My brother is basically in denial.
My aunt prays daily for a miracle.
My Dad’s wife … I am still trying to figure that out.
Each method of grieving is right. I am more practical. I have a heart though, and I am tired of being made to feel like not waiting for a holy miracle means you are evil. I do have hope. I really don’t know how my Dad’s body will respond to treatment. I don’t want to lose him. I love him more than life itself. I want him to beat this.
I’ve seen the 4.5cm inoperable pancreatic mass on the scan and the two smaller metastatic masses in the liver. I’ve had 5 doctors tell me the same stats over and over.
So in my reality, I get to be that person. That unfeeling person that makes sure my Dad’s affairs are in order. The one that is paying his bills and mine. The one that has Power of Attorney if health care decisions need to be made. The one arranging the funeral details, the will interviews, and harassing doctors for more pain medication. If we all live in denial, then what happens when God doesn’t grant his miracle? What if love and healthy eating isn’t enough? If my Dad goes, the last thing I want to do is be on hold with fucking Rogers and Telus, while preparing a funeral.
You can’t change how other people grieve or where they draw their strength. I don’t want to because I respect each persons journey. Does it make me a horrible person for not being in denial and being practical? I guess I’ll be the horrible one too.