I spoke in my previous blog about my father getting Ill. Unfortunately he hasn’t gotten any better. The prognosis is not good.
When my mother passed it was quick and semi-painless. She had suffered with Alzheimer’s for many years and hadn’t spoken for 4 years. In a way her death was a blessing, an end to her suffering. My dad is a vibrant person, full of life, a great story-teller and the rock of the family. To lose him now is going to be a tragedy.
The biggest issue I am dealing with now is keeping him alive. The neurologist has told us that if he doesn’t wake up by Saturday, he doubts he will. My father left implicit instructions that he was not to be “kept” alive. Right now he is on a ventilator that is keeping him breathing. My older brother and I both agree that on Saturday if there is no change that we need to disconnect the ventilator. At that point God will determine his fate. If the good Lord is not done with him then he will continue to breath and live, if he wants him home then my father will die.
This has caused me to reexamine my views on death. Death to me was not a big deal. It was the end of a long and fruitful life, or like my mothers an end of suffering. Death was a moment of celebration of a person’s life, a going forward to a justified reward. The joining of spirit and god. In my microcosm of time, death is now my enemy, something that is taking my father away from me. I know that, as with all things, time heals all wounds. In a few days or months I will look back on this as a learning experience. I will celebrate my father’s life, as the wonderful thing it was. The current pain and depression prevents me from doing that right now.
My father and I had been estranged for sometime prior to his accident. I didn’t have enough time to fully heal that wound, and then I lost the chance. I feel cheated in a way that I didn’t get the chance to fully fix my folly of pride. You see, I was the one that felt less loved than the other children, I was the one that didn’t make the effort to keep in contact, I was the one that felt that “if he wants to talk to me, well he knows how to dial a phone too”. I didn’t realize that pride would bite me in the rear end now.
What you should do:
If you have your parents living and you don’t have a good relationship, try to fix it. Swallow your pride and go for it. Don’t let the moment pass where you can fix a relationship with just a few words. Remember they are the only parents you have, you don’t get another set.