I did not expect either my father or myself to become different people, only to try and find

some common ground together. This made relating with him seem... possible, which was almost an impossibility when I was a kid. Since in the past, relating to him had been impossible — this was a big step forward, and I took it.

Basically what I did was simply show up to sit with him as he lay dying and, sitting there, I realised that he, too, was making an effort to connect with me. I assume that he didn’t want to die on an angry discordant note and wanted to make peace with me.

He was making a choice, as he could have been harsh or shooed me away. Instead we sat there, and eventually we held hands.

He talked some about his life and present situation. After a few weeks of developing this trust and seeing we could be together without striking at one another, I noticed how his eyes lit up on seeing me enter and sit by his bed. This gave me the courage to ask him one day if he was proud of me... I wanted his blessing.

He said yes, quietly not forcefully, and while it wasn’t as enthusiastic a response as I’d have liked, I could tell there was no qualification or reservation in his voice. He went on to tell me that I’d made a good life for myself and that, most important, I’d done it on my own. I could hear respect in his voice and it hit home. I felt that I no longer had to prove myself, and a weight lifted from me. — Beliefnet.com