Why does dying have to be so difficult?

Mom and dad enjoying some quiet time together on their new deck that Mark built for them. The furniture is the Takano kids' "Parents' Day" present.

I love this picture of them together. They weren't talking to each other...they just lovingly looked at each other. Since they've known each other since junior high, I imagine that they can just look at each other and know what the other is thinking.

Madeline and I are home in Newport for the time being. At the time I packed us up, I could not understand why I felt that it was the right thing to do...to leave dad. It made better sense when I called my mom to check on dad. Mom said that after Maddie and I left that dad crawled back into bed and returned to how he had behaved last week when we thought we were going to lose him. That's when it clicked...Maddie and I needed to leave so dad could die. Sounds odd, but even the morning we left, as I kissed my dad goodbye, he said to me, "I made it to another Madeline day." The longer we stayed with my parents the more dad would fight to see his grandbaby. I should have known. Madeline was the whole reason dad fought his cancer in the first place. And, now, here he was again, hanging on, suffering, just so he could have another day with Madeline.

I received a text from my sister this morning which initiated phone calls from me to her and my mom:

"Hi sis. Rough night last night. Dad is begging us to help him end his life. He started crying. It hurts to watch one of the strongest men I know be reduced to that."

Those are difficult words to even type much less reread, but it's reason for this blog post today. Nothing ever prepares you for the dying process. It doesn't necessarily happen quickly. I am sick just knowing that my dad is suffering. Our family has strong convictions about death with dignity or assisted suicide, but once you're in a position like we're in, it makes you stop and consider...as horrible as it sounds, I wish my dad could die already. Why does it have to be so difficult?

Rollercoaster ride...

The emotions that revolve around dad truly feel like a roller coaster ride. I love him and want him here with me but on the other hand I love him enough to let him go. Monday night we all thought we were going to lose dad...today, he seems to have bounced back. We're all here...Liz and Alexis, mom, Steven, Suz, Maddie and me...and, Mark showed up on Monday. What an unexpected and wonderful surprise.

Dad was really struggling to breath. He was sleeping most of the time and was easily confused. It seemed that about the only time in his day that he was happy was when he'd see Madeline. He was never confused about who his little Sachiko is.

Now for the ride...today, I showed up at Mom and Dad's to find dad up and having coherent conversations with everyone. It's difficult for me to comprehend how one day he can seem so close to death and then the next day it seems that he can survive. What a confusing time. I guess, in a way, dad continues to hang on because he feels like he has business to take care. He keeps calling us in seperately to talk about what he wants us to have or what he wants us to take care of. I keep trying to reassure him that Madeline is ALWAYS going to know about her Papa and that he loved her so much he fought his cancer just so he could meet her and hold her. All of us have reassured him that we will all take care of mom. Important holidays, like New Year's, where we make mochi, will continue to be at mom's house.

Part of Dad's business to take care involved fishing. I smile as I think of this because the house we grew up in was picked for it's close proximity to the river. He pulled Mark aside to deligate to Mark the responsibility of making sure we all received certain rods. Dad also wanted to make sure that Mark knew that Dad needed him to "look after" the fishing needs of Suzanne and Steven. It was delightful watching my dad and my husband...the two men in my life that I love most...talking fishing, knots, rods, just all of it.

Dad and Mark tying hooks and talking about fishing.

Dad checking out the eyes of the rod. This is a fishing pole that he made for my Grandpa Takano. After Grandpa died, dad took the rod and used it. Today he said to me, "Since I am not going to be able to make a pole for Madeline, I'd like her to have this one." It's a beautiful 10 foot pole designed for lake fishing. Of course, since Maddie is still so small, I'll get to use the pole for a bit.

As I type this, I peek into mom and dad's room to see them both asleep, cuddling each other. I cry as I think about mom losing her life-time friend and husband. For me, I have a little ache in my heart as I again think about how this, once again, could be my last day with my dad. All I can say is that I'm thankful for this time that ALL of us have with him. His cancer has been such a lesson in love and in not letting time go by with your love ones without saying "I love you". It's a lesson in seizing EVERY moment...don't feel like that family BBQ? Do it any way...it may be the last one.