My dad...

He's dying...

He's more than ready. He's been ready since Sept. 27, 2010, the day my mom passed away. All he ever wanted was to be with my mom... and for them to be happy. That happiness eluded my mom, consequently leaving my dad in the same position. He'll get his wish very soon.

It's been so hard to watch Dad decline. He stares at his hand, the one he did surgery with, the one he saved lives with... only to see that he hasn't been able to even hold a fork since his 4 strokes in early '07. Gone is the independence, the spouse, many friends, the house, the garden, the car, the dog that he cannot care for (Maggie lives with us now). Everything my dad owns is in his small apartment in the assisted living part of The Forum.

Books, magazines, a tv, a plant, a few clothes, meals in the dining room cannot sustain a man. When the body fails, dignity flies out the window and the life spirit dries up, what are you left with? Not a whole lot.

Susie and I have put everything we could into being there for Dad. We wouldn't have it any other way. Dealing with his frustrations, his loneliness, his 3-5 calls per day every day and watching the man who scooped you up as a child fade away is not for the weak. He is SO worth it!

Memories of your hand being so little, and his so big, that all you could hold was his pinky. Memories of falling asleep in the car (well, almost asleep) and knowing that he was going to pick you up in his arms and carry you to bed. Walking you down the aisle, holding your new baby, loving your husband like a son, saying what a fine person you've become and he's proud to be your dad.

Now it's Depends, smoothies because it hurts for him to swallow food, bed changes and morphine drops.

As I've stayed beside him all day today (Susie took yesterday's shift). I have heard him moan a lot. It made me think.... he's had morphine, he says he has no pain... So why all the moaning. I saw the same with my mom and with Hilary, although morphine doesn't do the trick when you're dealing with the cancer monster.

Still, they've all moaned. Made me think... Dying is hard. Letting go is hard. Maybe as you take a step down this new, brightly-lit path and although you feel warm gushy love up ahead your heart moans every time you turn around to look backwards. Leaving behind your loved ones, blue sky, green trees, sounds of a river flowing, hearing a child laugh...all hard. Even if you know where you're going and who will be waiting on the other side, leaving behind all you've ever known is tough business. That would be enough to make me moan.

I don't know how much time he has left. Days.... A week or two...

So here I'll stay, soaking up every ounce of him I can... every freckle, how he furrows his brow, his ear-to-ear smile, how he can still pinch with his toes, his silly voices, him mumbling in Arabic (because you return to what you knew first), the image of me holding his hand, the smell of his cologne, how I probably need to clip his fingernails one last time. ONE LAST TIME!

I'm bracing myself. Calm on the outside, shaking like a leaf on the inside. I've said everything I needed and wanted to say. We both KNOW what a special bond we have.

Parting is but sweet sorrow.

Love you, Dad!!

Love, Bethy