I'm writing this post from my Dad's room, where I've been camped out since last friday when he went on hospice care. Dad's been growing steadily weaker over the last 3 years, but he surprised us all when he rallied in the face of my cancer.
I think it's fair to say he was frustrated and felt he wasn't able to be there for me, but he did the most important thing... he rallied.
It was as if my illness gave him the strength to stay healthy and strong, because he knew that it would be hard on me if he became sick or injured and I couldn't be there for him. So, he rallied.
This fall he began commenting on how long my hair was getting and that I was looking healthier and I think he knew then that the time had come when he could rest. That he didn't need to rally for me any more. And so, it began... the new journey.
Over the last few months he has become more and more weak. It became difficult for him to find the right words, difficult to talk, difficult to walk, difficult to eat. So, now it is my turn to rally.
He's not speaking any more, nor is he walking or eating. It's time for his body to rest.
But oh the journey his soul is embarking on. Even in my sadness, I find joy in thinking of the wonderful journey he is about to take. It's one he's planned for his whole life, and one for which he can leave all baggage behind.
And as I sit by his side, I become ready to see him set sail; sad, because I will miss him; but rejoicing in knowing that his burden will be lighter for the road ahead.
