My father actually died at ninety-five. He was iNNn top notch shape.For example he only had two teeth filled in his lifetime and his facilities were as sharp as ever. He went to the rest home at ninety four because he had begun to fall. Sadly, some of this was social alcoholism

One of the things I did for him was to inform the staff, he would need to detox.

A wiry man, he was also well known for his achievements. He started the first rodeo club in Nebraska, flew his own plane, owned a race car, and was a champion roper. Proud of his accomplishments,my father always said he wanted people to celebrate his life when he died.

In lieu of his success, he and I had a contentious relationship. He took it out on me because my mother insisted that I be closer to her. Also, after mom died, he remarried a woman who had been married five times. He put her wishes before his kids. He gave the car he bought for me, to her. He let her wear my mother’s clothes, he made me pay for my wedding but her in charge of how I would plan my wedding. I was so angry I moved in with another woman who was my surrogate mother. Living with my father and his second wife was deeply maddening and painful. Both were narcissists

Because of my father’s reputation of being the best at everything. Dad set his children aside. He was narcissistic and bigger than life. I always feared his death ; It was like he was a scary, critical God. A god that made me feel no bigger than an ant crawling in the dirt. I was powerless to know him because my mother hated him. Sadly, he did nothing to help my guilt He made me feel that it was my fault for being her babysitter. He let me take care of her ( she suffered serious depression committing suicide.) During this time he had affairs. After he married the second wife, I was told to bug out. I was in college and needed him.

As the yesrs passed our relationship was either tumultuous or sweet. I hope this gives the reader a look at our dynamics as father and daughter. The healing between us came when he went to the rest home I cared for dad , visited him, planned a cheerful Christmas for him, and was his intermediary with doctors. My father actually told me that I was not the daughter he thought I was. His wife told him that I did not love him. Sadly, he chose to believe this garbage.

Jumping ahead, Dad had kidney failure and went into a coma. Then cane the hour my sister and I were told the end was imminent.

When we were sure the hour had come, I suddenly took charge. I went to his bedside and told him i would see him in heaven where we would dance. I told him I would see that his wife was cared for, I thanked him for being my father and last i told him he could pass on.if he wished. I said that it was alright to go. Incredibly he opened his eyes and said, “Bye bye” and my name. Knowing he would not die if anyone was there, I left the room.

He died fifteen minutes later.

I felt at peace about our final encounter and final year. I did not cry. Our fiery encounters were over. I felt at ninety five. he had lived a long and fulfilling life. And, for once, i felt like a woman. The part that amazed me was his riding up out of a coma to say goodbye. What more could I have asked for as my father passed on?