With My Father (for now!)

Ben and baby Ollie visit Papa's Rock.

My father and I spent the first night of my last visit in the emergency room. His pain had pulled us both from the soft comfort of sleep. A clot in his catheter again. I followed the ambulance from his home to the hospital, where I sat at the foot of his bed. I winced with him as a doctor drew the catheter and the thumb-sized glob of blood within it from his penis. I considered his shrunken body as he dozed. I struggled to follow his thoughts and answer his questions each time he opened his eyes: How did you feel when I started seeing Pat, after your mother died? … Second chance at a better husband … You remember what I’ve told you? … I won’t live without dignity ... I won’t be a burden … We’ll move someplace where they let you die and I’ll stop eating … When the time comes … 

This is all I'm choosing to share of this essay for the time being. It goes on to deal with my relationship with Dad over time, much of it grounded in the woods, and, ultimately, his suicide. My intention is to address this aspect of my family's story directly and honestly—but only after engaging in conversation with family members first.

(What now? You can jump to the top of this page, go back to the My Stories index—or read the next story!)