This one was a slow departure. When I look back, I can't pinpoint when he left. Was it when he stopped giving me piggy-back rides? When he lost interest in us? Or did we lose interest in him? When I grew old enough to be able to perceive his characteristics through my own eyes? No matter when it happened, it did happen. And as he lies in the ICU, in a coma, I feel nothing.
When he ceases to be present, will there be a difference? He has been in the past for a long time. Eighty-six years of existence. Of affecting others' lives. Some for the better, most for the worst. I look at her, at her fear, her constant worries, her inability to speak up, and I blame him. She describes herself as feeling cold after their first date. And yet her father advocated for him, and so it was. He was successful once. A lawyer, accountant, tax attorney. A seven-room office, regal furniture. And yet no bills were sent out. That should have been the first warning sign. But it continued. The situation growing exponentially out of control. Until we end up here - the older son expatriated (though not willingly), the younger son liable to leap out of control at a moment's notice. The middle son tries to hold the pieces together. But it is hard. There is a lot to hold together.
The white-haired man is lying there. Does he think? I would like to think so, but they don't know. Too long without breathing before they inserted the respirator. We will wait.
I feel nothing because I blame him. Blame him for a disjointed, miscommunication-replete family. I should be sad, understand that it's the appropriate emotion. Yet if the emotions are not there, I cannot force them. The nothing I feel is a calm lake - no ripples, peacefulness. Perhaps it is his wake. A boat's wake is full of turmoil. Most people's are upon their departure. Yet his ride caused so many ripples, his wake will be smooth. A handful of contradictions surround him. Poor yet rich, successful yet destitute, intelligent yet short-sighted, religious yet narcissistic.
It will happen. The official departure. Yet I said good-bye years ago. As I grew, the distance grew, the connection stretched thin. It is too thin now. No chance for reparations. Only hazy stories. From when I was young. They will be told some day. And I will leave out the second half - the craziness, the irrationality, the narcissism, the criticisms, the misguided intent.
Everyone will leave physically, yet I am ready for him to leave wholly. To take all, leave nothing behind. Am I selfish for thinking like that? I will learn to forgive. But the time is not now.
