Death of a parent

I know the drill too well. The patient lands in the hospital, recovers, something else goes wrong and he lands in the hospital again.
Dad has been in and out three times in a week and now they have him at a rehab center. Ugh! Its a nice way to say nursing home.

I always said nursing homes aren't gateway to Hell but you could see the front door from there.
but this blog isn't about nursing homes, its about death.

My dad and I were never close. It sucks, it isn't that he was abusive or drunk. He never drank, and i am sure he did his best with a daughter he had no clue how to raise. His mom was closed off and cold. The oldest of three brothers, dad had no real experience with how to deal with women.
He wasn't real affectionate, when I told him a hug a day was vital to mental health, he would respond with "maybe you'll get two tomorrow."
He never said where the source of the hugs would come from.

He was critical, real critical. I was already insecure and unsure of myself, add this to a birth defect that kept me alienated from my peers, and constant criticism was a devastation to me.
I went to work once and opened up to a co worker about him.
she said "It sounds like he's always knocking you. It's hard to like someone who's always knocking you."

I hate to sound like a whiner, but talking to him was like being on a job interview. I always called to wish him a happy birthday or father's day at times when he wasn't home so I could just leave a message. I tired to be closer, but the personalities just didn't mesh.

As he got older, and he was showing signs of dementia, we got along better.
I joked with my hubby and son about it.
We laugh, but they both know what I'm really saying.

We talked while he was in the hospital.
I am conveniently located out of state, so I can stay safely on the phone.
He told me he loves me, and he was really supportive of my family and our future endeavors.
Now I know how sick he really is.

Mom tells me he cries, he hates being helpless and feeling worthless.
I know the feeling.
I've called mom several times and we talk. He could on a few more years this way, but I hope death is merciful. He will die soon with dignity rather than be bed bound and sick. He is confused at times and he describes the lunch room at the home to be "creepy".
He sits next to people who say nothing for 45 minutes.

They have nothing to say. the train is about to make its last stop and they need to review their lives and get right with God, before its time to disembark.

I am calling mom a lot, as I want to support her.
Dad I hope will go to Heaven soon. I don't mean to sound harsh, but the reality is, mom is over 80 herself, and she can't care for him.

For me, I will treasure the last conversation we had. Dad was the loving father I always wanted.