We’ve known the day would come when Marc’s dad would leave us and we knew that day would be sooner because of the numerous health problems he has. Yet, when suddenly you are faced with the reality of it and you hear the doctor say the words, “He’s dying” … everything just sort of goes into hyper-drive.
It’s a strange mix of mourning and relief and anxiety and uncertainty. It is good that he will no longer be suffering. It is good that he will be free from the limitations that dementia have placed on him the passed years. But it also becomes a reality that this strong man who loved his kids and his grandkids and whose laugh always made you feel so good inside will soon be gone.
And I think seeing him go at the age of 76 and thinking about what dementia robbed him off for almost a decade, it makes you sad about what could have been, what should have been. There is a strange mixture in the grief over someone who’s had dementia.
This Friday Marc and I will fly out to B.C. to say good-bye to Marc’s dad while he’s still with us. I don’t know if he will know we’re there, but it’s all we can do. Go to him and tell him we love him and will always love him, and thank him for who he was — with all of his imperfections.
I don’t imagine the truth of this whole situation will hit Marc or I until we get there. But through it all we pray for peace and comfort, for his dad, and his mom (who’s been so strong and so giving all of these years), and for the rest of us who remain as he goes on ahead.