When you love someone who is dying it is so hard to admit the truth. You see him day to day and his health is getting worse but you make up excuses in your mind why that is happening. You say he will be better tomorrow and today is just a bad day. You do not want to admit to yourself pr anyone else that your father is near the end. Maybe if you do not admit he is getting worse he will not die.
Dad's voice has grown weaker over the last few days. Today I talked to him for a few minutes before work and he was so frail had such a weak voice, it was just a load broken whisper. Dad is a man who could move a fridge up a flight of stairs by himself when he was in his mid 70s and now at 82 he has trouble putting a pillow under his head. How can that be? How can things change so fast?
If he was a weaker man he might be gone already. My heart keeps making excuses but my head tells me dad does not have much time left. I selfishly want to keep him with me at all costs but his life is so limited now, that is unfair thinking. He can still walk a bit with a walker and eat and talk a bit but most of what he was, is gone now, never to return. Dad is not in pain which is a great thing, modern medicine has saved him from experiencing that but most everything else he loved he has lost the ability to do.
Next week I am off work, it might be my last week with my father.
Dad's voice has grown weaker over the last few days. Today I talked to him for a few minutes before work and he was so frail had such a weak voice, it was just a load broken whisper. Dad is a man who could move a fridge up a flight of stairs by himself when he was in his mid 70s and now at 82 he has trouble putting a pillow under his head. How can that be? How can things change so fast?
If he was a weaker man he might be gone already. My heart keeps making excuses but my head tells me dad does not have much time left. I selfishly want to keep him with me at all costs but his life is so limited now, that is unfair thinking. He can still walk a bit with a walker and eat and talk a bit but most of what he was, is gone now, never to return. Dad is not in pain which is a great thing, modern medicine has saved him from experiencing that but most everything else he loved he has lost the ability to do.
Next week I am off work, it might be my last week with my father.
