So it’s been eight weeks since my Dad received the news he had eight weeks to live. I had guessed the C word would come up, I wasn’t surprised by that, I just didn’t think his time left would be measured in weeks. Such a small unit of time.
At first I was more sad than I ever knew possible. Usually I allowed myself this time when driving. I just wailed at the sadness of all this. Balling that he was being taken from us. That lasted two days, I haven’t done that since.
After that I felt centimental about everything my Dad was a part of, I didn’t want to throw anything away that was a piece of him. Used train tickets, cards, unused video clips… Almost like if I collected enough objects I could preserve my Dad, but life isn’t Harry Potter and horcruxes don’t work in real life.
Since then I just want to listen to my Dad, soak him all in. Learn his views about things that matter to him. After all he is a very wise man. He can live through me.
So eight weeks on. The chemo seems to be giving us time, and quality time together too. My Dad is currently in little pain and coping amazingly. Everyday he is finding the joys in life, but he always has. He is very peaceful about death, I am now too. This is something he has taught me these past two months.
You can not be angry about something you can not change, it doesn’t help. Instead accept that death happens everywhere all of the time. In fact it is our only guarantee in life.
I am thankful it has to happen this way. This way we have time to share and laugh and prepare. I feel blessed. I feel lucky. If my Dad has to die, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
We are being looked after through kind words, prayers and dinners. For this I am also thankful. We are hopeful that we will have more quality time. We are also peaceful that when the time does come, we will be cacooned with the support our friends are already showing us.