Preparation

I'm leaking. As I sit here and watch Dad sleep, I leak. Tears. Snot. All of it is just rolling out and pouring down my face. I'd describe myself as nothing short of a hot mess at the moment.

The rapid deterioration in the last week has caught me by surprise. I suppose a bit of that has been some aspect of denial. As someone close to my dad once said to me when this diagnosis first occurred, "Jen, if anyone can beat this, it's your dad." For the last 18 months, I have believed that to be true. My whole life my father has been "one tough dude," and I believe everyone else would concur on that note. However, as I sit here with my head on Dad's feet and watch him sleep, I see this little old man who put up one helluva fight, and now he's just tired......and I realize that the changes in his physical and emotional being are signs of preparation.... of shutting himself down.

Ugh....I'm leaking again.....

Earlier this evening, after Mom and Jill left, Dad asked me if I were "taking all of this in stride." "Yup," I responded. "Good," he said rather sternly. Sounds like Dad, right? He's not only preparing himself, now he's preparing me.