I am helping a friend, a man who is about old enough to be my father, die. I am helping with his advanced planning and setting things up for his second wife and speaking with his sons. No, he never abused these kids. But some feel that he was not there like they would have wished, that they worked too hard when they had any time with him. And they love him. This man who w3orked his butt off because that is what a dad did. He was adopted later in life. He is smart and loving and I feel a deep loss inside. You see, today I spoke with one of his sons I had never really spoken with and we discussed the ways of childhood and the ways of adulthood. He never abused them, he just wasn't real present for them. I was touched as I know my friend regrets that also as I speak with him about the end of his life and his wishes. He is a good man. He is a loving man, and he did the best he could at the time. So why do I write it here? Because in speaking with one of the sons I am reminded that my own father meant to cause pain and harm and did not see me/us, as people to be nurtured and respected. My friend, what little I can offer him, is dealing with his cancer in his own way. I want to make it all okay, you know, a good death and good goodbyes. I told this son today that he should say what is in his heart now and have lunch with dad when possible. I feel jealous and torn. This man is my friend and he has taken care of me in many ways. I want to plan his death. Yup, stupid, in fact, knowing my very stubborn friend, I am sure that he will do it his own way, with independence. Just realizing that this relationship affects me. I love him. I feel love for his boys, I feel compassion for his wife. Another loss, it is okay, just the father thing and the memories of THE FATHER beating the crap out of me. Makes me sad, makes me want to have control more. Silly girl.