This posting is not about regrets of pay taxes, although, I wish we didn't have to pay so many or so much.
No, this posting is about my father.... late father. If you read the previous posting, about two back, it explains about my father passing away in October of 2012.
I am the sole executor of my father's estate and finally got some time to gather all of his tax stuff for the accountant. I began going through all of his notes, and things about 3 weeks ago. I've been very, very busy at work at Duke and bring some work home which many times keeps me busy in the evenings, but I finally made some time to gather his stuff together.
Sitting in the same room that he occupied while living with us at the Inn, I slowly went through the files of stock stuff, and other 1099s he got. He didn't have much in terms of an estate, so it is fairly easy. However, it slowed me down, just thinking about him. I would come across a note hand written by him and I would just stare at it looking at the handwriting. A simple note reminding him when to take his pain pill or what bill needed to be paid or a note to remind him to talk to me about an article he read in the newspaper about healthcare. His handwriting..... an extension of him.... his mind.... his thoughts...... put down on paper by his hand. I miss him. Regrets begin to surface.
Maybe I should have talked more with him instead of coming home, saying Hi, asking him how things were, and then go eat dinner, then work on some stuff for Duke. Maybe I should have sat just for 30 minutes every week and watched TV with him. He never asked me to, he never said that he was lonely or needed someone to talk to. Actually, Doris did talk to him almost everyday while I was at work. I would always say Hello and have a short conversation with him, but nothing really in length or of meaning.
However, usually once every two weeks, him and I would take a ride to our storage garage in Cary. That 20 minute ride there and back provided us with some time to talk and bond. However, I feel I just did not do enough. Now it's too late.
I sit in his room and look at old photos of him, my mother, and numerous others in my family from recent times to almost back 80 years. People having fun, laughing, smiling, relaxed, and just enjoying life. I look at some of the old photos and wished I would have asked my dad questions about who some of the people were, what was the occasion, or anything that I should know. I would have learned more about my father, and what made him Louis. I have regrets.
People tell me I did the right thing, having both of my parents live with me until they passed away. Everyone says what a nice person I am to do that. Yeah.... I liked doing it. It was wonderful having them around, especially my father who I became closer to in my later years, whereas I was closer to my mother in my youth. I still have regrets. I wished I would have done a better job at getting to know him.
Though he had a very sour view on life and always looked for the negative in things (he had a hard life growing up), he was a very kind, gentle, and sentimental man. He would easily cry over thinks like my birthday, his birthday, my anniversary, missing my mother, etc. He many times was tough, sometimes angry, sometimes seemingly unforgiving; but I do know he had a heart of gold.... all those things I do know.
As as I touch all the things he touch, I feel a little of him come alive within me. I do miss him as well as my mother; I just hope they both spiritually watch over me, just like their photos keep a constant vigilance while I'm sitting at my desk.
Someday, the regrets will pass.
Gary
