Dad is on his way out
2002-05-01 - 1:33 a.m.
My mom called me today. Dad isn't swallowing food very often any more. We've all agreed not to feed him via tubes or artificially make him breathe if he stops, so he might not last much longer at all.
When my uncle, Dad's brother, died, I couldn't think of anything to say. Today I started thinking maybe it's time to start thinking of what I would like to say at my dad's funeral.
It feels weird to think that way, but he's been mentally gone for a long time now, and his body seems to be finally giving up. It feels weird that for years I've begun to mourn since he began to slip away. I miss him often. When I visit him, I miss him, how he used to be. I've known for a while that I'll never be able to interact with him again as he was, in this world.
I'll talk about who he was. I'll try to think of a funny story and see if it's appropriate. He liked to laugh. I may talk about the dream I had where he came out of Alzheimer's for a moment to say good-bye.
