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The One Question I Regret Not Asking My Dad Before He Died
Reminiscing on lost time and missed connection
My dad passed away from cancer a few years ago. At the shiva (a weeklong mourning period in Judaism for first-degree relatives), I broke down. I couldn’t stop crying.
Picturing a world without him hit me hard. At that moment, I thought of all the lost time and opportunities for a deeper connection that we had missed.
A year before his death, I took a trip with my dad and brother. We traveled to India to visit the city of his birth, Mumbai. My brother and I expected to learn more about his upbringing and genuinely connect.
Dad had other ideas.
He hadn’t returned to India since the day he left as a young man of 22. Dad didn’t come from a wealthy family; he had to work hard to save money for a one-way trip, packing a single suitcase to stay with an uncle in England. He never looked back.
Now, back in India for the first time — and with money — my dad wanted the tourist experience. We passed the old Catholic school he attended, which he casually mentioned as we sped past. We never got more than a brief mention of Dad’s life in India. The timing was never right, or he was never in the mood to enlighten us on his mysterious past.
I feel bad that we missed out on a lot of meaningful time together. All the hours we spent next to each other in the temple, praying together but never communicating. Or the long phone conversations with Mom, who would put Dad on the phone only for him to ask, “Are you all right? Do you need some money?” My dad, the accountant. He was happiest when talking about taxes and savings. It was his comfort zone and love language.
I’d get messages from Mom about how proud Dad was of me or when he might be worried for me. It was never a direct line. I wish my life were more like the movies, where father and son would sit on a deck and bond over a beer.
Dad never drank. He saw life as a series of serious challenges to overcome — and believed he needed to be sober to do so.
The final nail in our communication was my wanderlust. I couldn’t wait to leave home, and I fled as far as I could. I’d make sure my parents…
