To an outside observer, it might appear that my father approached death the same way he did life: With a heavy hand and a critical gaze. It may seem like his pride and stubbornness made something difficult — dying — harder than it already was. But it was I, not my father, who was difficult. I hadn’t put up with him. He had put up with me — a narcissistic, entitled brat who didn’t see the big picture.
Over at The Butter, Alizah Salario writes about dealing with the death of her overprotective and conservative father, and making sense of their relationship.
