My dad died of lung cancer about 3 weeks ago and he never smoked in his life. He was only 67 and had got over throat cancer 10 years ago which left him with difficulties which upset him. He got metastesies to the spine which parylised him in his last 2 weeks of life, he was previously an extremely active and practical man, and a builder and gardener, creating wonderful and beautiful things. I wasn't able to see him for 4 months due to coronavirus lockdown, and I missed sharing my 30th birthday with him. I previously visited every weekend, driving after work to be with my parents.
When I saw him again, in his last 2 weeks, I had to physically care for him with my mum. It was physical and mental 'torture' for him and he expressed he already felt he was in a coffin and was choking and couldnt breathe. He would wake up confused, forgetting he was parylised and bed ridden with a feeding tube he had fitted again 5 months prior. He no longer had the pleasure of drinking and eating at all in his last 5 months. There were times when he cried and begged to die, which was distressing for us all. Other times he was hopeful and looking up plants, and gardening projects we could do for him, or outdoor wheelchairs to get in his beautiful garden. He was stuck in a hospital bed and desperate to get out in a wheelchair on a deck we quickly built for him so he could be out in nature in his beloved garden. He never got that opportunity to get out of the bed.
Luckily in these last 3 weeks since he died, the sadness, grief, disbelief and horrible visions and nightmares and memories have faded slightly in favour of pleasant and loving memories of the past. The panick attacks and feeling of being lost have reduced somewhat. I still wake up and forget for a split second, thinking he'll be sitting out I'm the sun with his cat drinking a coffee, and giving the cat his buttery toast crust. I rouse myself to go join him, and then I remember he's dead. His cat is sleeping next to me now which is a comfort.
I am eternally *** off that I lost my dad when he was too young, and so am I, and so is my mum and sister. I know others lose parents even younger, but I am bereft that he will not meet grandchildren and be there for important and mundane life events.
Luckily I am off work, but my job entails working with older people who need healthcare and much of the daily equipment my dad had to use. I enjoy the job a lot, but they disclose to me their agony of losing spouses to cancer, or having diseases themselves, and I would cry in my car afterwards thinking this awaits my dad shortly. So I am frightened to go back to work and see/hear it all over again. In addition lots of people's older children in their mid/late 60s (same age as my dad) used to offload to me their concerns of their parent's ailments/diseases or would complain about the NHS for minor things when we are doing our best; and all the while I was 30 and my dad was dying, and I had to listen and console people in their 60s who worry about their 80 yr old parents. It took all my nerve not to shout at them that at least their 80/90 year old parent was still here and not dying yet! Whereas my dad who was in his 60s had little time left, and I couldn't even be with him due to lockdown. I felt so robbed that I was allowed to visit other people's homes in a mask and ppe to provide equipment and health advice, but not allowed to visit my own dad.
I am worried to go back to my job as I am annoyed at older people who still have their parents alive and well or lost them at a natural age in their 80s/90s.
It is sad for everyone to lose a patent, but I feel robbed that I lost my dad when I was 30.
We were very close and similar, and used to laugh, argue, talk, create projects and creative things, debate, share rude jokes, and share gardening and practical tips.
I dont know why I wrote all that I'm just annoyed at life being sh*te, and can't believe my dad has died, and I have to carry on and be normal, and other people still have their parents well in to their 60s. They've got over 30 more years than I do, lucky beggars. I guess this is the anger stage? Although I still don't believe it's real.
I am doing some of his gardening and repair chores around the house, but I'm not as good, or parts of his tools have been misplaced.
I'm annoyed and sad, and jealous, and numb that I lost my dad years before I should have. He deserved far more years of life, and he really would have made the best of it, just as he did to the very end. The world has lost a brilliant, creative, witty, and humorous man who cared a lot for nature and practical creativity. He was still making creative building and gardening plans and writing ideas in his little book, and telling us step by step how to complete them on his behalf. He has left a great legacy and we are proud.