I want to say that the topic of this post may be unsettling, but I believe that when it comes to death and dying and cancer, sensitive is a much more appropriate word. The phenomenon is so difficult to deal with, I don’t believe anyone on earth knows how to deal with the matter; losing a parent to cancer is beyond words. And so I think we all sort of try to learn and read with compassion and understanding in light of such realities.
For me, personally, having just found out that my adoptive father has passed, this is confounding me, if for the primary reason – that we were estranged, me being at the helm of that estrangement. Our relationship had been awful, his hostility towards me when I was young being the key factor. When I became disabled, he neglected to offer any help, and when I tried to get on my feet by going through college and grad school, he ignored me, neglecting to help in any way. And so I just went about my life as best as I could, realizing innately that I was harboring feelings of resentment.
What I discovered, now that it’s been two days since I found out, is that even though I hadn’t spoken with the man, if I don’t make an attempt to process my feelings, to try and understand and accept the situation, then I’ll start to feel as though I’m cold and indifferent to his passing; and I’m not. In this manner, I found that I can’t just go about my daily tasks as though nothing has happened. I have to acknowledge the significance of human life, especially one of whom stands as the figure of a parent; this notion, for most people on earth, is very serious. I am no different. I just feel odd, as though I should be feeling some certain way, yet instead I’m feeling another.
The bottom line is that I wish I’d never gone through adoption – specifically because of the Baby Scoop Era problem underscoring my own experience, and the abuse I endured as a result. Adoption may be good in many cases, and I’d adopt too, but it was bad for me. Now that he’s gone, I’m left with more questions than answers.