Yet, he loves me and I know it. And I love him and he knows it. And that is the only thing which makes this nightmare tolerable. There are no longer any smiles when he sees me, no questions about my day. The conversation, such as it is, begins and ends with some worry he has at that moment.
Every action by his caretakers is suspicious. He cannot be convinced there are reasons for their actions, so all activities outside the norm are scary at best. He is getting more confused on certain things, still crystal clear on others.
Recently my niece and her husband were in Chicago. My nephew was able to bring home some ivy from clippings off the outfield wall at Wrigley Field. They brought these clippings from Chicago to Boston, and finally to Jersey...and my Dad. He is so proud of that ivy. It is one of the few things he has deemed "important." It was worth the dumpster dive, Ken...he treasures it.
It has become apparent that he has given up. He goes through the motions of eating, but only because we are there to push him. A food he ate today, may be something he won't even consider tomorrow. Yesterday was the first time he mentioned actual pain. Could it be the cancer is starting to rear its ugly head.. I don't know. I do know he has been lucky to be in so little pain thus far.
He cries so easily now. Goodbyes are increasingly painful for all of us. There no longer is any joy in the visits. We do what we need to do because of the man he was. He deserves this...and so much more.
But at the end of the day...I miss my Dad.
Love you Pops.
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