I've had a more social week than usual, including lunch with a friend whose father recently died. Listening to her talk about memories of her dad and the memorial service was especially meaningful to me, since my dad has been recently diagnosed with cancer. My friend and her dad were extremely close, in that they seemed more like friends and colleagues. I so admired that. He edited all of her books. They had long philosophical and intellectual discussions.
My relationship with my own father has none of that flavor, but as I look back over the decades, I see a fierce loyalty to me even when he didn't understand, and definitely didn't approve of, what I was doing with my life.
My dad's struggle with this disease has been difficult, with so many ups and downs of treatment. He feels rotten most of the time, not at all himself. My mom, who is doing an amazing job as his caregiver, says it's a good day when he's grouchy and critical because she recognizes her husband again. Often, he's spacy and unable to hold a thought for more than a beat. It's especially difficult, because my father has always been intensely independent (okay, pig-headed and stubborn), and it's nearly impossible for him to give up control.
My mom, dad, sister and I are struggling with the question that plagues so many cancer patients: Is the chemo worth it?
Hmmm. I intended this blog to be about my social week, but that will be another time. The picture is of my dad, my daughter and niece during a visit two summers ago to Dennis the Menace Park in Monterey.
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