Things I Learned From My Father

On February 27, 2024, my dad passed away after a five-year stint with dementia. He lived with me and my wife for the first 18 months of his illness. Then the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns happened, and everything changed. My wife and I were sent home to work (as psychotherapists), and my dad’s adult daycare program (and every other service we relied on for his care) closed down. We were at a loss for what to do. Thankfully, my dad was able to go into a VA-covered respite program for six weeks, but it was clear to us that his well-being required more hands-on care than we could provide. That is when my dad entered the “system” of residential care for seniors. I was concerned about how well he would do in that environment, AND I knew my dad needed more (more qualified) help, so the search for a good place began. Luckily, we found one fairly quickly, and my dad moved in without much fuss, which surprised me. My dad had lived alone most of my life, so I wasn’t sure how he’d take to living around so many people. He did fine. His disease progressed, and eventually, he moved into an assisted living facility and then a nursing home. His last few months were spent in hospice. Thankfully, he lived only fifteen minutes away so I could visit him often. My father was a larger-than-life person. He was brilliant, physically fit, and socially adept. His absence is a massive loss. I was thinking about some life lessons he taught me over the years and came up with a short list of my favorites. Here they are:

Dessert can be a meal. My dad once called me to announce that he had just eaten a banana split for dinner. He was so amused by the event that we had a good chuckle.

Avoid having expectations; that way, you'll not be disappointed. This was a big one for my dad. He always stressed how being disappointed was due to having expectations. He wanted me to live life day-to-day and not get caught up in life's would have, could have, and should have. I treasure this lesson the most.

Everything is in moderation. My dad drank a little, ate junk food a little, ate greasy foods a little, and attended late-night events a little. Never too much of anything considered “bad for you.” That can include social media, television, sunlight, alcohol, animal fats, and sleep. Moderation is key, he used to say.

Use your differences as a ladder, not a crutch. My father was born in Mexico, immigrated to the USA in childhood, and enlisted in the US Marine Corps at age 17. He used to tell me stories of what it was like being a Mexican boy who stammered in class and a young man in the military. It was not easy. He witnessed others getting bullied, but he was rarely bullied. I was curious why. He thought it was because he made friends with kids from all the schoolyard cliques and local street gangs. That way, if anyone picked on him, he could tell someone who was friends with that other person, and they would tell them to stop bullying my dad. I took those stories to heart. I also became a kid with friends in different cliques, too. It worked like a charm!

If people refuse to open a door to you, keep moving and knocking, and don't break down doors. My dad was not fond of the victim mentality. He told me that if someone didn't want to be my friend, hire me, or invite me into their home for any reason (being Mexican, lesbian, or trans), it was better to keep moving along and not force people to accept me or welcome me. I love this lesson. It is especially important now, with all the identity politics and calls to “affirm” people or pay the consequences (be denigrated, assaulted, reported).

Live a seven-day weekend. My dad told me he read an article about how many men die within a few years of retiring. He decided right then and there not to wait to live his life fully until he retired. Instead, he made a mental shift and began living like every day was a weekend, although he was still going to work every day. He taught me that we push against so much that is all in our minds and to just “let go” and “enjoy what is.”

“Anyway...” It can be a helpful conversation pivot. In the middle of a conversation, my father would let out a slow ‘aannyywwaayy’ and then shift the topic. It always cracked me up. I wasn't sure if he was bored of the topic, lost track of the discussion, or felt ill-equipped for the dialogue. Nonetheless, many friends, my wife, and former partners have all remarked about it and found it peculiar over the years.

est in LA. When I was nine, my father enrolled me in an est workshop for children in Los Angeles. I did not know that he was an est workshop trainer then. My experience with est was all positive. It was in that environment that I learned how to “be my word,” “be authentic,” and “live with integrity.” I have held onto these messages and many more over the years. I am thankful that my father gave me the experience of “living to my purpose” at such a young age.

Take responsibility for your life. Both my dad and the est training emphasized this philosophy. Bad things happen in life. I cannot control that. I can control how I either react or respond to those things. I can choose to react at the moment, or I can choose to pause, contemplate the situation, and then respond at a later time. This is not always possible, but most of the time it is. I am rarely in actual danger, even if my limbic brain is telling me I am in danger. I can slow down my interpretation of what is happening to determine my risk level. We all do. Well, most of us do. Some people have cognitive differences that interfere with their ability to differentiate between actual and perceived situations. Thankfully, I am not one of those people.

Thank you, Dad, for your many years of sage wisdom. I miss you.