Over the course of these past several months, the focus of my blog has drastically changed. Games have definitely been the focus and maybe rightfully so. That is pretty much all I've got to write about these days, unless I go off about work and I really don't think anyone wants to hear or read about that kind of junk.
But today I have to take a slight detour from the norm and come back with a subject that I honestly gave very little thought to over the majority of my lifetime. Maybe I've just been running away from something that I just never felt that I was able to deal with and have just been burying it over and over again for all of these many years.
Like the title of this writing states, it was 17 long years ago when my father passed away due to a brief battle with Leukemia. It was swift because he hadn't really taken care of himself or so I was told. He passed away on March 27th, 1991 to be exact and it was just 4 days shy of my 8th Birthday.
Truth be told, I have very little to no memory of him anymore. Well, nothing I care to recall to be quite honest. Still, even when I try to remember, I just cannot picture his face or even remember the sound of his voice anymore. And, as I came to understand it years later, he was the type of person that absolutely did not take pictures and so that one is out the window as well.
One of the very few memories I have left of him, was the day he passed away. My mom and I were driving down to the airport, following behind a few of my aunties (whom were in their own cars). The idea was to fly out to Oahu, where my dad was going to be hospitalized.
Everything looked to be going fine, but as we entered Kona Airport, we saw an ambulance racing back in the other direction. As we pulled up to the main terminal, one of my aunts was on the curb, flagging us down. She quickly inform us that my dad had "coded" (in other words, he was all but dead at that point) and was now racing back to Kona Community Hospital in hopes of saving him.
Long story short, they made it back to the hospital but it was already too late.
In the years that followed his passing, I had grown further apart from his family to the point where I wouldn't really even call them "family" anymore. But that is another issue for another day.
So 17 years have passed and I haven't even been to Hilo to visit his grave in over a decade. I don't even think I could find it myself anymore. Something I have been debating with myself for the past few years was if I should someday make an effort to pay him a visit. Heh, well I guess that question should be a no-brainer, huh?
But I don't know if I could do that or if I even would want to do it at this point. Still, I suppose I won't ever really move forward in life until I "settle" things once and for all.
Of all the things that I've seen and lived through during my life, this seems to be the one thing I just haven't been able to let go. With my selective memory in tow, the one honest thing I can say about my dad is I love him because he is my dad and yet I hate him for the suffering he put my mom through even after he had gone.
Gah, I think I'll just leave this subject where it is.
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