My father died twenty-two years ago this month. I was just a kid in 2nd grade and his death was a total shock to me, when it didn’t have to be. I didn’t have time to prepare to try to make peace with it and I carry around some resentment because of that.
When he went into the hospital months before his death I was told he just had a bad cold. We talked on the phone but I never went up to physically see him. He never wanted me to see him in the condition he was in apparently. I didn’t know it at the time but my dad suffered from a serious disease that did not have great treatments back then. My parents may have thought they were protecting me but I was never prepared for his death, I just came home from school one day and was told he passed or more accurately that “god called him home.”
I’m not sure if things would be different had I known how sick he was and that he could die, but it bothers me that they just allowed him to be ripped from me unexpectedly when they knew death was a very real possibility. I was blindsided, I was confused, and angry. They all had time to prepare themselves. His family had come from out of town to be with him in the months and weeks leading up to his death, my mom of course had plenty of time with him, this did not happen overnight.
The fact that they all got a chance to say goodbye, to somewhat brace for what was to happen, while I was just left to be hit by the grief tsunami with no warning is something that bothers me now as an adult. My mom said I wouldn’t have understood but I have read articles about this and they suggest you prepare children its the past and I can’t change it but its something that has been on my mind.
Maybe it would have been easier if I could have hugged him one last time or even said goodbye while he was still living and not to his body after he’d already passed. I understand their reasons but I don’t accept them and so this is a resentment I carry.