Sometimes what matters most, is the way things end.

After my dad’s surgery, I didn’t know when my father pulled me in real tight, it would be the last time I’d get to hug him back. But I gave that hug back strong and it was heartfelt.

I didn’t know the last time we both said I love you, it would be the last he’d hear me say it. But I know he could feel how full it was. My father ended our last time together with a prayer, asking God to help me continue moving forward in life.

For a moment, much of the pain dissipated. There was no anger, I heard no harmful words, and there were no strings attached. These were the moments I yearned for my entire life. A normal father and son seeing each other with love and no complications. This was a blessing that there was some level of reconciliation together, and I treasured it so much.

Today, I’m not ashamed of tears. The most painful things in this world are often so painful because its source is love. And I loved my father. and he loved me and my sister. Yet I also struggle. How do you talk about love and deep pain at the same time?

Speaking about my father is one of the hardest things I can do. I’ve agonized over speaking about how our love is covered with a lifetime of tears and broken hearts behind smiles because of the way he dealt with his struggles.

As some here know, my father sadly struggled with substance abuse, and with untreated emotional sickness and inner demons throughout his life. I believe many of these struggles he could not help or was deterred from getting help, yet, those struggles caused harm and hurt in our family for decades. And the trauma left me bitter with deep scars upon my heart and painful memories that will always stay with me as long as I live.

Today I mourn the life we lost, and the potential of the life I dreamed we could have had together.

I’ve heard it’s best to find the love between the pain and that very few things are strictly black and white. And with my father, there was pain, but I want you to know there was also love too.

Despite his struggles, I know that in his own way my father fiercly loved me and my sister, in the best way he knew how. I know he was proud of us. I’m grateful for the moments of love between the pain, where substance and sickness didn’t alter his mind and behavior — they are treasures I try to focus on.

You don’t know how happy I feel when I hear from his neighbors, colleagues, and friends and that they genuinely cared about and loved him and how my father helped them too. He was good to them. This is also part of who my father is and his story as well. Please let me know more of these wonderful things. It is healing. My heart is filled with gratitude that many neighbors had helped him too.

I choose to focus on and remember the good times & our similarities. Dad, you taught me how to swim, and you taught me how to fish. We were both Student Body Presidents of our colleges and we have the same ears.

You liked that now I’m a dance Instructor on the side. I remember one time when I was little I was at my father’s house watching TV and I saw Michael Jackson dance. I thought it was so cool. I said, “Dad, he’s so cool! I want to be just like him!”. He looked at me for a second and said, “Son, that’s just weird.”

And you’re right dad. That is weird. Thankyou for your guidance there.

One of the biggest blessings is when love can supersede pain.

And that’s part of the theme here too.

After a long time of not seeing my father, I was scared to visit him, but I tried still. We got together for BBQ. And for a moment in time things were okay. I yearned to connect with my father all my life. These moments are precious to me and he was happy to have it too.

For a moment, I was able to exchange bitterness with empathy. Love overcame fear.

I’m thankful that before his death, my sister and I did get to be together with him and hug a last time. And on some level, we reconciled and shared love despite the hurt.

Dad, I just want to see you smile again. I love going through old photos and seeing you when you were happy. I saw how you carefully kept our sentimental childhood memories like my old baseball mitt we used to play catch with. As I look in your home, I see the thoughtfulness you had for us.

Dad, I just want you to be healthy and happy. I want you to be free of sickness and of the inner demons that hurt your mind and our life so badly that we often couldn’t be together. I hated that you were in pain, and I want you to have your legs to walk.

I want you to be eating your favorite meal: spaghetti and meatballs with Mema at the dinner table together. I did what I could to help you with your struggles because I loved you so much, and even though it didn’t work, know I tried my best. There’s a place in heaven where you are not hurting anymore and your mind is free from the pain and suffering of this world.

I wished all my life for a healthy father and son relationship. I know in many ways you tried, but couldn’t because of your struggles. I wish we and the entire family could have had a better life together.

But I’ll try to focus on the happy times we did have that are captured in some photos. I’ll move forward carrying the knowledge about the good you gave and the lessons I learned, because there was that too.

I said before, what often matters most, is the way things end.

And I am so blessed. Because at the end, Dad you told me “Son. I love you. And I’m Proud of you.” Even as an adult, I never knew how much my soul needed to hear that from you. While I grieve for the decades of pain that I’ll leave undetailed, I’m glad for the times like this where we could focus on love.

Because at the end, we had some reconciliation.

For everyone here, thank you for being with our family, helping in our healing, and releasing the soul of my father to heaven today. Thank you to those who have supported me throughout my life and to my father during difficult times.

Right now, we have each other & the present moment that affects how things end for us. Live life fully. Love each other fiercely. Take care of your health. Tell your loved ones you love them. And if it’s possible and healthy, the best we can do is try to reconcile. It may work —and even if it is partial, it is still precious and worth it. I’m so glad even with all the pain, my father and I did that. Even if only in part, that part of bitterness that turned into peace and love, releasing some weight that has plagued my mind and our connection.

With no qualifiers, you are my father, and I am your son. I choose to focus on that I love you and you loved me. I’m blessed that in the last interactions with my father, we prayed together and he asked God to help me move forward. So with strength, prudence, and the good he did, I pray the same for you too, and we move forward. Dad, I’m glad I got to say I love you, and you to me one last time.

Rest your mind in peace my dear father. I love you,

Your loving son,

Stephen