Let Evening Come
How do people do it? How do you lose a parent, or any loved one? How do you deal with it, and not let it consume you?
My dad was just diagnosed with lung cancer. It's pretty advanced, and he doesn't want traditional chemo. Surgery and radiation are not options.
This has floored me. I'll admit that I'm unprepared and unwilling to face my parents' mortality.
I think of friends who have lost a parent, and how they handled the situation with grace and strength. I hope I'm able to do that.
The oncologist has not been terribly forthcoming with a prognosis. A year, maybe? Maybe. We'll see how he responds to the treatment plan laid out.
I'm trying to think of all the people who lose loved ones in a heartbeat. With no warning, someone you love is gone. I'm lucky that way. I get a chance to make the most of the time that's left.
posted by ann surely @ 11:15 AM
9 Comments:
I'm so sorry! Call me any time with questions and such; I'll help if I can. :(
Hey, that's a bad deal. I'm one of the folks who lost a loved one suddenly and unexpectedly. My mom died from a massive heart attack at 45.
The day before she died, she called me at my office and wanted to talk about my son's upcoming christening. I remember that I was very busy and bum-rushed her off the phone--I was always "very busy" back then. That was the last time I ever talked to her. She died the next day.
It really sucked when I found the little rocking horse she bought my son in the trunk of her car. She probably wanted to tell me all about that afternoon but I didn't have time for her. It had to be assembled. That wasn't very easy to do.
Only God knows how long any of us have here. Enjoy the time you have with your dad--and everyone else you love.
So sorry to hear this. Through the pain you will learn some amazing lessons about life. The rest of it sucks major ass.
Thinking of you...
Tess
Aka Cranky Chick
I'm sorry to hear about your dad.
I lost mine a year ago suddenly while my parents were on vacation. I'm on the road to recovery but I never got to tell him what he meant to me. It just eats at me.
It looks like you have a good plan of enjoying him while you can. I can't imagine knowing I would have a short length of time with a parent. My thoughts are with you and your family.
I'm coming over via Karen's blog. My dad died almost 12 years ago. I'm still not sure how I've made it this far. I hope I had grace, I'm not sure. Most of the time, I was a wreck and needed more help than I knew to give. Sorry to hear about the diagnosis ...
I have lost both before the age of 35. You have to keep going. It is hard. I am here if you want to talk. Hang in there with time it does get easier.
Hey sweetie. I think it's beautiful that you are able to see a positive side, being able to cherish the time you have left. That right there shows your strength and character. Just be there for your dad. I honestly can't imagine how hard it would be. Love and prayer your way...
Wow, that really hit close to home. Since I'm a bartender, I like to read food server blogs and I was reading yours for the first time, and it really struck me, because I just lost my father Oct.3 and I'm still having such a hard time. You put into words so much of what I've been feeling. My dad was unable to get treatment but had planned to. Then when it wasn't an option, we knew it was a matter of time. It was so hard, so heartbreaking to see him in pain and getting weaker. But he always put on the brave face. Luckily he didn't suffer too long, but we still had that time to appreciate at the end. You are right in saying that you at least get the opportunity to spend as much time as possible with him. Be there with him and let him know how you feel, try to keep him comfortable. My heart is with you.
I heard a poem read aloud and never found out who wrote the piece. After some investigative work I found out that the title of your page was "Let Evening Come." Your title is the same title as Jane Kenyon's poem. If you haven't read it, do so. Although there are many themes related to different aspects of life, the motif of death is ever present. Letting evening come is a peaceful moment despite everything in you that tells you differently. Here's the poem:
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
-- Jane Kenyon
Post a Comment
<< Home