[tdunks]

My father passed away on October 31st this year. It's been less than a month since then, but I keep feeling guilt about not always being there for him.

My father got diagnosed with thyroid cancer in April 2015. I was finishing up my last semester of college, so I received this news from a phone call. My mother called and told me, and she said that they could fight it, and hopefully he could survive it. Although, she seemed startled and hurt, she had a sense of optimism of fighting it. That's just how she is, she is a positive person and has always been the supportive rock of our family. So even though it was terrible news, I knew my dad would fight it with all he had, and didn't think it was as bad as it actually was. I graduated on a Sunday in May, and that following Monday, my dad went into surgery. I got to spend a lot of happy times with him on Sunday. He was in surgery for around 8 hours that day, and the surgeon said that it was a lot more intense than they thought, and on that Wednesday, he had another surgery where they broke his chest cavity to try to get most of the mass away. The doctors felt pretty positive that they got most of it then. He was in the hospital for about a week and a half, and I stayed with him and my mom, while my two brothers had to go back home to work (we lived about 3 hours away in a rural area). I stayed with them two and hung out with him. He went home towards the end of May. When we went home, I was feeling really positive that he would be able to fight this. He always fought for what he wanted, and the last couple days of his life, he told me to "never half-*** anything I did." So I really believed that he could fight this. He was my dad, and I thought he was invincible. (Which now looking back, I feel this is a very immature thought).

He was going to recover from the surgery and in mid July, start radiation and chemo. I was home all of June and spent time with him and especially working in his garden while he told me what to do (Gardening was his favorite thing to do), and come July, I went out to Vermont to work at a farming summer camp for teens. It is the best job I could have ever asked for, I was able to help a lot of teens struggle with different problems they were facing and just being a teenager. My mom gave me hints that I should stay here in Indiana, but she never told me it exactly, because I know she wanted me to do what was best for me, and at that time, I thought it was going out east. So throughout the summer, I would talk with my mom and dad a couple of times a week. (I had very limited service out there). The radiation was on his throat area, and he lost his ability to swallow or drink, had a feeding tube inserted, and had a hoarse voice. I came back at the beginning of September, having made plans to move up to Burlington, VT to live with some friends and work with children in the foster care system.

When I got back, I took him to his final two weeks of radiation. I went to his doctor appointments, and at the end, they seemed really positive about the outlook. They said as far as they could see, he was cancer free. So good news. He was going to come back late october to get a check up to see if it came back. I spent about a week with him and my family, but I needed to get back to Burlington to go to some job interviews. Him and my mom encouraged me to go up there and do it because they knew that is what I wanted to do. And with the recent good news, it made it a lot easier.

So I say my goodbyes, go back to Burlington, get an apartment, and score a dream job. I was supposed to start October 29th, the day he went back for his appointment. At the beginning of that week, my brother called and said that his face was swelling up. I talked with my mom and we both decided that I wouldn't rush back home yet and just wait on the news. On that Wednesday, my mom called and said that she thinks it is best that I get back home for the rest of the week and weekend. So I drove back, and got there Thursday night. My employer was totally understandable about it and my dad even wanted me to stay up there and work. So I get back at 8pm, and there is a whole bunch of family and friends out. And my mom comes meets me outside and tells me he has at most 2-3 weeks to live. So we have some tears together, and then I go inside and talk to my dad and everyone. My brothers and my dad went to my parents' bedroom just to talk, and he told me some of the greatest advice. He just talked about kindness and always treating others with kindness even if they don't treat you with any. That Friday, my dad was walking around and talking with friends and family all day. My brothers left to go to a football game, and about 6:30 he had trouble breathing. I called them to come back. They came back and our whole family came out and our close friends did to. He was truly suffering and we all said our goodbyes. At about 8:30 the hospice nurse came and gave him morphine, and she said that he was really anxious due to the amount of people there and thought he would make it through the night at least. So our priest that was there, kindly said a prayer and asked if people would say their goodbyes for now. Everyone did and left. My mom's sister and aunt stayed with my mom, dad, two brothers, and me. We kept giving him the morphine, but he kept getting up and trying to keep moving. My brothers and I had to stand by his side constantly due to him being too weak to hold himself up. About 11pm, my brother and I kept noticing him reaching for something on the ground. We finally noticed he was planting seeds throughout our house. At about 1:30am we called the hospice again and we decided it was time to go to the hospital. We got there, my dad by ambulance, at around 3:25. At around 3:35, the nurse came running in to the waiting room to get us. And we all rushed into his room to be with him. He and all of us held hands and said a prayer with him. I felt him die in my hands at 3:37. The nurses let us go in there by ourselves and said our goodbyes. It was the hardest moment of my life (and I'm sitting here crying just typing this). My mom signed the admission papers when we were leaving. Family and friends came out. We had over 500 people come through the showing. My dad loved and helped alot of people and it showed. It was amazing the support we got then and continue to have.


But I feel guilty most days. I feel like I should have recognized the signs and stayed with my dad through this time when he tried to fight cancer. I feel like I let my family and him down by not being there for him. He told me not to and so have my brothers and mom, but I still feel that guilt. Should I feel guilty? How can I overcome this guilt I feel? I have so many good memories with him and want to think about those times, but all I can feel and think about is this guilt of leaving him when he needed me to be with him the most. I feel like I will never over come this guilt I have for leaving him.

[Cat_Lover_58]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Hugs, Cat

[chimera17]

I lost my dad to cancer 4.5 years ago. Losing someone to cancer is never easy, and feeling guilt over all the things we could have done differently is completely normal. As you process your grief, I hope you can find peace with these last few months - it sounds like you are exactly the child your father hoped you would be! Loving, supportive, and full of life and vibrancy and compassion for others.

[winter4me]

You did spend a time with your father, and your family, during a most difficult time for any family---it sounds like your relationships are solid, the guilt is normal but not helpful or warranted. Remember the gardening, the moments, and you were there at the end...even had you not been, you did well....generally, when someone is so ill, they do not want others to stop everything and stay with them all the time.......life is still going on as long as a person is alive. I think you did very well. Give yourself (& yr mom etal) a big hug and thanks for being there.