Two weeks ago, my dad passed away after a short battle with severe lung cancer. He was 56 years old and had lived the last 15 years of his life (following his divorce from my Mom) in his parents' home, mainly unemployed, and battling depression and alcoholism. His only joy was in his love for me, my two sisters, and my young niece, a feeling he had inscribed in each of our cards his last Christmas, his favorite day of the year: "You and your sisters are my reason for being." I felt anger and pressure by his words. Underneath the veil of alcoholism and depression was a beautiful, kind, gentle, intelligent, artistic, wonderful man; why didn't he realize this? Why couldn't he live for himself?

My dad was the center of my universe growing up. He was so cool, good-looking, and stylish. He played guitar and mandolin and sang in a country-rock band; he read books be Steinbeck and Hesse and Hunter S. Thompson; and he abhorred Stephen King. He rode a motorcycle and he smoked grass. I was the envy of many of my friends. But as I grew older, I realized that to love my dad so much was an emotional burden for me. He relied on me when nobody else would stand by him, but he couldn't provide me with the kind of support I needed from a parent. In return, there was no financial support for university, and he didn't attend my graduation as he couldn't handle being there with my mother. There was no one to walk me down the isle when I got married. Eventually, I made the decision to detach myself emotionally from him in order to carry on with my own life. I worked hard at my career and eventually moved to Montreal, far away from my family in Toronto.

When I got the call from my Mom that my dad had passed away, I went through a series of emotions--shock, anger, sadness, guilt (for not being there for him in the way my sisters were near the end of his life), and finally relief. I believe that my father's spirit is finally happy and free, that he sees us and knows we are healthy and happy and carrying on with our lives as best we can, in his honor, that he's there to help us now, when we need him. Cancer weakened his body and depression weakened his soul, so that he could not survive in this life, so I must believe that he is thriving in whatever comes after. This brings me relief.