"Grief drives men into habits of serious reflection, sharpens the understanding, and softens the heart" ~John Adams
"We can hold back neither the coming of the flowers nor the downward rush of the stream; sooner or later, everything comes to its fruition." ~Loy Ching-Yuen
There is that sense of the unseen layers, me watching me, experiencing the knowing. I knew my father is dying, but somehow some part of me didn't accept it. Maybe I still haven't really. But this layer of sadness is hovering closer to the surface. It feels different than when my mother was dying in 1984. With my mother there were too many things that needed saying that were left unsaid. I would have at least liked to have said goodbye.
I have tried not to let that happen with my father. Over the years, I said things as they came up; things I thought were important for him to hear.... such as my thanks for him choosing to be my father, for being there at different times that I really needed him to be when I was growing up. Unsaid, were any thoughts about the times that he was not there emotionally. I do remember, but long ago let any frustration or pain of those go as I accepted my parents as human after all. And now he is dying... three days, three weeks, three months.. more, less.. soon...
I cannot fix it or run away from it... or perhaps more accurate, this time I choose not to try to do either.