So, more officially, we know that my dad has the mysterious and insidious “Pulmonary Fibrosis.” Progressive, terminal, and no cure; with the average life expectancy after the onset being 2-4 years.
I've been more or less mentally preparing myself for the concept that my dad does not have a lot of time left here with us. But this kind of smacked me in the face, yesterday. Especially, the dredging up of my own past regrets of not being able to get to know my grandparents until they were very, very old (and a couple of them, much at all), and the knowledge that - in all likelihood - Rose will never remember the grandad with the twinkle in his eye. And Lucy is just going to remember this old man with chapped hands and tubes going into his nose that sat in a chair in the corner of the living room.
Tangentally...cause I don't want this to be nothing but a bummer of a post...
I just finished the documentary "49 Up," last night. And the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Checking in every seven years on about fifteen different lives, from the time they were seven until age 49. In the special features, the filmmaker (the same guy through all 42 years) spoke of these folks' collective transformations through the years, and how they all coalesced at a point when they were about 35 (me, being 37), when their parents (and lots of relatives and peers of their parents) started to die and they are first beginning to be faced with a sens of their own aging and mentality.
I'm looking forward to the peaceful acceptance they all got back to, by age 49.
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6 comments:
It's very sad, as much for the specific loss as the process. It's extraordinarily difficult to witness the collapse of people that for a significant portion of your life were the source of safety and security. These were the people with all the answers for a while, and even after the shine comes of that set of perceptions, these are still people with wisdom to share.
I can say with some authority that time does heal those wounds, and while there will always be moments of sadness and loss that surface, it won't be the dominant emotion.
Best wishes to all.
I don't have as much authority as Pat does, but I empathize: this is a hard thing to go through. The closest experience for me is the death of my grandfather five years ago, after a long bout with Alzheimer's. My father-in-law died suddenly. It's likely no comfort now, but I was stunned at the perserverance my family showed during these times and afterward.
Coincidentally, I just finished watching the "Up" series over the weekend. I echo your thoughts, and was struck by the simple visuals of the subjects aging, dealing with loss in their families. I hope they can carry through a few more editions of the series.
I should check out the whole series. The compilation single "movie" defintely leaves one yearning to know a little more about the individual stories.
Thanks for the thoughts, both.
I will be thinking of you and your family. I think I can understand how that finite bit of news could smack you in the face. How is your dad handling the news? Your mom? I wish them the best. Make the most of the time you have left - I am sure you will. Peace.
I will pray for you and your family. He IS a great man!
Gibbs: I've not been down there to visit since the final diagnosis came down, so I haven't really had much of a chance to guage how he and my mom are handling things. I do have reason to believe he's been thinking about his mortality quite a bit in the past year or so, and has (my brother says) spoken a few times about the new place they're about to move to as "a good place for your mother."
T-Clog: Thanks, man. I think so.
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