I only had my father for 18 years of my life, but now I’m over half a century old and I think about him almost every day.
When I break it down, he was in my life for even less than 18 years. You see, my parents were only together for the first eight years of my life, and then they divorced. When I was nine, my mother moved to Oklahoma, and I would only get to see my father once a year during summertime. During some of those summers, especially in his last years, his health was significantly declining.
I have a complicated set of memories from our time together. The greatest gift my father gave me was the gift of a million experiences. However, many of those experiences are tinged with sadness. You see, my father was an alcoholic and a gambler. This personality flaw was the cause of my parents’ divorce.
I didn’t notice it as much when they were still together, but it became crystal clear after their separation. When we all still lived in Los Angeles, my father would take me every other weekend. Looking back, I should have recognized his gambling problem when he thought it was a good idea to take an 8-year-old to Las Vegas for a weekend in the 1970s.
His alcoholism became apparent around the same time when we flew to San Francisco together. On our first night, my father passed out drunk around 10 pm. This might not have meant much to me since I was used to seeing him slumped over and sleeping. However, this time was different. I found myself wide awake at 2 am, watching TV, when the hotel’s fire alarm went off. Despite my efforts, I couldn’t wake him up. Luckily, it turned out to be a false alarm, but as I sat by his side trying to wake him, I realized the extent of his intoxication.
When my mother and I moved to Oklahoma, my visitations with my father became much less frequent, usually limited to 30 to 40 days in the summer. In the first few years, it was emotionally traumatizing. Some of his behavior during that time felt manipulative, but I loved him nonetheless.
He never laid a hand on me. Looking back, I now understand that his early emotional games after the divorce were fueled by his own doubts about whether I still loved and cared for him despite the distance. This was a time before FaceTime when long-distance calls were expensive. As a father myself now, I can only imagine the pain and uncertainty he must have felt having his only son so far away.
I have no doubt that this distance worsened his problems with drinking and gambling. My memories of visiting California during the summer are always intertwined with stories of his binges and gambling. Many summer nights, I can recall my grandma calling different places in Gardena, trying to locate my father who was engrossed in playing cards. Eventually, his drinking caught up with him when I was 15. That summer, I spent about a week on my grandma’s couch because my father was battling cirrhosis. His drinking stopped, and in return, I got a sober and humble father. However, three years later, cancer from his lifelong smoking habit took him away from me for good.
I saw him in the hospital about seven days before he passed away. He had shrunk to almost nothing and could hardly speak. I couldn’t bring myself to cry in his presence before he died, and that haunted me for a long time. But now, I have forgiven myself and I have forgiven my father. As I mentioned before, my father exposed me to countless life experiences that I cherish deeply.
Especially on this Father’s Day, I reflect on those memories with love.
Sincerely,
Bobby’s kid
Kent
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