Father

Father

“We haven’t had enough time,” I whispered under my breath while standing in that hospice wishing my father could speak to me. I could see the expression on his face, and I could tell he wanted to say something so badly, but his body was so broken down from the cancer that he could not speak.

I have never seen my father so afraid in my life. I’ve seen him aggravated but never so afraid. He would go on and on about the government or have an outburst about a frustration but that would be it. It was kind of funny, and so my brother and I would laugh. He would within five minutes start laughing with us because our laughter was contagious to him. He was a man that could never stay mad. He was the nicest, kindest, and most gentle man I have barely known.

He loved my mother though. She was his first and only love. My father never dated after she left him when I was five years old except for one woman for one month and this woman looked exactly like my mother. When my mother left him, it was like something died inside of him and she never recovered either. She turned to drinking and married a military man who was not a very nice person and even more he hated kids. This man not only hated kids, but he also hated female kids. He was emotionally, physically, and mentally abusive more to me than anyone. I grew up very alone and sad. A scariness that I almost never recovered from.

In my childhood, I had no father. In my adulthood, I was finally given back what was lost from his pain, and I was looking forward to really connecting with him but instead there I stood watching him die and the only thing going through my head was, “it is not fair, I did not get enough time, I needed more time.”

Pancreatic cancer is a tricky thing. It is what is considered the “Silent Killer” and most of the time it is to late when it is discovered. They thought they caught it early enough is what he told me. There are trials and studies and there is a chance he could beat it he swore. My heart still dropped and much like when I had taken care of my mother when she had a sure death heart attack only 5 months prior, all I wanted was to go to him and be there for him. I wanted to take care of him. I didn’t want him to die alone. Then there were also selfish reasons like, I wanted to know him. But in my argument to come stay with him, he got angry with me and wouldn’t respond to me for weeks.

My mother explained that that was just who he was. He was a very private man who had always been a loner. He kept to himself, he didn’t know how to let someone close to him, and therefore she left all those years ago.

“But doesn’t he know how much I love him, and I just want to be close to him and care for him?” I would cry.

“He is just not built that way sweetheart. I am sorry baby,” she would respond.

Eventually my father and I would reconceal though. I promised him that I would give him his space and that I would call him only every Sunday. I enjoyed our talks every Sunday. There were a couple Sundays he was unavailable, and I would worry until I knew he was ok. The doctors had him always doing a lot of tests, then blood transfusions, and then finally one Sunday when I could not reach him for a week, I found out he was in the hospital. He swore again he was ok. He sounded ok but, that was just him pretending again because he didn’t want me to worry.

The morning I received the phone call from my brother was so surreal. He was informing me that our father was not doing well. The doctor had told him that there was nothing they could do and that we needed to come soon so that we could help him move into a hospice and just make him comfortable. My brother and I both agreed that he would go to him right away and be there on Sunday, and that I would join him on the following Wednesday after a job I was going to do helping a friend paint their house. So, I went to the airport to fly to Louisiana to help my friend that Saturday before the Sunday my brother was supposed to arrive in Georgia where my dad was. It is amazing how angels’ step in and make important things happen because I had a layover in Dallas, and I was stuck there. There were no flights to Louisiana till Monday, and I was going to be sleeping in the airport for two nights. The airline was not even going cover expenses for a hotel. It was the last time I ever flew with them.

I had the crazy idea though and told the airline if they could send me to Georgia instead, I would go there. I felt like that would make up for everything, and they did. It was the only place they had authority to send people because there was snow and ice everywhere else. So I went to Georgia, arrived that night, my brother arrived the next day, the next day we put my father in a hospice, and then the next day he passed away early in the morning. If I would have made it to Louisiana, I would have missed seeing my father before he passed away. People can say whatever they want but, things do happen for a reason, and I am forever grateful for that.

My father passed away a man that was alone. I sometimes wonder if he would do things the same if he had the chance. When my brother and I cleaned out his home, the place was in such a way that resembled a man who had given up. It really broke my heart. In my head I kept wondering if I should have just shown up at his door, what could he say to that? Would he really be able to turn me away? Maybe I should have pushed harder? Or was I doing right by him for respecting his wishes? These are all things that still trouble me today but for a very long time threw me in such a state of depression that I could not see my way through it. I finally started expressing myself a little, but I am honestly my father’s daughter and I internalized it more than anything. It was eating me alive.

It was not until Thanksgiving when I could barely move that I realized I needed help. I spoke with a doctor, and I decided it would be good for me to start taking something, a special medication for anxiety and depression. I thought to myself, “well, I still have anxiety from my failed marriage and my depression was so bad that I was worried for my life.” I agreed and it has been very helpful. I can see light through the tunnel of life. I was able to focus a little better and my anxiety has completely disappeared. For this, I am grateful.

I miss my father. I have his urn in my living room, and I take it on trips with me when I go on the road in the conversion van that in a way, he bought for me. We travel together and I look forward to taking him with me on future adventures. See, my dad may have been a loner, but he worked very hard to make sure that when he passed away my brother and I would have a little something to make life a little easier on us. He gave up his dream of a music career, of traveling the country, and his freedom to give to us. For this, I am so grateful for him.

I would give it all back in a heartbeat for one tiny conversation with him: just one more conversation with my father. What kind of a man gives up his dreams, especially when they have so much talent? My mom would say to me all my life that he sang like the birds. One of my favorite memories of my dad, my brother, and I is when we were very little before my parents separated, he recorded us singing Stevie Wonders, “I Just Called to Say I Love You” and how I yelled at the top of my voice in the end, “CHA, CHA, CHA!”

Beautiful Memories I break down cry from when I think of it and all the music equipment that I had to get rid of that neither my brother nor I had room for but that was his entire world. What kind of a man gives up his dreams for his children? A good man. My father was a very good man. I am proud to call him my father and although we did not get as much time together in this life, my hopes are that I will see him once again and we will pick up where we left off like there was no time gone by at all. I am the only woman in his life that ever got as close to him as I was able to. He was a complicated man, but I loved him just the way he was.

My father was cremated after he passed. There was no service because he would have not wanted one. I know this to my core as much as I know that one day when my mother passes away, I will get strange looks showing up for her service in a long flowy red dress and balloons in my hand to celebrate her life. I am grateful my mom came back to life when she was pronounced dead from her sure death heart attack. I know someone up there kept her here because I needed her. I am grateful for this, these little miracles that happen because in dark times there needs to be a light.

I have a beautiful family; my mom, my mama, my papa, my aunt, and uncle and their two children, and my brothers. I have a best friend who flew to Georgia just to drive back to Las Vegas with me because she cared about me. Having these blessings has made me realize that I have so much, so many blessings. It has made me realize that people need people and that it is ok to need other people. This is the reason why we are here, to make connections and be here for each other.

I see my father in my dreams. He is happy and loves me. He wants me to follow my heart and my dreams. This is what I think about when I get sad and miss him. I look forward to taking him to the coast where the beach is, travel around in my conversion van and travel trailer like the little hippie he was, and I am at heart. In a way he is always with me, and I am grateful.

-Angela Gerber

“For Steve Gerber, may you rest in peace dad. I love you.”