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To say that my father and I do not have a good relationship is to put the actual situation in the most diplomatic of terms.
We haven't spoken more than 5 words to each other in as many years. And that is all for the best. The last time I recall feeling something positive for my dad was before I turned 10. After that it was really all downhill; specifics are just not that important anymore.
Last year I got a call from my mom that my dad had a stroke. After the initial shock, though, I wasn't all that upset. More just interested in the lack of emotion in my response.
Then apart from a few jokes about him made to various family members at various times, he hasn't really entered into my thoughts.
A couple of nights ago I was on the phone with my mother, discussing the new fridge she had to purchase to replace the current one which wasn't nearly keeping up it's end of the appliance bargain. Somehow we got onto the subject of my father and in passing she mentions him being seen with a pound of butter, stupid after his heart surgery.
Heart surgery? Huh?
I learn that my father had a quadruple bypass at some point a few months ago. My brothers knew about it at the time and my mother didn't find out till April. But no one thought to tell me. Now, granted, I'm not torn up about this; in fact I was more shocked that he hadn't kicked the bucket while on the table. However, I was bewildered as to why no one in my family thought it necessary to tell me about it.
Maybe my lack of compassion for the man might have influenced their decision or maybe the fact that he really has no effect whatsoever on my life.
Regardless of the reason, it would have been nice to know earlier.