My Dad

Life has been rough lately.  There's no easy way to say it, so I'll just put it out there:  My dad is dying.  He's had Parkinson's for 20-ish years or so, and now he's getting toward the end.  His body is giving out and his soul is getting ready to move into his new heavenly home.

Last Friday a nurse said she thought he had only a week left.  We dropped everything and I took Rowan and Henry to see him, just in case we didn't have another chance.  I had already talked to Rowan a few weeks prior to let him know that Grandpa was nearing the end of his life, but I had put off talking to Henry.  How does one explain the concept of death--real death, without respawning--to a child?  Any child, but especially one whose communication skills and comprehension are limited?

Rowan took it in much the same way I did--with calm acceptance, keeping personal thoughts and feelings to himself.  Death is a part of life, and we all will die someday.  My dad has lived a full and rich life.  He has nothing to regret.

Henry looked confused, then uncomfortable, and then really upset.  He couldn't find the words to verbalize his upset, which might have relieved his feelings a little.  He didn't cry.  He probably won't.  But he saw Grandpa lying there so still and quiet, struggling to open his eyes.  He hugged Grandpa and didn't get a hug in return, because my dad was too weak to lift his arms.  He can see the difference, even if he doesn't know how to talk about it.

In the days since then, my dad has improved again.  He's eating, opening his eyes, smiling at people.  We have more time.  But we don't know exactly how much.  I tend toward realistic pragmatism, and I didn't think I was affected too much by everything happening.  I haven't wept at his bedside.  I'm not lying awake crying at night.

But I've been short-tempered with my children.  I've been sleeping in, unwilling to face the 8:00 a.m. classes with Henry.  I told Matt that this year, of all years, we are Absolutely Getting A Full-Size Christmas Tree, not a miniature, even though I don't know where we'll put it.

My dad is the best man I have ever known.  I hope I can bring up my boys to be like him.