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Last week I had lunch with a friend who told me his father had died rather unexpectedly.

He said that in the few weeks while his dad was sick, before he passed on, they never got the chance to have a heart to heart. How does that feel, I asked.

He told me something we all know: Be ready to let it all go completely when your dad dies. If you have something you want to say or ask, do it now. When the chance is gone, the dwelling can eat you alive.

The thought of talking to my dad in such a deep way feels pretty scary to me.

What if dad doesn’t want to or can’t answer my questions? What if he can’t listen or connect with me emotionally?

Deep or emotional dialogue is not a part of our family life. Nor is physical affection.

The work I did in analysis helped me to see some of the undercurrents of my conscious life, and the family system and history that shaped that undercurrent. But it’s personal work. Talking to my family about the function of our history and systems is not necessary to reap the benefits of analysis.

Here’s something I know to be true: self awareness without healing is worse than a lack of self awareness. Awareness is hard work, but remedying is the hardest work there is in life, and it is lifelong work.

So.

I now understand the value and necessity of deep and emotional dialogue and physical affection. I know that true relationships require these aspects. In the past few years I’ve done hard work to foster dialogue and affection in many important relationships in my life. I’m getting more at ease with deep and honest conversation and physical affection with time and practice. But I haven’t insisted on doing this with my parents because it’s outside the norm for us, and the fear of rejection is uncomfortable for me.

The fact of death asks me to take another look. I have the chance to try because my parents are alive now. There are stories everywhere of people who desperately wish they’d said things to their loved ones. It’s not that they can no longer say these things, it’s that they can no longer say them to the person who is dead.

Letting someone know how they’ve shaped you and what you love about them on their deathbed is probably a good thing to do. However, emotional confessionals before your loved one is surely on their deathbed leave open the possibility of years of awkwardness. It also leaves open the possibility for a new paradigm.

My dad is not well, and we both know it. His heart is failing him. He can have a surgery that might offer him more time to live. Or he may die before the surgery, or during it.

My current and personal ethos on how to live involves understanding the physical and cultural world through the study of science and history and combining that with a diligent respect and interest in the mystical and unknown—the soul.

One of my favorite sayings that I do my level best to apply to life is, to me, a perfect combination of the laws of physics with the spirit of souls: go positive and go first.

When I think about it, dad has already gone positive and gone first.

Last year he had a stroke. A few days later he made sure to tell me that he’s proud of me. That he admires me for my fearlessness and willingness to travel, to immerse myself in otherness. He’s shared with me some of the ways in which our conversations about politics have changed his world view. He told me recently that he stays busy because if he slows down too much, he thinks about death.

Because of these few and brief and relatively recent conversations with dad, I feel his love for me and his pride in me. A gift that I will always cherish.

When dad dies, much of him will live on through me. In fairness, some of what I’ve learned from dad, I’m trying to unlearn. But there is a lot of him that I have inherited, and that I value in myself, and that I want to pass on to my son Toby.

These are a few of the positive aspects of self that I inherited from being my dad’s daughter.

Independence + Interdependence.

I was raised to be self reliant.

If I wanted something material, I knew I needed to work for it.

If it’s broken, my dad can fix it. If it can be built, my dad can build it.

I have two brothers and we were told and taught to stand up for and look out for each other.

Dad had a high level of dignity in providing for his family. He would not take a dime that he did not earn, and he rarely asks for help but offers it often.

Because of dad, I have a fierce independence. I know there is nothing I can’t learn or do. I also know the value of relying on a few trusted people for strength when needed.

Integrity + Honesty.

I’ve lied. And cheated. Each time, the consequence has been internal guilt and shame. Some of the times I’ve lied or cheated, I have excused away due to circumstances or lack of intended harm to others, but the internal consequences remain. I do wish I could get away with some dishonesty without consequence but I know better, and I have always known better.

Dad would absolutely not stand for dishonesty or lack of integrity as I was growing up, and I am better for the harshness he doled out in the face of childhood injustices.

I know that if I act with integrity, I do not need to worry for even one moment what others think of me. This is a real kind of never-fail freedom. I strive to exercise this with every action I take.

Work Ethic.

Strengths are often weaknesses, too. Dad worked too much and still does. So do I, and so do my mom and my brothers. We toil. A family of toilers. And that’s not such a bad thing to be.

My mom and dad live on a houseboat part-time. I visited my dad’s good friend and houseboat neighbor recently to pick blueberries at his farm. While there he expressed his worry about dad. He said that even with dad’s heart condition, he’s still out power-washing, and helping the neighbors, and toiling each day.

I’m grateful for the work ethic my dad instilled in me. I’m also keen to continue learning to incorporate balance with other parts of life. But I know that honest toil is meaning making and I don’t intend to ease up in this arena.

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Because of my dad’s heart and health maladies, this topic has been prominent in my mind. I’ve been writing this for a couple of weeks. There’s more to say but how much more time is there to figure out how to say it? Today is Father’s Day, so I wrapped it up and am sending it to my dad.