Seventeen Days Ago

I wrote this post about my Dad seventeen days ago yet, for whatever reason, didn't publish it. Here it is now.

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This past Friday (July 6, 2018) I was able to spend some one-on-one time with my Dad while my stepmom was visiting the neighbors down the hill. It's the first time he and I have been alone together outside of a hospital setting and I was finally able to tell him that I, too, am having a hard time dealing with his illness.

I could feel tears burning behind my eyes as I said those words and it took everything in me to hold back the downpour as I told him, "Dad, I just can't imagine my life without you in it." As he dabbed at his own eyes ("they've been watering a lot lately" he mumbled) he reminded me that everyone dies sometime and that "this will probably kill me".

"I know, Dad, that's the natural order of things...still...unlike ALS, you won't die from this [myasthenia gravis], yet I'm watching it suck the life out of you." He went on to say that he "wants to see 80, then I'm good."

My Dad will be 78 years old in September. He has outlived his brother, two sisters, his mom and dad and his first-born son.

Watching my Dad lose his independence - it's hell and seeing him depend on others for things he used to do for himself is heartbreaking.