My Father is not expected to be with us much longer. Being the analytical person I am I find myself trying to sort out my feelings on this from moment to moment with little success.
My Mother has found her peace with it and for that I will always be thankful. We are not an emotionally open Family my Mother and I so of course when either of us does crack it is explosive.
We almost never both crack at the same time but this was an exception and it was cathartic and ugly and raw but it was needed.
My Father was in agony and it broke me inside. My Father is the classic “Show no pain, shed no tear” type so for him to clutch my hand in the Hospital and choke out “I’m in Hell” destroyed me.
I’ll likely never recover fully from that. Right now he is finally resting peacefully which I am told is the best that can be hoped for. They don’t know how long he has so now my life is lived in fear of the phonecall we will get eventually.
We said our goodbyes and now I move from anger to sadness to fear in a nearly continuous cycle. He wouldn’t want this for me but I can’t help it. He’s my Father and I still need him.
I love you Dad.