To Dad:
Farewell, with Gratitude
 
 
I’m recovering from the loss of my father.
But he’s no longer recovering. He’s cured.
He was recovering…for almost 35 years…from alcohol.
I was fortunate to have experienced two fathers in one body.
In my early teen years, his drinking worsened.
He frightened me, and I didn’t want to be like him.
However, there were things he gave me even during those early years.
He loved literature and music, and encouraged all his children in both interests.
And we’ve all continued to use those skills he cultivated.
I remember coming home from high school and playing classical records.
Not very typical for my age group,
but I guess a part of me always sought his approval.
How many children have the chance
To have their minds opened to the wealth of culture in the world?
Or to have the freedom to have unpopular beliefs?
When I was reading Ralph Waldo Emerson, the chapter on Self-Reliance,
I remember receiving an anthology of his selected writings,
I still have the book, inscribed: "With all good wishes" for my 17th birthday.
At 17 I left home, and went to college, making a new discovery:
Some of my beliefs were not as widely accepted in the world, as they were in our home.
I realized there was a security, an understanding, in the family.
When I was sixteen, the family broke up for 2 weeks.
He loved us enough to sober up and return.
For that I will remain forever grateful.
You see, I had the chance to have another father.
A father who was gentle and with a wisdom of what’s important in life.
He proved by living how our knowledge can be used to help others.
I could go to him with problems or difficult decisions.
He seldom told me what to do as I became an adult,
but he had a way of listening and saying things to help bring my indecision into focus,
Dad had a tremendous sense of humor too,
to go with his extensive knowledge and experience.
A sarcastic wit, leaving one with: Was that a joke or is he serious?
 
Now, I too am recovering from alcohol.
During his 35 years of sobriety I only know of two times that he wanted to drink.
As a father, it must have been painful to watch a son struggle with the same disease.
I know I am fortunate to have lived 51 years with both parents still alive.
Even though that length of time deepens the loss, many people don’t get that chance.
For those 51 years I am grateful.
They say that we live on in other’s memories.
Dad was never one to think much about the afterlife,
Believing that how we live here and now is the primary concern.
Dad put a lot of energy and time
into promoting the rights of minorities, even animals.
He lives on in many people’s good memories.
During those last days, as he lay starving in bed,
Blind, deaf, and speechless,
He continued to be an example of how to live life well.
The last day I saw him was on a Sunday, a week before he died,
I had been allowed out of the hospital on a pass.
I cried as I watched him patiently writing to the two neighbor kids who were visiting.
I had the opportunity to have a father I could be proud of,
I’m a lot like him, though more of an armchair activist.
No longer frightened…now I’m glad to be like him.
Yes, I had a father who I will miss for the rest of my life.
I will miss his love and support.
And for that I will always be grateful.
Farewell Dad, with all my Love and Gratitude.
 
Your son, Doug
 

© copyright doug young July 17, 2000

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