With Father’s Day just yesterday it reminded of a sad moment in my life that I think I have lived to regret.
In November 2015 I wrote a post called Do I See My Father Before He Dies? I poured my heart and soul out on that post. I wrote it within days of him passing away, I have to point out that I saw him the day he died after being estranged from him for about 15 years so the shock of seeing him in a coma like state was hard to bear.
My father and I had no relationship to speak of, but he was my biological father and that is a bond that is strangely very strong, even if you have no daily relationship or in my case, zero relationship.
About a week ago I was working at a maisonette where I happened to be working at the same time that I was working when I saw my father before he died, but there is a part of the story that I never told at the time which happened after he died. It concerned my father’s wife and how she showed a total lack of compassion towards me and how hurtful she was to me.
Although I had been given the opportunity to see my biological father before he died, which in truth only happened because pressure was applied to his wife from family members. The truth is I didn’t even know he was that close to death because apparently she had told everybody I was not to be told. Looking back now, how evil is that? What happened next, after my father died, proved to me that there truly are evil, nasty people in the world. That may sound harsh, but it’s true and I will explain why.
Yes, I was given the chance to see my father before he died, but what happened a day or so later I still look back on with utter disbelief. I never realised that people could be so totally devoid of any compassion. Also lacking the courage to tell me to my face.
A family member phoned me to say that it would not be a good idea for me attend my father’s funeral. I’m not sure exactly what his relationship was to me I think it may be step brother-in-law, but my fathers wife had refused to talk to me, (yes we have a history, whole different blog post.) I did have a little bit of sympathy for him because he was stuck in the middle.
So after the phone call finished, I stood in disbelief that if I attended my biological fathers funeral I would not be welcome. I know that obviously I could have gone and nobody could stop me from paying my respects, but I didn’t need the pain and grief that could easily be put upon me and then being asked to leave.
I decided after a couple of days of very intense thinking that I was not going to pay my last respects to my father. A couple of years on I kind of regret that I didn’t go. I didn’t find the courage to say no I’m Going, I have every right to be there, but I bottled it.
I only hope that I have never treated or treat people with a total lack of compassion, like the way that I was treated during this time. The world truly has some people that are simply not nice and I have met one.
As I have written many times before, my relationship with my father was messed up and actually broken when I was a small child, and it never really mended, but he was still father and I was denied the right to say my last goodbye.
A point that was made to me, by this particular family member though was that they would contact me a few weeks after the funeral to show me where my father was buried. Needless to say I never heard a word. People actually don’t care.
I would love to hear your thoughts.