Dear Diary,
Today, I brought my father back home. It seems like a trivial thing, except for one detail: I brought my father’s ashes home. My father passed away many years ago, but I still harbor some emotions. Not so much about his death, but about his illness. His disease took away his coordination and ultimately masked the tumor that unexpectedly took his life.
What I grapple with is the way this illness broke my father’s spirit more than his body. My reaction, perhaps, wasn’t the noblest as I couldn’t bear to see my father so “weak.” It may be guilt or compassion, but the memory of my father losing hope, possibly feeling abandoned, being needy, and requiring attention…how does this make me feel? Hopeless, in some ways? Sad, very sad. Hopeless. Angry. I’m not sure. Maybe forgiveness is key once again. To forgive others so I can forgive myself for having human emotions and human flaws.