Death

We're so afraid of death. And it comes in so many shapes and sizes.

I talked with my dad today. He's dying. Three and a half years ago he was diagnosed with MSA (Multiple Systems Atrophy). It means that multiple systems in his brain are shrinking. His particular MSA looks like Parkinson's disease - he shakes and shuffles and has trouble swallowing, etc. My dad is being stripped of his dignity - he feels humiliated. He also feels ignored. That's because we've been ignoring him. I rarely call. I rarely see him. He only lives 25 minutes from my place but being with him is difficult. All the rules have changed. He usually tries to make light of all that's going on - in hopes of covering over his embarrassment. But today I called. And I asked the hard questions, like, "How are you doing emotionally?" It wasn't long before my dad was sobbing into the phone. And then I was. He talked about the embarrassment, the fatigue, the night terrors. He told me that mom is reading to him each night out of a book about the new heaven and the new earth, but we very carefully danced around the word death. I talked with him about how hard it was to be with him and how I wasn't sure how to treat him or what to say. He said, "Sometimes I just need someone to cry with."

So we cried. Together.

Everyone in the family tries so hard to avoid this pain, this death. Pretend. Cover over. We start fights with each other to distract us from this present dark place.

Lead us on, Lead us on,
Into the darkest places, lead us on.

Spirit come, Spirit come,
Into our darkest places, lead us on.

Dad said I could call him any time I want to cry. I'm hoping to do that again soon.