I just caught up with this thread. I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I was not very close to my dad, I regret to say. In fact my parents got divorced when I was young, so I did not see much of him. As a result, when I got married and before I had kids, the idea of being a "dad" and of fatherhood were more conceptual than deeply felt or experienced ideas for me. I did not even know if I wanted to have kids. But of course my wife did, and because it was a natural part of marriage, I had no objection. Then the kids came.
My own father was from the "slap and shout" school of child-rearing. I didn't care much for that. And so I knew I didn't want to raise my kids that way. Instead I turned to the style of parenting that I observed in my wife's older brother, who by then had a couple of children. He interacted with his kids in a way I had not experienced, observed, or even knew was appropriate for a father: He held them and kissed them and hugged them and cherished them. I watched, learned, and applied those lessons as best I could to my children.
As I began raising my three young children, all two years apart, I did not carry within myself a strong reservoir of fatherly love and self-confidence through having a strong relationship with my own father that guided me in raising them. But as I interacted with them every day, and kissed, hugged, and cherished them, that reservoir began to fill, gradually, over the years.
During this time of raising my young children my dad came back to live close by with his second wife. And my wife and I started to visit them. We got to know them and look forward to our times together. Also at this time my dad was struggling with alcoholism. He lost his job and could not get another one. Finally his wife, my wife, and I held an intervention with him, where we told him that we loved him and that we were there for him and would do whatever it took to get him well again. He checked into the VA hospital (Annapolis graduate, veteran of Korea). Things got better for a time. Then worse. His wife divorced him and he wound up living in a dive hotel room. I came into work one morning and was told I had a phone call from the coroner's office. He had taken his own life.
My mother passed away years before my dad. It was the year I graduated from college. She was 47, an age I passed several years ago. Having collapsed in her home one day, she was rushed to the hospital, diagnosed with advanced-stage melanoma, and passed away two weeks later after much similar family effort as you describe you are going through now.
Although I began fatherhood with a kind of detached, abstract understanding of what fatherhood--and more broadly, parenthood--was and meant, I soon came to understand that for those of use who become parents, being a parent is one of the most fundamental experiences of being a human being. I think back to my great grandparents, grandparents, and parents, and look ahead to the day I will be a grandparent, great grandparent, God willing....
So that now as I look back at the last 21 years, my children now being aged 17, 19, and 21, I recall how deeply routed, embedded, and vital a part of my childrens' lives I was and am, and how equally embedded and vital are part of me they are. As one who embarked 21 years ago into fatherhood feeling ambivalent at best, I recognize now that my children and I are an inseparable part of each other. And of course the bond is Love. My reservoir is full.
So from this personal experience and knowledge of fatherhood that I've gained from both sides, please allow me to say again, I am sorry to hear about your father. I know what he means to you, and what you mean to him.
I wish you and your family the best during this difficult time.
Jb