Inevitable Sadness
An old friend’s father has cancer. He’s not doing too well, and neither is the family. It’s spreading throughout his brain, and he sometimes doesn’t even remember who they are. It’s a terrible position to be in, to know that you will be losing your father, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Sure, you can get him hospitalization, hospice, various drugs, therapies and what not, but all those things seem to do is stave off the inevitable. Which in this case is going to be sooner than later, as the transition is apparently a few short weeks away.
I remember when I lost my father. It was a terribly difficult time in my life, and it took a long time to get over. I really can’t say that I’m over it completely, even three and a half years later. I still have a picture of him and I at his seventy-fifth birthday celebration on my desk at work. People ask me who it is in the picture with me, assuming it’s a grandparent or uncle or something like that. Then I tell them it’s me deceased father, and I always get the sympathetic, “Oh, I’m sorry. It must be hard . . . blah, blah, blah.” It just brings back memories of him, and doesn’t always do me much good.
I remember one time talking with him on the telephone one late summer afternoon. It was when he was still at home, and everyone in the family was just starting to realize how serious his health problems were. While I was talking with him, he passed out, or had a mini-stroke, I’m not sure. Whatever it was, it resulted from low blood pressure and not enough oxygen getting to his brain. I just heard the handset he was talking on fall to the floor, and then silence. There was slight breathing in the background.
While keeping that line open, I called 911 on my cell-phone, and got an ambulance to go the house. It was quite disconcerting, because I heard him get up, and he walked to the front window wondering why there was an ambulance pulling in the driveway. I talked to the EMT on the land line, and my father was taken to the hospital for observation. He didn’t even remember being on the phone with me. It was a very sobering experience. Even until the last time I spoke with him, he still did not remember talking with me that day, a day that I may have saved his life.
It was a nice day, the last time I saw my father. I stopped off at Weinberg Campus to see him after work on a sunny, fall Saturday afternoon. He was having lunch with his roommate and an acquaintance. I must have spent about two hours with him: laughing, talking, walking, and enjoying time together. It was nice, spending some one-on-one time with him, just enjoying each other’s presence. I’m glad I took that opportunity to spend some time alone with him, as I did not know the next time I would see him would be after his passing.
That probably did more for me than any amount of counseling would ever do. The very last memory I have of him is a hug and a smile, and it means ever so much to me, more than anything else. Whenever I’m saddened by the loss, or I find myself missing him, I just remember that moment. I know that in spite of everything else that ever happened in our relationship, good or bad, the last thing we did was show each other how much we cared for and loved each other.
Now, my friend is going through the same thing I did. I hope they have at least as pleasant a last time together as I did with my father. It’s the best thing you can do, when you know you are losing someone. Don’t dwell on it, the inevitable parting of ways, especially when you see him. Talk with him. Laugh with him. Sing songs. Play games. Tell jokes. Enjoy yourselves. Don’t belabor or harp on what is coming: just savor the time you have together.
Enjoy life while you can, because that’s what it is all about: sharing good times and creating pleasant memories with the people you care about and love. By being there and having fun with them, they will know that you do care about them, and how much you care for them. It’s the best gift you can give someone, letting them know you care. It’s also the best gift and the best healing you can give yourself: letting someone else know you care about them. For even though you may not be with them, you will know that you are in their thoughts, and in their heart, giving them someone to smile about.
We can all use a little smile, now and again. Have one on me 
