Dad and I

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My mom and dad separated when I was about six months old. Mom said it was like living alone. Dad would go for days and hardly say a word. She couldn't handle it. He was a good dad though and I remember spending quite a bit of time with him up until I was about ten and my mom remarried and we moved out of town for about five years. He was a quiet man. He taught me how to drink out of a pop bottle, to dance, and how to fish among other things. I spent a lot of time at his parent's place and have many fond memories. He always tried to be involved in my life. Fast forward to when I had my daughter. He had called and invited us to an Easter picnic. I was so excited to show off my daughter to him. Had her all dressed up cute and thought sure he'd be so good with her. So we got to the picnic spot and he paid no attention to her whatsoever. He barely even acknowledged her. I was extremely hurt. I didn't see my dad again for years although my aunt did try to get me to reconcile with him. I was proud and the hurt still lived in my mind. Out of the blue one day, his older brother called me at Dad's request. He was in the VA hospital dying of prostate cancer and he had wanted to see me. All my hurt, pride, etc, left me instantly. I flew to the hospital. We had a great visit. I showed him dozens of pictures of my daughter and her daughter. It was as if we hadn't been estranged all those years. I hugged his emaciated body goodbye and vowed to myself I'd be back in a few days. I was so excited thinking we had the opportunity to renew our relationship. I knew his family was not happy with me for the way I had treated him. I didn't blame them but because of this, I stayed away from the hospital for about three days. About mid-day of the third day, I called to see how he was and planned to visit him later that day. The nice nurse I spoke to sadly informed me that he had passed away the day before.