To Everything There Is A Season

A few days ago, I got a call from a cousin on my biological father’s side stating that Tom (my bio dad) had a large mass in his throat, and that the outcome looked dire. Last night, Tom’s sister, my Aunt Mary Catherine, called to confirm the news. He has stage 4 throat cancer. The outcome is indeed dire. She wasn’t sure which treatment options he was going to choose, but really, regardless of the course of treatment, his cancer will eventually be terminal.

I haven’t spoken to Tom in over 17 years. The last time I saw him, was at Christmas my senior year of high school. We had been growing apart (to put it nicely) for years prior to that Christmas visit. Neither my sister nor I saw him more than a few times a year, and when we did see him, it was always uncomfortable to say the least. Tom has been a mean and bitter alcoholic for as long as I have been alive, probably longer. He took out all of his own insecurities, his own shortcomings on everyone around him, and never accepted responsibility for his own life course. I have a few good memories of him. He had the potential to be a good father, a good husband, a good person, but he wasted that potential. Instead, he chose self-pity and anger, and directed all of his mental anguish outwardly at anyone who tried to get close to him. He systematically destroyed every meaningful relationship in his life. Now, in his mid-50’s (I don’t even know how old he actually is!), he is dying, nearly completely alone.

I asked Mary Catherine how his demeanor was. She said that he is the same Tom he has always been, spitting nails and breathing fire at everyone around him, including the hospital staff. She didn’t feel that he had changed at all, even when faced with his own impending death. In fact, she said that she didn’t know if she herself would be there for him when he dies, depending on how he chose to treat her.

At first, I really didn’t know what to do with the information about his illness. Am I to go to his side to try to make up for a lifetime of lost opportunities? Sorry, but no way. I don’t want to do that, and it certainly doesn’t sound like he would want me there. Am I to feel sad about his death? As terrible as that sounds, I don’t feel sad. I don’t even know him. His passing will make little difference in my life. Am I terrible for feeling that way? I have often thought that I would probably one day read about his death in the paper, and I had wondered how I would feel about it. When my aunt called me, she said that she did not call to pressure me into rekindling a relationship with him, but rather called so that I didn’t read about his death in the paper, with no prior knowledge. I’m grateful that she called. I am glad to have to opportunity to decide how I want to approach his impending death before it happens, instead of wishing later that I had known and been able to do something.

I'm no longer angry about the things that happened in my childhood, but it took a great deal of work for me to find the peace I have today. It wasn't a resolution that came easily. For nearly a decade I struggled greatly to find serenity. It was a tumultuous time for me, and for those around me who helped me make my way through the darkness. I don’t blame all of the issues I faced on Tom, but I think that a large percentage of them had at least some roots leading back to him.

My concern now is what if I did not actually resolve anything. What if the harmony I think I have was really due to distance and not true resolution? Worse yet, if I didn’t truly deal with the issues at hand, then will being faced with him uproot those old emotions once more? The truth is, I really don’t want to have a relationship with this man, and I certainly don’t want my children to know him. I purposefully live a life which is the complete opposite of his. Our house is full of love and support. We visit often with one another, we do not cut each other down for our own benefit, and we don’t drink to excess. Should I reach out to this man who brought very little sunshine, and very much rain, into my life just because he is dying? Does he deserve our love after all of that?

I think that I have indeed found resolution. While I don't foresee an interaction with him being a happy and wonderful event, I think that I am mature enough at this point in my life not to take his anger personally. His issues are his issues, not mine. The true question for me now is not to act in a way that I think will bring either comfort or discomfort to Tom. It is not a matter of what he deserves. It is not my job to judge him. He will meet his maker soon enough, and it is up to him to make amends of his own free will. My concern is that I act in a way that 10 years from now, I will still feel good about the choice I made. Does that mean ignoring him? Although that would be the easier route right now, in my heart, I know that it is probably not the road I will choose. In order to be true to myself, in accord with all of my beliefs that people need one another, that everyone deserves a chance to right their wrongs, and that the bonds of family should never be broken, I need to reach out in some small manner, while still taking into account his wishes. I'm not sure just yet how I will go about that...maybe a card would be a good start.

My approach isn't really important. The important thing for me right now, to protect my own weary heart, is to keep my own emotions in check. That means knowing that whatever his response, favorable or not, it is his response, not mine. I am not responsible for his anger, his sadness or his loneliness. I did not put him in the position he is in today, and I will not be made to feel guilty for his circumstances. I think it is a real possibility that a card could make him angry. My sister said that she could see him saying to us, even on his death bed, “Oh sure, you come around now when I’m dying. A little late, don’t you think?” I can see that too, and from how my aunt has described his present mental state, there’s probably a good likelihood of getting such a bitter reaction from him.

Somewhere in the last decade I stopped being angry and instead started feeling sorry for Tom. He has missed out on the lives of his daughters and the birth of 3 grandchildren. His absence in my life was actually not a detriment to me. I had a wonderful father, and I told my aunt that when I talk about my "dad," I am referring to Terry, really my step-father. No amount of apologizing could ever make up for the time Tom wasted, and what Tom squandered, Terry embraced. Terry is the one who knows and loves us. Terry is the man my children know as "Pap." Terry is the one whose passing I will mourn.

Tom missed out on a lifetime of joy and laughter, and instead chose to live a life full of nothing but self-wallowing and hatred. Now, he has been given a death sentence at a very young age, without any length of time to make amends. Over the next few months, however long he has, I will pray for his soul. I pray that he finds peace, if not while on his time on earth, then after death. God knows it has been a long road for him.

As for me, I think I will turn his tragedy into something good. I have the chance to truly make peace with my relationship with Tom, with or without his blessing. I also have the opportunity to rekindle a relationship with my aunt. I really don’t know her, and I don’t know much about Tom’s side of the family, sadly. There are not many of my paternal relatives still living, and those who are living are in their 50’s and 60’s. My sister and I are the younger generation of Koelles and Andersons, and we’ve had no contact with anyone on Tom’s side for almost 20 years. This is a chance to get to know them. Indeed, it was always an underlying fear of Tom that kept me from pursuing any lasting relationship with Mary Catherine, and in some ways, his illness is for me a blessing, the door I needed to be opened to allow me re-entrance into that side of my family.

I leave you with Ecclesiastes 3, because I find it quite appropriate. To everything, there is indeed, a season, and I pray that in this last season of his life, Tom finds the ability to embrace, heal and build up that which he had broken down.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,and a time to gather stones together;a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;a time of war, and a time of peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8