Dad has been unwell for years, but in particular two years ago he was diagnosed with an aggressive lymphoma. A tumour was removed and we were told that he was too frail for chemotherapy and so it would stay in the blood and reappear perhaps in three months, perhaps in two years, probably in his spine. When it reappeared they won't be able to do anything about the cancer. Since then he has been in and out of hospital, he keeps falling and breaking bones. Most recently he had a hip replacement and he got out of hospital about ten days ago.
Yesterday, something suddenly snapped in me. I think subconsciously I realised that the tumour was back, I have no idea really. My brother phoned to say that mum wasn't coping with dad at home and that was the trigger. I have been in tears on and off since. Today dad was readmitted to hospital with many crushed vertebrae and the suspicion is that the lymphoma is indeed back.
Two things have occurred to me:
1. Dad is going to die fairly soonI seem to either feel sad, or if I put it to the back of my mind, I feel anxious. It is all most peculiar, this sudden grief, and like I said at the beginning, I feel like I am seven years old again.
2. I love him and I don't want him to die.
Below is a picture of me and dad outside some building in Virginia, if anyone recognises it I would be interested. These are the only two pictures I could find of myself with my dad. He was away quite a lot.
UPDATE:
Ah it is Mount Vernon - thanks Ann
23 comments:
I remember when my Dad was in that sort of situation right before he passed away, so I know how you're feeling.
Almighty God, look on this your servant, lying in great weakness, and comfort him with the promise of life everlasting, given in the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Prayers also for you, my sister in Christ.
That's a very moving piece ... thank you for sharing. May you all know God's presence to strengthen and to comfort in these days of deep darkness. I hope you can continue to take moments to think 'aloud'.
Do you have a support network on whom you can rely for help - a spiritual director to whom you might go?
God bless you.
My dad would have been about 86 this year. He died three or four years ago; we knew it was coming but it was still so hard. You and your family are in my prayers, Leslie. Peace.
My mother had a cancer at the end of her days; she either didn't feel it or want to feel it, and it was absorbed into her dementia.
Our lives are transient, as I was suggesting this morning. We have to value who we are and who we were.
On her last day I said hello to my mother who shuffled herself about. We sat about, talking, and then I said about having to go sometime. At that point my mother did a choking sound and stopped breathing.
Consciousness is something of a mystery and very special. We sat about after her immediate death, and on going I touched her shoulder. I assume she could not have perceived that - the fine line crossed is an absolute. But that 'compassion' in the end is for the living to develop. My mother's fine line crossed was the last line of a thousand thousand deaths.
If you can know something similar, then you will manage, and frankly I think this is better than me wishing God this or that to you which I don't believe. We are who we are in each moment, even in a condition on the edge. Once it is over, the book is closed, and you'll have it.
Lesley, I'm so sorry. I offer you my sympathy and my prayers for your dad, for you, and for your mom and the rest of your family.
Love and blessings.
You bring out the Dad in me--it´s such a miracle...imagine, a real live Dad who will live forever in your life because he´s in your bloodstream/DNA--quite literally, my Dad reminds me that he´s around all of the time--sometimes it´s even something I´ve said.
Blessing to you and your family,
Peace be with you
Leonardo
Prayers Lesley - for you, for your dad. Hard times - the death of a parent --
Lesle, our love and prayers are with you.
It is a time we all dread, as we truly never feel old enough to not have our parents around, but your father will be there, watching, proudly, as you instil his values into all around you.
When I lost both my parents, I was sad, yes, but happy that they had left me with their legacies, to carry on in this world as a strong, independent woman, and I thanked them for that
ake care of yourself, and know you are loved xxx
Gosh, thank-you all for your love and kind words - it is good to feel so supported.
Lesley, thoughts, prayers and cyber hugs.
At the end of this month it will be 10 years since my mother died. I sat with her during her last fortnight as she lay in a coma, and we played her favourite music to her. I still cry when I hear some of the pieces.
The sadness came back again when her sister died just before Christmas- the last of that generation - and it is partly because we are now unmistakably the grown-ups: no-one older to go to for comfort.
You are going through the mourning process now, so take care of yourself now, and after he finally goes. Hope you continue to feel supported, both by people close at hand, and through the web.
This is one of the hardest times in life and there's no easy way through it.
I've been watching my own Dad get increasingly frail, and while he seems to accept it, I rail against the ageing process that reduces a formerly hugely active man to less and less and less.
What gives me comfort is that he seems to accept it better than I can, and I remember my grandmother say that you slowly grow into dying and it simply becomes part of your journey.
Hugs and prayers for you all but especially for you.
Lesley,
I will be praying for your father and family at a difficult time for all.
My Father died in 1987, I had been away on an exercise deployment, and had known that he was ill, but he had been ill on and off for years.
Our relationship had always been fraught, he was a bully, domineering and had basically, not a nice person to know or live with.
We had fallen out many years before, and I was not in close touch, my younger Sister was his Next of Kin, so I left everything to her.
The shock of being notified that he had died, despite our differences and what I now know of his other activities, was something I had not expected. Perhaps I was reminded of my own mortality?
I returned home, and went and completed the formalities of identification, funeral arrangements and gathered his things together. It was pitiful. He had been a life long smoker, and while he died of other causes, he had taken a packet of cigarettes with him into hospital.
He had been living with someone for years, so they were devastated by his death. Strangely, I an my siblings seemed to unmoved by it.
I believe that it took me several years to adjust to the fact that he was no longer there - despite everything, he had brought us into the world, so I believed that I owed him at least that.
It is only recently, as part of spiritual direction that I have been able to come to terms with the full impact of both his life and death and have felt able to forgive both him for his actions and myself for my neglect of him in his final years. It was pointed out to me that he might well have been someone who suffered the after effects (post-traumatic stress) of his service in WW2, where he was involved in the heaviest fighting in the Desert and through Italy up into Austria. I know that my Uncle, his elder brother, who survives, still suffers all of these years later.
Now I can reflect, pray for him and light a candle for him weekly.
I can only look back in sadness at a flawed parental relationship and childhood experience, which effected me and my siblings life long.
I think one of the hardest things about ones parents getting older, ill or even dying, is the realisation that they are human. In that they have always been there for us. Always there to call up for some reassurance, or to have a cuppa with, or even if they live far away, one still has the knowledge that they are 'there' if we need them. Even when relationships are been strained, they are always 'there' in the background of one's mind.
But facing the illness or death of a parent also means accepting that they will not be 'there' anymore. (I'm not sure I'm explaining this very well, I'm not trying to point out the obvious!) My father in law died 7 years ago, right after the birth of our son. It was hard for me to fathom the fact that he wasn't going to be 'there', that he wouldn't see our son grow up, and he wouldn't be coming round for Sunday lunch, or moaning about our wine choice...! Even now I feel those pangs of realisation (or grief) when I see photos of him and realise he isn't part of our lives anymore.
But he was once, and we have those memories, which no one can take away. Right now I imagine you are immersed in the practicalities of hopsital visits and so on, but don't let that overcome who your dad is to you.
Sending you hugs and love
red x
The building looks like Mt. Vernon.
Thanks Ann - you are right.
Thanks for your stories UKViewer and Red. I am going tonight to see him and mum. The docs are thinking that it is more a degenerative back problem than a tumour but they aren't sure. In fact he hasn't any new fractures this time. It is a question of getting the pain under control and sorting out some adequate care (initially at home but maybe a nursing home).
UKViewer I think you have done amazingly well to come to that place of acceptance with your father. In a similar circumstance I am very doubtful whether I could get there.. triumph of light over darkness, I guess.
Thanks also preacherwoman. Amazingly powerful - the way music evokes memories - there are some tunes I can't bear any more!
This really hit home with me as I have been feeling like this over the last year as I watch Dad getting weaker, it's so hard seeing the strong man you've always relied on change. With lots of love to you.
OK I see the comment verification is working now.
So I offer hugs, hugs, hugs.
I remember how tough it was when it was MY dad 6 years back.
Sorry to hear that things are getting worse for your Dad, it is horrible when we realise that our parents are not going to be with us much longer. The more so because clergy are used to dealing with death - only not that affects them in such a personal way. My prayers are with you. Every Blessing
My father died last year.
At one level, I am jealous of the fact that you have some warning that your dad's end is coming soon. Clarence had been declining for years, and there was no reason to presume he woouldn't continue declining for several more. I had seen him the previous Sunday (Fathers' Day, as it happened), when I had done the service at the care home where he and his 2d wife lived.
The only warning I had was the call on Friday that I should go to see him because he wasn't doing well. I went that evening (on the way to something else) instead of putting it off to the next morning. I found him out of his mind and in emotional and physical distress, and once the nurses and aides had managed to get him into his bed, the charge nurse told me that he likely wouldn't see August.
As it turned out, he wouldn't even see July. He died early Saturday morning.
But at another, I feel blest that he was aable to be his curmudgeonly and dyspeptic old self until very near the end, and that I only had to see him actually dying for less than a few hours. And I'm sure he would have found some humour in the fact that what finally killed him was not his past drinking or his past smoking or his obesity or his diabetes, but rather the complications of an infected pimple on his backside.
The only really hard moment, really, was Sunday morning as I read the Gospel at mass. I knew the line was coming, but I was not emotionally prepared to proclaim the line "Let me go and bury my father."
Thanks for your prayers and stories. I went 'home' last night and stayed over with mum and then dad came home today. Ex hubby kindly stepped in for me with the kids.
We're all feeling brighter, I think, although dad seems to be in endless pain :( Things seem to have stabilised again and mum is looking at nursing homes which might help.
I so appreciate your kindness and love.. feel like I am back in a less emotional place again, more accepting I will have to let dad go at some point.. he was there for me when I was a kid, but not there for me forever...
Prayers for you and yours too Valerie.. it is so tough.
Sorry to hear of these tough times, and will keep your father, you and your family in prayer.
Love and best wishes, to you and your dad.
Post a Comment