People ask me every day, “How much does your father understand about your mother’s condition?” Then, they’ll say something like, “He’s going to be lost without her.”
Truth is, it’s hard to know how much he understands. He sees what we see. He hears most of what we hear, including the very open discussion with the palliative care team, in which we were told, “three to eight weeks.” That was three weeks ago.”
Last night as we stopped by Mom’s room after dinner to say goodnight, she was sleeping peacefully. Dad asked quietly, “Is she deceased yet?” I said, “No, Dad, can’t you see her breathing?”
“Well, I’m pulling for her,” he said firmly.
He’s pulling for her to get well and the rest of us are praying that she’ll pass quickly and without pain. We’re pulling for her, too, but I don’t think Dad would agree that we’re pulling in the same direction.
After Mom dies, Dad’s life will be very different and I have no idea how to prepare him for that. We just have to take one day at a time and treat him gently.
Sue
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