At breakfast on Sunday my Dad appeared more normal than he had in weeks. Better rested, more with it. I was a little upset before going because last Sunday's breakfast had felt...a little like a last supper. And I didn't want one every week. But it was OK...Todd noticed how hard Dad had to focus on getting the creamer in his coffee and he was wearing a new pair of drugstore glasses that made him look a little like Junior Soprano as his depth perception is shot, but other than that he seemed with it. I did notice, however, he only ate one egg. I grew up with a father who devoured everything he enjoyed and if you didn't eat your steak fast enough, Dad was scooping it up saying if you don't want it....
He has gotten skinny and has told me he wants to gain weight...but I guess he just wasn't hungry for it. My Mom lavished Adam with attention...oh how he loves his grandma....
The food sucked, both Todd and I ordered french toast and it was burnt on the outside and undercooked on the inside, but it wasn't too crowded for a Mimi's on a Sunday. Both Adam and Abbey stayed content.
Later that night I spoke with my father on the phone. He remained fairly "with-it". We spoke a little about what was going on. He told me, hesitantly, that he had seen his father in the backyard a couple of times. I told him not to run to his dad too fast and if he sees the light, walk don't run. He thought that was funny...but as my Dad isn't one to see ghosts or other, I'm pretty certain he is hallucinating either via the tumor or the medication (though he isn't heavily medicated yet it seems). So despite the fact it was a good day, the progression continues.
Things like that I know my Dad would feel comfortable telling me or Bobby but probably not anyone else. I am glad he feels comfortable doing that, but I have to balance the line between being there for him and not consuming myself with sadness. I think I am on the right track.
He told me his father, who died of cancer when I wasn't quite two, was lucid and proud until the end, sending his mother (my grandma Charlotte) out of the room so he could die alone and not be an emotional burden to her.
He said losing a parent never quite goes away...that it'll sneak up on you from time to time when I told him that one of my few memories of him crying was when I was 4 or 5 and it was because he was missing his Dad. I told him to try and not over medicate...to remember how many times he had told me he wanted to be as lucid as possible until the end and he told me he was going to try and take Tylenol first when he got headaches and then take something stronger if need be.
Pictures Coming Soon...
You told him to walk, don't run....oh the Duttinger sense of humor. You just can't pass up a joke. You know...that is just like your dad, don't you?
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