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Remembering my Dad, Feb 12, 1980.

 On the  45th eve of my dad’s passing, I was reading some hand written notes by my mother. Talking to dad on one of his last days. I was struck by a few lines that stated dad was upset that on one of the last time I was to see him I had a very blank look, and wasn’t showing any emotion. But inside I was crying and no idea why I didn’t show it. I have lived with this guilt I guess from that day. We did get to visit one last time and he told me he was proud of me, I told him I would never forget him. He was funny, kind, and a gentle soul, always wanting to help those around him. We were close growing up, but somewhere along the way I started to rebel and pretend I didn’t like to hang out with him doing chores around the yard, but honestly these were my favourite times. He had a habit of making up songs, one was called ‘Scott of the Arctic”, he was singing it one day and for some reason I told him I hated that song and never want to hear it again. I think I wanted to go play with my friends or was upset at something I wasn’t really aware of at the time, but I would do anything to hear him sing that song again now.  

He was in the hospital for long time, it felt like the good part of 3 years, before he died of Duodenum cancer. I remember laying in bed every night praying that the suffering he was under going as result of FAP would be sent away, any where into outer space, just away so it couldn’t hurt him or anyone else. I have guilt about not being there more for him when he was in the hospital. I can’t help wonder if his suffering ending gave me a sense of relief, I wouldn’t have to watch my dad struggle anymore. Dealing with this guilt, and the feelings hasn’t been easy. I loved him so much, and still do. I am so proud of the person he was.

I know he is now part of what makes the Universe better, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. I love you dad.

Dale Roger MacTavish


 

Mom and dad in the hospital.


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