Monday, August 27, 2007

Letting go of Richard White.


The end of last week was good.. I talked with my girlfriend, I mean really talked, we had dinner, we spent some time together. I took a day trip down to Tybee Island, GA, with a good friend on Saturday. I spent the afternoon with my family on Sunday. It ended this morning, when I learned that my biological father, Richard White, had passed away. 10 months ago.

Now, let me say that I really never knew Richard very well. He and my mother split up when I was a toddler, and I never really met him until I was in my early 20's. For whatever reason, that side of my family never contacted me until then.. I met Richard at my parent's high school reunion. I learned that he was happily married, with two strapping sons and a beautiful daughter. I learned that he had a brother, whom I met and liked very much. I visited his home and family a couple of times after that, but we never really stayed in touch. We'd talk on the phone every couple of years.. that dropped off altogether back in 2001. I learned in 2005 that Richard had suffered a stroke, and I spoke to my grandmother a few times after that. His stroke was of such a magnitude that he didn't remember anyone and was unable to talk or walk. I wanted to visit, but couldn't quite bring myself to. It brought up such an odd combination of emotions, a flood that I never quite understood, and was unwilling to face.. and I just didn't.

My Dad (mom married him after the divorce from my biological father, and he adopted me) had told me on several occasions.. more like insisted, actually.. that I try to talk to Richard as much as I can. He tried to emphasize the importance of knowing your parents, of talking to them and spending time with them. He lost his own father to WW2 when he was very young, and I think he always felt the loss of not knowing him. I think I'm just beginning to realize what he was talking about. I think I'll know much better as time goes on.

I'm not sure what I feel right now.. it's hard to separate one thing from another. I do feel grief, and loss, but I'm having difficulty discerning exactly why, when we were never close. I never even called him Dad. And I'm angry that his mother (my grandmother) never called me to let me know that his condition had worsened, or that he had died.. and I'm not sure why, because I certainly made no more effort to keep in touch and check on him on my own. And because of that, I'm guilty. And I'm so sorry that we didn't talk more, that we didn't visit.

I love my family.. but I didn't love him enough when I could have. Now I've got to try to let go of someone I never made much of an effort to hold onto in the first place.