…in my continuing to read about and talk about brain cancer, etc. My dad is gone; it’s too late for him. There is not one single thing I can do for him any more. And every second I spend thinking about his disease and his death is one second taken away from the rest of my life.
I’ve been spending a lot of time second-guessing his medical care, wondering why he suffered horribly and died when so many other people out there with this disease, and occasionally in equally poor condition, recovered. I guess I should stop. There are certainly things we could have done differently. I don’t know if they would have made any difference. But you know what? At this point, I can’t change any of it.
A surprising number of people don’t want to hear about it all. They tell me tell me they are depressed by or don’t want to hear the story of his illness and death; they are too affected by it to listen. They can’t handle it and distance themselves, or avoid me. So not only did I live this, but nobody wants to hear and I feel like I have leprosy. So I write. I hesitate to write because my dad was a private man. But there is a line between his story and my story; the story of his life and disease are his but the story of my grief is my own. And as the days and months pass, he feels more and more solidly “gone.” So sadly, I guess it matters less and less now what he would have wanted. I do small things sometimes that I know would have either made him happy or annoyed him, and…nothing. I don’t feel his presence. I haven’t received “signs.”
It is getting cold. I am at least happy that my dad did not have to go through one more winter. For many years I walked or I stood outside waiting for the bus…to school, to work, whatever. I loathed and continue to loathe winter, and the cold and darkness, more than anything else in the entire world.
I just read this article on terminal lucidity where people have one lucid moment at the end when they can speak again and interact with their loved ones. It didn’t happen for us. There was no miracle, neither biological nor supernatural. There was just death.