How does one say Goodbye?

When death comes knocking at someone we loves door, what is the appropriate way to handle it? What words are the right words to say, and what words will we regret in years to come?

How does one formulate their last words for someone they love?

When is the appropriate time to sit down and think about what everyone in your life truly means to you?

At the age of sixteen, I was gripping the little life that was left out of my father’s hand, as he lay still in that hospice bed. The smell of that room will forever haunt me. The smell that would forever change my life. That room. That room was not a room to me, but more of a war zone. Not in the context of guns and violence but every time I came near that room I was forced to sit down and fight myself on what to say, how to act for my family, and how to become that strong girl I was always told to be. It felt like a constant battle. Those four walls was where my father left his life behind to embark on a new journey. A journey that would take him away from me, but also away from the pain and reality of the life he tried so hard to escape from.

As I was told to say goodbye to the only man who ever showed me how truly beautiful I am, or how smart I am; midst me believing otherwise, I could not muster up anything. I felt helpless. The only man to truly mean his “I love you, darling” will be gone, and his voice would be nothing more than a silence I long to fill. But, how does a father let alcohol take this all away from him? His family, his friends, his job, and now, his life? How does a father of twin daughters choose to hold a bottle of alcohol rather than their little hands which desperately reached up too him? How does a father choose to drink to the bottom of a bottle rather than explore the beauty that surrounds him? Most importantly, how is it that his daughter was scared to death to be alone with him, but at the same time, she wanted nothing more than her daddy to hold her and tell her “everything is going to be alright”?

Back as a child, alcohol was a curse word to me. It was a word that made every nightmare I endured, constantly reappear.  I understood what alcohol was, I knew the effects, and I knew the troubles that arose every time he took another deadly sip, all as just a child. That sip led to me having to speak to my father for one last time as the cirrhosis slowly stole his life away from him, and slowly stole a piece of me that I was not ready to give up.

So, what does one truly say, as she says goodbye? “I love you!” “I miss you?” Are they substantial enough to be the last words to the man who was supposed to be there forever? He was supposed to see my high school proms, my graduation, and even walk me down the aisle one day. Now, those will never be. They will all be a distant dream that will never be fulfilled. I would have never pictured at sixteen years old I would be trading in football games for hospital visits, homework for goodbyes, and smiles for tears that seemed to never cease.  

All of this because of one too many mouthfuls of a beverage whose evil sits at the bottom of the bottle waiting for its next victim to consume it. My life turned upside down for the satisfaction that alcohol provided. A satisfaction that nothing else could fulfill, not even his own children.

So, what does one say as their final words to a part of them that will forever be gone? A father who gave up his life at forty-two years old. A father who had the whole world left to conquer and yet, it conquered him just a bit too early and left me dreading those few holidays that are spent looking through photo albums rather than being face-to-face. Those few holidays that leave me feeling empty as I reminisce about his goofy laugh and vibrant smile; the same smile that is reflected back at me every time I look in the mirror. The smile that keeps me strong and reminds me to never follow in those same footsteps.

As I sit alone reflecting on what to say, a million ideas flood my head. Yet, none of it will truly ever be enough, and now, none of it really matters.

 

Author's Note

I gladly welcome all feedback, just let me know truthfully of anything you like or what i can fix.

Reviews

[Devine Miss C]

*Please note - I am trying not to assume that you are describing your own life in this piece. If my review implies that in anyway I apologise.

The irony that I sitting here reading this as I sip a glass of wine knowing I am the same age as the father talked about in this story. I can relate to your story on a very personal level. While it was alcohol that took this father from his children, depression was what took my mother from me.

Even as you talk about alcohol and the hold it had over the father and how you question why a father would choose it over his children, I don't feel any anger coming from you over the situation, just acceptance. Not that there is anything wrong with that, not at all.

For me I was as angry as hell. Not at the disease, but at her. Still am, its been less than a year. I have refused to write anything about her dying because it still makes me angry. The anger, the grief and the stupidity of it all triggered my own depression earlier this year and I while I am doing okay now, I am not yet ready to bring it all out on paper.

The child in this piece is searching for the words to say, yet I notice that not once do you mention forgiveness. While the piece doesn't sound angry in anyway at what is being lost, forgiveness is not one of the thoughts that you talk about. There is disappointment and sadness from the child at all the things that the father is going to miss out on, there is resolve not to follow in his footsteps, but in those final moments, is the child able to forgive him?

You don't say anything from the father's point of view, did he try to apologise for not being strong enough choose his children over the bottle? Was he sorry for all the things he wouldn't be able to do? all the things you mentioned, graduation, weddings, graduation etc.

If this was from your own life then I congratulate you on having the courage to share something I cannot yet. If not, then it was an insightful piece of a young lady having to face an incredibly difficult situation with the one person she idolises most in her life.