visiting him in that moment and it’s okay to not be sure how you feel from it right now. Numbness following grief can be a very normal, and very human, response. There really is no wrong or no right way to feel, and sharing your emotions is so important, however they look.
This is grief which is still so fresh for you, do you have support around you at the moment? You are deserving of places to share your honest thoughts and feelings. I hope you can know that you can always share them here too.
Nacoa’s helpline is open to you too, you’re welcome to email or call and have space to talk things through and to be heard in how you’re feeling. They can also, if you’d like, signpost you to local agencies for grief and support.
Thank you again for sharing as much as you have. You aren’t alone, truly. Please do continue reaching out, and writing, if you find it helps. You don’t have to navigate this alone, and I hope that within that you can begin to explore how peace might look for you.
Kindest Wishes,
Listener