Could be two days, could be two months. My father-in-law’s illness is terminal, and it depends upon keeping his lungs free of fluid, but there is no pain from the tumors that slowly press against his esophagus, and destroy the lining of his stomach. So we sneak into the hospital with food we know that he likes. Tonight I made Finnan Haddie. We meet my sister-in-law coming in on our way out. She’s got corned beef. Everybody coming in and out of the hospital in the early evening hours seems to be carrying plastic containers camouflaged in some way.
I didn’t think I could stand it again, but somehow even helping someone face dying is something you do when you’re needed. It was awkward at first; he’s hard of hearing and the doctors weren’t sure he’d understood. We weren’t sure he did either, or whether it was how he wanted to cope with it, or maybe he wanted to hide it from us. We all decided that he was in such a great mood that it didn’t seem necessary to sit down and holler, "Hey listen carefully, you do understand that you’re dying, right?" But in the meantime, one of the nurses made it clear to him. We could tell that tonight. When we left, he said, "I love you."
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Setting Suns are beautiful when you write about them… I feel the rays and the warmth. I am sorry YOU and Yours have to go through this again and hurt again. Such is life. We all die don’t we. Seems you must be used up… but you place things once again in words we can all relate to. Grateful readers we are; YOU feel and we grow. BIG Hugs sent. I wish I had words enough to help… more than these.
I’m so sorry.
Thanks, guys. Dying shouldn’t be feared, and yet it’s such a hard thing to talk about that I fear only for the lack of communication when time is so short. In learning how those facing death need to deal with it, I’m learning to adjust to their needs. And hopefully, learn how to die gracefully and meaningfully when my own time comes.
I’m so sorry.