My dad is dying. Probably sooner rather than later. As much as I know it is the inevitable outcome for all of us, it is very hard to reconcile a world where he won’t be here. Not because we talk on the phone for hours at a time and not because i turn to him for advice on a regular basis. Just because…..because he’s MY dad; my quiet, loving, supportive dad. My mom is about to lose her spouse of 50 years, my husband is sad, my girls are devastated, my siblings are struggling and I’m trying to hold myself together for all of them, but mostly for my dad. It’s especially hard to be far away and not be there on a daily basis, drinking in whatever time he has left with us.
Two weeks ago during the FaceTime call where he and my mom shared his terminal diagnosis, I asked what I could do and he requested that I come for his birthday. He asks for nothing for himself so without hesitation I said yes. Last week, I traveled to my hometown to celebrate my father’s 86th birthday with him. It was bittersweet with 12 of us packed into the care home where my father lives. Surrounded by older people with a myriad of problems who will undoubtedly live their final days and years in this environment, we ate tacos and guacamole, sang happy birthday and ate cake and ice cream. When the cake came to my dad, someone yelled “Make a wish” and he paused and did just that, before his three attempts to blow out those three candles. “What was his wish?”, I found myself thinking; what does one wish for after a terminal diagnosis and 86 years on this earth? It was probably a wish for my mom, because that would be typical of my father but the moment caught in my throat and it was all I could do to stay in that moment of celebration with him.
During the next few days, we spent hours visiting with my dad, sometimes with a lot of conversation and other times with him just watching us interact. I was there for a conversation with the hospice social worker about my dad’s death ,which was conducted right in front of him. It was surreal and overwhelming, yet I was able to keep my composure until the social worker asked my 16 year old daughter what her feelings are about all of this, and with tears dancing on her lower eyelids, she simply said “This sucks”. She’s right….it does.
I’m traversing new terrain as this will be my first profound loss, but I also have two teenage girls who are going through the same experience. This is their Bapa, who we were lucky enough to live near when they were growing up. He went to their soccer games and their dance recitals. He and my mom were the best (and only) babysitting team to care for them during their growing up years. He makes them feel special just by how his face lights up when they walk in the room. He is able to give them love & affection outwardly, which with most everyone else proves very challenging for him. The void for them will be profound.
All of this creates an environment charged with a lot of emotion and sadness, but oddly enough, I’m not crying . Yes, I’ve shed a few tears but I CRY AT EVERYTHING. Crying is what I DO – it’s what I am known for in my circle. When we are at an event or function and something touching happens, my friends turn to stare at me to see if I’m crying yet (I usually am). And yet, here I am, on the precipice of one of the saddest things I have experienced and I am not crying. Is it going to come later? Am I just not a very nice person? Shouldn’t I be sadder? Do I love my dad enough? I have been wracked with guilt about my reaction (or lack thereof) to this experience. Until today.
When I woke up, I reminded myself what drives the heart and soul of Don’t Say Sorry; that each of us are unique and experience the world in our own way. There is no right or wrong way to feel, as long as you are being true and honest about what YOU really feel. Maybe someone will see my lack of tears and make a judgment about the kind of person I am. Maybe they will think I must not be very close to my dad based upon the lack of outward grief. But they’d be wrong……so very, very wrong.
So today I make these commitments to myself as I walk this unknown path:
Today I will stop beating myself up for whatever emotions I have or don’t have.
Today I will not feel guilty for not doing what I THINK I am supposed to be doing.
Today I will not let other people’s opinions of my reaction bother me.
While you may not be facing the death of a loved one, take a minute today and identify just one area of your life where you are beating yourself up for not feeling the way you think you are supposed to. Our hearts are wise and know how to care for us if we will just trust them and their wisdom; don’t let your head get in the way.