FAMILY FEUDS & HOW TO SURVIVE THEM
At my father’s hospital bed in the early hours of the morning, I stared at a man I hardly knew. He was staring at the wall that lit up with headlights from the street below. He wasn’t sleeping anymore—he was afraid to die in his sleep—and so I decided that sitting up with him to keep him company was better than just sleeping on the tiny bench beside his bed.
For the better part of the last decade, my father and I haven’t seen much of each other. Papa and I didn’t agree on many things. Mama, when she was still alive, didn’t help either because every time she was hurt or sad about things my father did or didn’t do, I was the one she told. Micro-aggressions like his constant teasing that my eyeglasses made me look like an ugly nerd were forgiven. However, I needed to physically limit my time with Papa so that the micro-aggressions won’t balloon into full-blown snarky insults. Visits to our old family home were monthly and short because as toxic as our relationship was, I still believed we had to have one. One afternoon ended all that.
I was visiting Papa with my two small sons. He loved sharing photos of
