Finding Myself Around the Worries I Have About Dad

It’s currently almost 9 months after my Mom passed away. I’m an only child and my Dad has retired from his job. He did that because he wanted to rest after more than 25 years of service. And to spend those resting years with us.

We had our vacation planned for Canada. Our Visas were filed, completed, and approved.

Unfortunately, things took a turn. My Mom left us at the young age of 49. She passed away just 10 days after my birthday and just 2 days before my Dad’s 50th.

I don’t have a great relationship with my dad, I’ll get that out of the way. We never had the chance to get close to each other. Nor, did we ever try talking deeply without having the other person on edge.

This was a big incident that changed our lives completely and absurdly.

We each had our own way of coping with the loss. We never were the type to open up to each other. We don’t even talk much even after all that happened. But, we don’t hate each other. We were just more comfortable with each other around like this.

I still tell people that talking with him is not my favorite. Mom and I matched well. Me and Dad, not so much.

I like to describe my relationship with Dad this way:

We’re magnets with opposite ends.

But, after having experienced losing a parent or a loved one for that matter, I knew I had to adapt and replace the recipient of my love that I had so much of that I could have given to Mom to my Dad.

I swore in myself, at the top of my pyramid of priorities, my Dad would come as number 1. I wanted to take care of him because Mom cared for him and he was the only one I had left.

After the burial, it had to be days together in the same house. This would likely continue until I find someplace to stay on my own or with another family if the future permits me.

At this point, I keep getting worried about him. There are countless times where I’ve seen him not being the healthiest with his choices — From the foods and drinks he consumes to lifestyle decisions that are questionable to me.

Naturally, if I lost a parent I loved and I was left with my last parent, I would be extra concerned about them. Let alone if this parent has stressful lifestyle habits.

I remember this one guy on Instagram, he recorded a reel of himself talking about his grief of losing his father over 2 years ago. He mentions that his parents were relatively old when they had him, so as a child, he confessed to having the tendency to be afraid that his dad sleeping might mean that he was not breathing, so he would listen closely to his breath to reassure himself.

In my mind, as someone who studied psychology, if we’re going to apply behaviorism, his mind associated a sleeping dad with a lifeless person.

But, as an empath, I would say he loved his dad dearly to have thought of the checking if he was breathing thing because his thoughts dictated his actions.

I keep having almost related thoughts to the guy I saw on Instagram. I fairly agree to be anxious that one day, the same would happen again either to Dad or to me.

So, those are some things in mind right now that I’m fighting on. Adjusting with this new situation, dealing with my worries about Dad, I have perfected the balance of concern and letting it go.

I still have to remember to give myself the compassion I need and not to pile up on unnecessary and disabling thoughts. I can’t forget myself!

I had to become satisfied with where I was in between the process of caring and just letting him be. I need to be mindful that he is decades older than me, and he knows himself best and I should trust him on what he knows.

Letting go and staying on a balanced side wasn’t easy. I had to go through the stress and then be comfortable or accepting of how things are the way it is with him. Sometimes, it could be necessary for someone to obtain substance from experiences by going through the stages.

It was not a smooth ride getting to know each other. I learned through trial and error. I got through it while bonding on things I made a hobby so, we could have similar interests. Then, it would be easier to have something to talk about.

I had to discard my worries about him and care about living in the present. It wasn’t being selfish and it shouldn’t be regarded as a selfish act. I learned to love things I never thought of liking before and it made me sentimental on things that humans, like me could feel. I was reminded that there would always be room for enjoyment if we were to invite it.

Love others as you love yourselves, but love yourselves even harder.