Where March, filled with good and bad, was a rough month to get through for all of us, she has seemed to, as always, made everything about her - not taking into consideration that we all have been dealing with the news. I feel as though I've lost chunks of time. I will literally be running at the gym and the next thing I know my 5K is done. Or I'll be starting my day at work then all of the sudden, the day is done.
Ever since dad's diagnosis, none of us has felt whole. Well except Kenneth, but he's usually the exception for everything. This doesn't give Jackie the right to treat us the way she does. No, we don't bawl our eyes out every time someone mentions dad's name. No, we don't tell sob stories to every relative that lends a sympathetic ear. We mourn in our own way and we like to think about the happier moments we've shared with dad.
I've yet to have a complete breakdown, but I feel it's coming. The more Josh and I talk about having children in the near future or about our families, it saddens me to no end.
My dad, only being 63, is lying in hospice fighting for his life, where Josh's grandparents in their late 70s are completely mobile with minimal health issues. My dad was active just a month ago. Josh's grandparents have had a chance to see 4 great grandchildren be brought into the world, and from what the doctors are saying, my dad would be lucky to see one grandchild be born. The worst of it, MY grandparents are still living.
My dad's parents are still kicking over there in Vietnam and don't even know what my dad's condition is. Today, they were only told that he was sick and in the hospital, which would have been true, if they were told so a month ago. It's so much more than that now and I hope they find out in enough time to at least get a chance to come see him, since our plans to send dad over there were rudely interrupted by the C-word.
I hate seeing him so weak and fatigued. Knowing that there isn't a thing that I can do to help does not make me feel any better. I hope he knows how much he is loved.
I've yet to have a complete breakdown, but I feel it's coming. The more Josh and I talk about having children in the near future or about our families, it saddens me to no end.
My dad, only being 63, is lying in hospice fighting for his life, where Josh's grandparents in their late 70s are completely mobile with minimal health issues. My dad was active just a month ago. Josh's grandparents have had a chance to see 4 great grandchildren be brought into the world, and from what the doctors are saying, my dad would be lucky to see one grandchild be born. The worst of it, MY grandparents are still living.
My dad's parents are still kicking over there in Vietnam and don't even know what my dad's condition is. Today, they were only told that he was sick and in the hospital, which would have been true, if they were told so a month ago. It's so much more than that now and I hope they find out in enough time to at least get a chance to come see him, since our plans to send dad over there were rudely interrupted by the C-word.
I hate seeing him so weak and fatigued. Knowing that there isn't a thing that I can do to help does not make me feel any better. I hope he knows how much he is loved.
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