This is a rather long entry, but I feel I need to write this somewhere.....

I have some questions towards the end of this post so bare with me. 

I'm 27 and lost my Dad about 10 months ago to stage 4 cancer (unknown primary source). About this time last year (October 2020) he going to the chiropractor for back aches (he assumed he pulled his back gardening). That didn't help so he began testing, (with no success). Finally, a MRI found a tumor on his spine. I nearly passed out when I got the news.. My family lives in America and I was here just starting nursing school so I decided to keep studying until we knew a bit more. I was in bits with a constant pit of dread in my stomach. I had never felt so anxious and far away from home. It quickly became apparant that he was declining fast. Once my parents became more difficult to reach I sensed things were worse. I flew home earlier than planned and luckily made it back for the final 10 days of his life. He died only 6 weeks after his diagnosis. 

This was especially shocking for my family, our extended relatives and friends because of how healthy he was (people would write e-mails etc saying SURELY if anyone can beat cancer- you can). 

I'd like to share a little bit about him. My Dad was an exceptional athlete (he cycled 120,000 miles a year and ran 10,000 miles a year for over a decade). He took such care of his body. He didn't drink alcohol, never smoked a single cigarette nor did he eat unhealthy food (with the exception of chocolate ice cream). Cancer really doesn't care, does it? He was due to retire soon (he was 65) to continue traveling the world and wanted to lead bike tours around the US. He travelled most every continent on a motorcycle back in the 80s/90s before meeting my Mom in Texas. I did tell him that he did more than most people do by the time they are 80. He studied math and phisolospy in his leisure time, enjoyed travel (obviously), loved gardening, nature was his happy place. 'Work first, play second' he would always say. He was always sensible, explorative, intelligent, compassionate, curious and a loving husband/father. 

He encouraged me on my travels (I lived in Vietnam for 4 years before movng to the UK). He was on FaceTime with me every step of the way as I applied to nursing school. Although he never told me to be a nurse, I later found a journal entry from 2012 he hoped I would come to that conclusion and I would make a fabulous nurse. I also found a unopened email containing a letter he once wrote to me.

This time of the year is particulary triggering. It is the start of my second year and the same time he was getting his tests done. I am finding my grief especially difficult. I'm crying every day and have no appetite of desire to do anything. I wish I could be sharing all of the things I am learning. The course is becoming more challenging and my rock is gone (on top of being miles away from home). 

I also feel guilty that when I was home I didn't spend every night sitting next to him. Is this normal? I slept in my own bed but knew he was probably sitting in bed consumed with the thoughts of his impending death. I am particulary upset about the fact he had to endure that emotional stress, anxiety and pain. I am mad at myself that I didn't do enough. I should have sat by him every day all day. I know he was very scared and heartbroken his life was cut short, but I never explicitly asked him what he was feeling. Is it horrible I didn't ask him or sit with him every chance I got? I am trying to remind myself of the care I did give him but it's hard. I should have gone home sooner and I am experincing a lot of guilt.

I am so very sad and I miss him and his wise words dearly. The night he died I spilled on his shirt and changed it, he held my hand close and told me it was good nursing practice. He was still awake at 3am when i went to give him a kiss but was gone by 7am. I hope he just dozed off and slipped away in his sleep but his eyes were open which has worried me he felt the pain. He wrote on a white board 'quality of life?' his last hope he would feel a bit better. It hurst more than anything the thoughts he must have been feeling.

If you managed to read that far fair play. I have been in a deep pit of depression. As it has been 10 months I feel the support has become less (naturally people have their own lives to tend to) but I am angry the time has gone by this far as the longer it gets the more people expect me to get over it (well that's what I think). I now live by myself hoping I could just let it out in peace but I am lonely. 

I could go on and on but I will leave it at that.