Across the world to say Goodbye

**Originally posted @LJ on 11/23/09**

On November 8th of this year, 12 years had passed since my father died.

This year, it all felt new again.
The wounds were fresh and not yet healed.
My heart broke all over again.
I cried. alot.

This year was different than every other November since his passing. This is the year I finally got to say goodbye.





My father's death was complicated and simple, all at the same time. It was avoidable and heart breaking.
My mom met my father through her brother, my uncle. They were best friends until the day he died. They went through alot together, knew each other like nobody else did.
My uncle was a heroin addict for most of his life.. in and out of prison. you wouldn't know it by looking at him, but he is the most friendly and charming man you'd ever meet.
The year of my dad's death, my uncle was in a halfway house.. which was nothing unfamiliar to him. Though, at this time, he was not using, since he was on probation.
He called my father (who was just a sign painting, occasional drinking, non-drug using, traveling hippie) to go to an outdoor concert with him. My uncle told me that he ended up carrying my dad toward the end of the night because of the pain he was in.
(See, my dad was a sign painter. I guess that's where mine and my brother's artistic side comes from. One day, he fell backwards off a ladder onto the street.. the ladder fell on top of him and broke both of his legs. They never healed properly, and he was in constant pain. He was taking prescription pain medication, but evidently it was not enough.)
After the concert, my dad and my uncle went to my uncle's girlfriend's house for the night.
They had some drinks.. my uncle Steve fell asleep and my dad asked his girlfriend for stronger drugs.. his legs were hurting too much.

She gave him heroin.

He was inexperienced.

He took too much.

He ended up with his head resting on my uncle's chest as he slept, because my uncle had heard him gurgling on the floor, and wanted to wake up if he heard him making any more noises.
He didn't.
He woke up the next morning with my father's cold body on him. His head still on his chest.

I didn't know any of this until we were staying with my (now totally clean & reformed) uncle in BC. Him & I were making breakfast while Rob & my uncle's wife were uploading pictures onto the computer in the other room.
He asked me if there was anything I'd like to know about my dad, and I found out the truth.
The elephant in the room had finally disappeared.
I cried. I told him that I forgave him. I saw the look of guilt and sadness on his face.
He told me that what happened broke his heart everyday, and now it was breaking again as he explained to his niece, how he had been involved in the death of her father.
It dawned on me that he had been dealing with this for the past 12 years of his life. Just like I had been dealing with the lack of closure I had.. I was living on the other side of the country when my father died.. and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
Here I was, with my mother's brother. My dad's best friend. And with everything on the table, out in the open.. I have gained an uncle. An uncle who knew my father like nobody else. An uncle with whom I am closer than ever before.





I finally visited my dad. I saw a tree that was planted one year after his death, along with his ashes.. a tree that I didn't know existed until that day. I felt all of the anger and confusion and sadness and fear all at once. I was overwhelmed with emotion.
Then, I felt nothing but peace.
I told him about my life.. about my new husband and his grandchildren. I told him that I loved him, and I forgave him for not being an active part of my life...for making stupid choices and leaving me behind.
I cried and I whispered to him and I sat quietly with him.






I finally let go.