Facing Loss and Lingering Questions

This is a bit of a late post, as I’ve been debating whether or not to share it. However, in the interest of full transparency, I’ve decided to go ahead and post it.

Lately, I’ve been struggling to maintain focus. I was recently prescribed medication intended to help, and while it takes a bit of the edge off, the effect is minimal. The prescription has already been changed, so I’m hopeful the new one will be more effective.

Coping with the loss of my father has also been challenging, especially over the past month. This was my first Veterans Day without him, and it didn’t feel right. I can’t help but wonder what Father’s Day will bring. A part of me—the little boy inside—clings to the unresolved pain of growing up without a strong father figure. My dad and I only had about three years together before he passed, and I feel like I’ve been robbed of the time we should have spent making up for lost years.

I used to carry immense anger toward him. I would seethe with frustration thinking about all the times I needed a father, and he wasn’t there. Over time, I’ve come to realize that I had the opportunity to be a better son as well—and I failed at that. When he passed, my anger wasn’t directed at him for our past; it was rooted in his leaving so soon. I was angry that he entrusted me with the heart-wrenching decision to take him off life support. I was angry that he let his health deteriorate in silence, dying slowly at home before seeking medical care. I was angry that he hadn’t refilled his heart medication for six months.

That anger has since faded, replaced by questions. Why did he let it all happen? Did he settle into rural Oklahoma and decide that his kids weren’t the people he wanted in his life? Was it stubborn pride that went too far? Was it the grandchildren he cherished, or perhaps the one he never had the chance to meet? These are questions I may never have answers to, but they linger nonetheless.