I'm in, and thanks.
My Mother and Father divorced when I was 9. It was a very bitter and violent separation. I may have seen my father twice when growing up(there were extenuating circumstances). My mother never remarried, so there was really no male figure in my life.
When I got older, I found my father, and tried to get to know him.
Life, and a family of my own, got in the way of that, and we ended up with more of a friendship that a father/son type of relationship, mostly long distance.
Years later, my father developed lung cancer. He in Florida, and me in Virginia, and not much money either way. But I was able to visit him a couple of times.
One of the last visits was shortly before his death. As I left him, I knew the end was near, just a few weeks or months. He looked at me sadly and said, "I guess you won't be able to make it back when the time comes?"
I told him no, that I had come now so we could both remember each other, and spend what time we could while he was able.
One of the hardest things I ever did was part from him that day.
About 3 months later I got a call from my sister that Dad was on his deathbed, and if I wanted to come, now was the time. I told her I was not able, financially, but to tell him I loved him.
After a bit of frustration, I got in touch with someone I knew would probably loan me the money to make the trip, and headed down to Florida.
When I got there, Dad was in his living room on a hospital bed Hospice had brought in for him. He was asleep, and I stood by his bedside talking softly with my older sister about his condition.
He must have heard my voice, because his eyes slowly opened, and he looked up at me. He was unable to speak, but the look of joy and pride in his eyes when he saw my face there at his side is something I will never forget. Very difficult to write about, even now, two years later.
I stayed with him to the end, held his hand and told him I loved him as he passed.
That was the greatest moment in our relationship, that look. I saw in the eyes of my father just how great his love for me was, and how proud he was of the man that I had become. There was even a bit of, "I knew you'd get here somehow, son", in there. No words were spoken, but none were needed. That look said everything that needed to be said.
James Baker
My Mother and Father divorced when I was 9. It was a very bitter and violent separation. I may have seen my father twice when growing up(there were extenuating circumstances). My mother never remarried, so there was really no male figure in my life.
When I got older, I found my father, and tried to get to know him.
Life, and a family of my own, got in the way of that, and we ended up with more of a friendship that a father/son type of relationship, mostly long distance.
Years later, my father developed lung cancer. He in Florida, and me in Virginia, and not much money either way. But I was able to visit him a couple of times.
One of the last visits was shortly before his death. As I left him, I knew the end was near, just a few weeks or months. He looked at me sadly and said, "I guess you won't be able to make it back when the time comes?"
I told him no, that I had come now so we could both remember each other, and spend what time we could while he was able.
One of the hardest things I ever did was part from him that day.
About 3 months later I got a call from my sister that Dad was on his deathbed, and if I wanted to come, now was the time. I told her I was not able, financially, but to tell him I loved him.
After a bit of frustration, I got in touch with someone I knew would probably loan me the money to make the trip, and headed down to Florida.
When I got there, Dad was in his living room on a hospital bed Hospice had brought in for him. He was asleep, and I stood by his bedside talking softly with my older sister about his condition.
He must have heard my voice, because his eyes slowly opened, and he looked up at me. He was unable to speak, but the look of joy and pride in his eyes when he saw my face there at his side is something I will never forget. Very difficult to write about, even now, two years later.
I stayed with him to the end, held his hand and told him I loved him as he passed.
That was the greatest moment in our relationship, that look. I saw in the eyes of my father just how great his love for me was, and how proud he was of the man that I had become. There was even a bit of, "I knew you'd get here somehow, son", in there. No words were spoken, but none were needed. That look said everything that needed to be said.
James Baker
