I cannot express what an incredible experience writing my story and reading my sibling's narratives has been. Today my mom shares her perspective. Here is the final voice from my family's encounter with cancer and the loss of my father.
To read my children’s comments on their father’s death has been a very painful experience for me, yet I know at the time all this was happening I probably could have changed nothing. I cannot explain to anyone how devastating a cancer diagnosis one January day so many years ago was for me. I was forty years old and my oldest child had just gone to college, years of working to make a marriage the best it could be had finally reach the point of having a little time for ourselves and seeing our children begin to progress to delightful self sufficient individuals. In within a few moments my whole world changed forever. The fear and anger I felt that day are something I will always remember. I remember calling my friend on the phone and just bursting into tears. I cried off and on for the following three years. How could this be happening to my husband and our family?
From the beginning of his diagnosis we had always felt my husband’s illness would be terminal, having a sense of this does not make it any easier to realize it is true. It is a path which changes over time and as it becomes more prominent it is harder and harder to have a normal life. My heart aches as my children write about not being able to talk to me as their father’s illness progresses. Towards the end of his life my life was in complete disarray for many months before. I was not only watching my husband become extremely ill day by day, I was also dealing with the knowledge my father was very ill and I could not be with him, because of Lyn’s illness. I was so torn between the two most important men in my life each one so very ill and I couldn’t leave one to be with the other.
By September of 1993, my husband’s illness had progressed to the point where he had tumors on his brain stem and in his lungs. He had tried chemo the April before, but the results we had hoped for did not continue. The doctors were quite frank and told us not to expect anything beyond the first of the year. After dealing with an illness for such a long time, I was torn emotionally; there was a part of me wishing my sweet husband could be out of his pain and this nightmare could be over and the other part of me who wanted to cling to him as long as I could.
One morning eleven days before Lyn died we received a 5:00 a phone call telling us my father was dying and to come quickly. Sitting with my father for his last few hours was probably the most therapeutic experience my husband could have had. When my father died it was as though he realized it was okay to let go, that the world around him would survive and he could move on.
I can’t even recall the next eleven days very well. We attended my father’s funeral, relatives on my side of the family came from Utah and my very social husband was not even well enough to socialize during the evenings or at the family gathering after the funeral. All of the sudden his life seemed to be drifting away. As the days progressed, his breathing became more labored and he needed a breathing machine for oxygen and he could hardly function. More and more he used his narcotics to control his pain and he was growing weaker every day. We spent many hours just holding one another and talking of little or nothing, but enjoying quiet moments together.
On the day he died we started at the doctor’s office to have his lung checked and ended up at the hospital so they could help him breathe, our few months turned into a few hours. When I called Meredith we both expected him to make it for at least a couple of days from our discussions with the doctor. I never thought it would be a couple hours later I’d be calling her to tell her that her father had died.
Close friends came to see Lyn for the last time, by the time they arrived he was unconscious, the wife sat down next to his bed and held his hand, she was holding his hand when he drew his last breath. I rarely admit how sad I was not to be the person close to him during his final moments or how hard it was to have to call my children and tell them their father had died or to greet my two youngest who were bringing dinner with the knowledge their father had just died.
When I returned home there was a group of people waiting to offer comfort and help, yet my greatest wish was to be alone, to cry and grieve for my losses of the last two weeks. Unfortunately life doesn’t allow this process and it was a few months before I could face my personal pain and loss.
I often tell people how much I miss my husband and my children wish they could share their life moments with him, but I will always be grateful for the sweet experiences we shared during his illness and the precious life lessons learned.
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