My dad is in the hospital and I don't want to visit him
My dad is a difficult person to be around. He's mean and judgemental. He has a fragile ego that must be protected at all costs. He must be perceived as smart, funny and cool or else. According to him everyone is always doing him wrong, but also, he's never a victim because he's too tough for such whiny shit. He's 100% certain that whatever he thinks is absolutely right and righteous. If you disagree, you are one dumb fucker and you better prepare to be belittled or ignored for life (with a big grudge, of course).
He's certainly tiring to be around. That's why I'm no longer around him. We're not even on speaking terms. The last thing I heard him say out loud was "hang up the phone, hang up the phone now!" He yelled it to my mother while my mother and I were on the phone and I said something critical about how they'd treated me before. His last digital words to me were "the situation between us two is unbridgeable for now". Very pleasant conversations, as you can imagine.
It seems obvious that I'd get detached, but sadly nothing is further from the truth. My feelings towards my father are mixed and still get tangled up all the time. I want to stand up for myself, protect my boundaries and be at peace, but guilt keeps eating away at me. Guilt, pity and uncertainty.
How could I? I who have seen my father at his most vulnerable. The rare moments in which he seemed human. Sitting on his bed, crying, because his brother had died. Standing on the road, in distress and helpless, after a car crash abroad. Sulking in a hospital bed when he thought nobody was looking. How can I hate him after that?
Secretly my mother sometimes told me stories of his youth. He came from a poor household that was unable to feed all children. He was dumped in a care home for sick kids where he was abused. The nurses forced him to eat his own vomit. He was almost drowned. Sometimes as an adult, he is so afraid to go to a busy place, that my mother has to give him a xanax and softly coax him to go outside with her. He doesn't know that I know. With his pride, he'd set the world ablaze before letting anyone know this.
How I can blame him? This big, sad man towering over my youth. Bitter and traumatized, unknowingly causing identical wounds in me. I want to be angry, but how can I?
He doesn't contact me. I don't contact him. I imagine him, alone, scared, sad, feeling bad but having no way out due to the way he is, wishing he could have a good relationship with his daughter but unable to act upon it, wondering how it all came to this. It's so pitiful. Shouldn't I be giving him a little more grace? Shouldn't I try harder?
But is he actually sitting there, in a prison of his own making, longing for my presence? Am I imagining it for my own sake, hoping he cares for me after all? But why, when I'd love to rid myself of this guilt so badly?
I can't admit his mistakes in my head without also defending him. Yes, he never helped me with my schoolwork, but he also took me to the pool. Yes, he called me fat all the time, but he also played guitar for me. Yes, he ignored me for days, but he also took me to McDonalds. Yes, he punished me for being ill, but he also gave me art supplies. Yes, he misdirected his anger at me, but he also made jokes. Yes, he abandoned me whenever I needed him most, but he also played board games with me.
He never said 'sorry' or 'I love you', but that's just how he was raised, right?
He wouldn't be able to remember my birthday, my degree, the name of my company or any of my interests even if his life depended on it, but that's just forgetfulness, right?
He constantly degraded me and left me to fend for myself, but that was for my own good, right?
He filled my childhood with stress and sadness, but he did the best he could, right?
Right?
Two years ago I got injured. Some muscles failed, I herniated a disk in my lower back, the nerves to my leg got blocked, I fell. I'm still in rehabilitation. After many appointments with a physical therapist I can almost walk 3 kilometers again. I no longer depend on pain medication. Things could've been very bad, but instead I'm improving, fortunately.
I've heard from my dad once since my accident. In a belittling tone he told me: "life sucks for you and that's too bad." Right before that message he retired, inherited money from a family friend and started traveling to every place he'd ever wanted to see. Meanwhile I'm struggling with my medical bills without a word of support from him. Life sucks for me and that's too bad, eh?
Today I heard that my dad was brought to the hospital because of a heart attack. He's in the ICU. I cried when I saw the message. I thought long and hard and then cried some more.
I won't be visiting him. I wish I did it with satisfaction or out of revenge, but I can't, no matter how hard I try. I'm doing it with a heavy heart, burdened by guilt and sadness. Am I crying for his suffering, or am I crying because it's hard to let go of our troubled relationship? Am I sad that he might die, or am I sad because I hate being seen as the ungrateful, petty, lazy, unsympathetic daughter by the one who chose to create and raise me? I don't know, but I have time to work through it and figure that out for myself.
Either way, my dad will be in the hospital, and he will be there without his only child.