It's Okay

The past 36 hours have been heart wrenching. My Dad took a sudden, albeit anticipated, turn for the worst. He is sleeping nearly constantly, but it doesn't appear to be a comfortable slumber. He twitches and vocalizes, which I worry may be pain. When he is awake he reports that his pain is being controlled, so I don't press the issue. I think that this is just part of the process.

Yesterday I sat quietly on the couch next to him. Although he was sleeping I wanted to make sure that he wasn't alone during those brief moments of being alert. Despite his bloated abdomen, swollen and purple limbs and overwhelming weakness, he has not complained. I don't know if he is truly at peace, if he is being stoic or if he is simply too exhausted to explore those draining emotions.

I, on the other hand, feel like I am hanging onto a fraying thread. My heart is breaking as I watch my Dad slowly slip away. I don't want him to suffer, and although I am dreading his death, I want to make sure that he knows that it is okay. When he becomes too tired, when he no longer wants to keep fighting, or when he is weary of the pain, he can let go. We will miss him dearly, but we will be okay. We will grieve, but we will smile, laugh and continue to live. Even his beloved wife, although she will be heartbroken, will forge forward.

Today is my last full day with him. I've been gone from my family for two weeks, and they are eager for me to come home. It is going to tear me apart leaving, but I will contend with those emotions later. (Again, denial is my go-to coping mechanism.) For right now, I am going to continue to sit by my Dad and help him with whatever he asks. I love him and right now, his knowing that is my absolute priority.