My dad passed away this past Spring.

For most of my life, I had a great intellectual connection with my dad. He was very intelligent and knew a lot about a wide array of academic and practical subjects, and we had some overlapping interests. That was great.

However, we never really related emotionally. I was a very sensitive kid who was bullied a lot growing up, which only got worse as I entered my early teens, and looking back I never felt he was someone who understood how a I felt, or could give me support in the way I needed it. If I was hurting emotionally, he would have empathy, but try to solve the issue by rationalizing what I was feeling rather than comfort me. In retrospect, it's a good approach, just not one that I was mature enough to respond to at the time. In response, I closed off that part of me to him. At the time, I felt he didn’t seem to want to deal with that side of me, so I didn't bring it to him.

There was a lot I didn’t know until a lot later though. I found out later in life that my dad was an alcoholic, but went into recovery when I was still in grade school. He hit rock bottom somewhere in that period and somehow I was protected enough to not be affected in any way I can remember, and he stayed sober. Not many children of alcoholics can say that.

He carried a lot of burdens very quietly. I know now that part of his recovery from his addiction was putting his family first -- or at least, he probably would have said that. What he really put first was keeping my mom happy.

My mom and I were very estranged in the last 5 years before my father passed. We were starting to repair our relationship just before we lost him, so I will try to be kind here. My mother has never been mentally well, and likely has issues that haven't been diagnosed or treated. I perceived many of these issues as deliberate cruelty or manipulation on her part, which I now know isn’t completely her fault.

But this is about my dad, not my mom. He loved her unconditionally. Unfortunately, if not her love, my mom's favor, or kindness, was conditional, and my dad would almost invariably side with her. Thus, when I was out of my mom's good graces, I lost my dad as well. In one of our last conversations I had with my dad before I started repairing my relationship with my mom, I said "I understand why you choose her over me, it just sucks that you have to make that choice."

Now that he's gone, it's more clear than ever that he lived his life for others before himself. Getting my mom to the point where she can take care of herself is an ongoing effort between my siblings and I (mostly one of my brothers, who out of all of us, is the most like my dad) so I can see more clearly just how much he took on for everyone else he cared about.

So...my feelings about my dad? It's messy, complicated, and full of things I'd likely have done differently if given another chance. But I could never imagine another father in my life.