My dad went back to the hospital today. This time my Grams went up there and sat with him so she could get some answers, since my dad isn’t very forthcoming with what is going on.
It seems his cancer has spread to different parts of his body. He’s in a lot of pain, and the doctor said that he is going to be in a lot more pain in the months to come. But as far as his life goes? He’s nearing the end of it. They sent him home after they set him up with daily hospice visits for pain management. They said that, at this point, chemo would be useless. It’s a done deal. His fate is sealed. He will most likely be dead before he reaches his 50th birthday.
My Grams is all to pieces. She says it’s unnatural to bury your own child. I would have to agree with her. I can’t imagine burying my daughter.
I’m trying to figure out how I feel about everything. I’m sad for him. I hope that pain medicine can decrease the amount of pain he is in. I hope that whatever time he has left, he can have some quality of life out of it. I hope he dies on his terms.
Being that he has just entered my life over the past year, after thirty years of sporadic visits, and knowing nothing about me, nor I, him …. I can’t exactly sit here and conjure memories of him to be properly sad.
Because of that, I have finally realized that when people die, we are so upset because we have a memory bank full of things to think back on, and we realize that we will never again have that on this earth.
I guess I’m sad that my dad and I won’t have time to make new memories. You can’t make up for lost time when you have no future. I forgave him years ago for his abandonment. I accepted that I wouldn’t have him in my life years before I forgave him. He told me last year that he wishes he could wave a magic wand and do it all over again. But you can’t do that, can you? Once today leaves, you can’t have it back. It’s gone forever. He and I have thirty years of yesterday’s and limited tomorrow’s.
Grams and I are going over there tomorrow to take him some homemade soup. I wish I could feel more than what I do. When he does die, I’m not sure what I will feel. I’ve spent my entire life without him. The permanence of what is about to happen hasn’t quite hit me yet.
He knows that I love him. I tell him every time I do see him. He’s my dad no matter what. He’s my DNA. I am so much like him it’s ridiculous. He’s a writer just like I am. He’s introverted like me. We both love classical music. My fingers and toes look like his. He suffers his own demons silently and without complaint.
I’ve been sitting here most of the night, listening to Crywolf and trying to sort out everything in my head. It just feels like voided, empty space right now.
At least I will always have his words.