Sunset and evening star

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar

When I put out to sea.

My Dad has heard the one clear call.

Tennyson hoped that there be no sadness of farewell when he embarked.

I guess my dad wished that too-in vain because tonight I am indescribably sad

I have so many excuses for feeling like this. I grieve for my siblings who didn't have him as long. I grieve for my mom who has to adjust to widowhood without the comfort and support of her most trusted companion. I grieve for my nephews for whom he was a loved father figure. I grieve for my cousins who have lost their last uncle. But grief is so selfish. . I weep because tomorrow , I begin my fatherless journey and he won't be there to share the traveling tales or help with the repairs of the road. This is a journey, we must take however delayed, part of our developmental cycle. Interestingly, it does not appear to be a significant part of any theory of aging

KNowinfg my dad loved me and lived a long life does not make me less abandoned. Babies and I have something in common.

Moving on

Some one said that you only begin to live when you are ready to die. While some brave individuals may achieve readiness to die in their personal lives, it can be more difficult to function satisfacorily with the impending death of some one loved. You believe that you accept the terminal nature of their illness until something occurs that makes you hope again. Or the situation deteriorates and your grief returns even greater than before. Living on this sea=saw of hope and fear, despair and elation soon take its toll.

Although episodes of stress can provide opportunities of growth, physiologically, we cannot live as adrenalin junkies. Living in a constant state of anticipatory grief impairs function. Incredible people spend years with a sick child or spouse nursing hope to have their options dry out time and time again.

Sorrow is specific to each person. I am slowly letting go of the anxieties of things I cannot control or change. I try not to feel guilty that my situation gives me a respite from the day to day care-taking but I pray for strength for those who do . I remember and celebrate their unselfishness. God promised "as my days , so shall my strength be". I summon up strength for each day by removing anything to darken the shadows. So I try to be especially kind and patient. I cleared the air with a former friend. After losing the baggage of petty strife, I try to exercise and enjoy my hobbies. I will also make some plans for life is best when lived with all its possiblities. Weeping may endure for months of nights but morning always comes as God signs his name in shades of dawn.

Living in the Shadows

It is a month since my dad became ill. Three weeks ago, I started this strange journey in the shadows. We were invited into the quiet room of this teaching hospital and in the presence ot the chaplain told of our dad's poor prognosis. Earlier, we had committed Dad to God 's care but the pain of impending loss was almost unbearable. I stayed the night and following day in the ICU making my own special bargain with God and his condition stabilized. Two days later he was on the ward. He watched television and spoke a little . We thought that the bleeding in his brain had stopped. One day, he regained his swallowing reflex and ate all his meals. Next day, he could no longer swallow but the nurse assured us that he would go home after a period of rehabilitation. That day, I thanked God for a miracle.

We left the hospital walking on air. the sentence was lifted. Three hours later, the hospital called and asked us about resuscitation. They already knew. On January, 3rd as I visited him in another ICU, I read the Scriptures and prayed with him. I tried to sing but could not control my voice. I asked pointed questions. The drips hung from stands without being attached to his vein and I questioned his nutritional status. He slowly weakened and we thought that he won't make it . but he returned to the ward . Some days he was pyrexial,. some days not. Dad did leave the hospital and is now being cared for at home. As we celebrate each new day, we are brought back to reality by words like "hospice" and "morphine". These emotive words suggest limited time. But, every day in the last three weeks has been a bonus. Despite the crippling weight of impending loss, the ceaseless fight against creeping lethargy that dogs my days, I am learning to live with gratitude. All too soon, I'll be a fatherless child. My dad still has some lessons to teach me. Death is a part of life and can cast long shadows. Living in them is like visiting a foreign country. You may not know the rules or customs but you use a guide when possible. You enjoy the adventure.