"I Don't Ever Want To See You Again!"

My Father's Last Words To Me.

I Don’t Ever Want To See You Again!

(My parents have lost a son)

 

            “I don’t ever want to see you again!” These words continue to echo in my head; “I don’t ever want you to come to my door, ever! You are not welcome here anymore! I don’t ever want to see you around here!”

            “I’m sorry, Dad, if I can never see you again – I’ll wait and see you in Heaven. Because I know you love the Lord too. even though you are angry with me over this.”

            “You’ll never see me there. I never want to go where you think you’re going to be. All that talk about faith in God. All that going to Church. You’re all alike. You say one thing, but you do another. You say you love me but now you do this to me! Look what you’ve done to your Mother and I. I don’t ever want to see you again! Now get out of here! Did you hear me? Get Out Of Here!!!

            “I love you Dad.”

            “GET OUT!!!!!”

Those were the last words I heard him say to me.

            Living just down the street, we were always at each other’s house. Often, he would stop and just try to chat until I worked him around to what he really needed. Usually he would only ask for the help from my strapping 26 yr. old son for labor, but quite often my expertise was needed to repair or help him some way on his 50 acre farm. At age 85, his imagination far exceeded his physical abilities. I tried never to make him have to ask for help, so when I sensed what was the problem, I would interject and let him know we could stop what we were doing soon and be right down to help him. All of my other siblings, and especially my brother Joe who lived a few towns away, would do the same for him and mom, as we were all cut from the same cloth. When ever they were in town, it seemed money and time were of no importance. But they were all living many hours away. And I was glad to be able to show him my love and respect. Of all the men I knew, I could only name a handful I respected as much or more than he.

            Yet, I crossed the line with them, because my parents had gotten too old. I know we all ignore or even deny our mortality and find it surprising how the years pass so quickly and the parts of this machine we call, ‘home’ and ‘body’, begin to slow down and fail. My dad has more self-will and is more stubborn than most. I have watched him struggle for hours to change out a handful of bolts on a tractor part before coming to me for additional strength and help. His pleas were a rare reward to me; that he would have the confidence and trust in me that I would never want repayment nor would I ever help him grudgingly, but as often as possible was delighted to help. I could see some shame in his face, though, each time he had to watch me do his work, but that was the love he had for me. To let me help him. To be His Son.

            Both my parent’s condition became critical as old age began to affect their judgment and ability to care for themselves. It was becoming very noticeable as they performed any easy tasks or like their driving for instance: My Mom, with Alzheimer’s seemed to enjoy a child-like approach to driving, happy-go-lucky, sometimes forgetting safety and rules, or where she was or why she was there; just enjoying driving down the highway. My Dad on the other hand was becoming unsafe. His eyesight failing, his reactions shot, hardly able to walk; he began to drive in a similar fashion, not always seeing on-coming traffic or the lines in the road. Displaying a new style road-rage, not aware of drivers around him; he would get angry and threaten to ‘punch their lights out’ or chase them down because they passed him when he didn’t expect it.

            Then as the NY winter settled in on us, and the cold began to nip at them, they decided to move to Fla. No warning, it just came to them, no house to go to, no family or friends. Not wanting any one to help them, was their only plan; “We just want everyone to let us live our own lives, our own way. We don’t want anyone telling us what to do!” Knowing their condition, all of us children tried in our own ways to discourage them. Some even offered to ride or drive with them. But every offer of help was flatly rejected. Both their doctors had counseled us to prevent them from ever getting behind the wheel of a car, and as the day of their leaving approached, we all knew this would be their last trip. Accidents, stranded, disoriented, lost, helpless, and alone; anyone could take advantage of them in their weakened state. Or, without trying, they would end up killing some innocent bystander.

            I had a moral choice to make. My desire to love and respect my parents, continuing to always ‘be there’ for them, to help and encourage them. Or to stop them from becoming the next statistic, denying them my support in this foolish, dangerous endeavor. Repaying their love by becoming (in their minds) a traitor. Undermining their wishes to be left alone and to be able to drive to Fla. I went so far as to disable their vehicles and took all their keys. How did I expect them to live; to make appointments, to et their mail, to get food, to take care of themselves? “What kind of a son would do this to his own parents?”

            After counseling with my wife, my Pastor and my siblings, I realized someone had to be the spearhead to thrust this mortal wound. I had to take upon myself the direction of their anger, pain, agony and fear. That way, the others would still have an open door to come and go and be a help to them and take up where I left off, where I once had a place. My parents have lost a son. I pray I have left room for others and still preserved these ‘Ones I Love’.

 

LSS

Author's Note

Time has not relented only thickened the stew I'm in.

Reviews

[Legion]

It may not seem like it now, but a stew will put meat on your bones. I feel your pain, but also sense a great strength within knowing that you are doing what is necessary even if they don't feel that way. I have just taken on the responsibility of caring for my 90 year old grandmother and 62 year old aunt. Their house burned down almost two weeks ago and they had nowhere else to go. I could put them in a "home", but neither want to go and I will not make them as long as I have the strength and means to take care of them. But I will not let them go about and do whatever they please either since neither of them are in the best of shape. I can understand your dilemma, but just know that you are doing the right thing. Not only for their sake, but for others that their situation may have caused problems for. Stand tall and know that they (in their hearts) still love you even if they don't necessarily act that way. Thanks for sharing and glad you could get that off your chest a bit.

[Elton Camp]

You surely did, not the easy thing, but the right thing. My father died five years ago at age 95 and reviled me right up to shortly before his death. It wasn't for anything I'd done to him, but a continuation of what he did from my birth. Just the same, we pursuaded him and my mother to move next door to us and helped them for years to live independently. His comment? "Moving here was the biggest mistake I ever made." Maybe he couldn't help being like he was.
Elton Camp

[Samuel Dickens]

You did the right thing. You showed how much you loved them, knowing it wouldn't get you any love in return. I've had similar things happen in my family, as has many of us, I think. My dad was bitter to the end about us taking away his car keys and putting him in an assisted living facility. The fact that he didn't stop for stop signs anymore and went to bed with food cooking on the stove didn't matter.
It'll all come out good one day, LSS. I truly believe that.