Thank you for all of your kind words and your prayers. I know that many of you have walked through journeys of intense suffering, and I don’t for one minute believe that my sadness is any greater than yours. I know that each of us has our own burdens and challenges. I appreciate the encouragement you offer me through this trying time for my family.
I have never been in such a low spot as I was this weekend.
What I have felt involves so many different feelings. One involves someone I love so much, marching toward his death. We are all going to die. It is inevitable. This is a truth we all know and have evidence for. I also believe that there is something beyond this world and that is a belief I hold without the evidence in hand. But, my heart still grieves so much because I have realized anew, how much my Dad means to me and how much I love him. It is just going to hurt when he is gone from this earth and that is a reality.
I also have a feeling of raging against God yet again. I am glad that He can handle my feelings. I hate Huntington’s Disease and what it does to a person and to families. I can’t understand why God, who “fearfully and wonderfully” created all of us, would allow such a terrible genetic disease to be in my family—or rather any family. What did my family do to deserve this? I know I won’t understand that ever, for the answer isn’t available. I also see families sharing pictures or stories about precious moments with grandparents and I feel a little jealous. My Dad was incredible with children. He entertained so many of them during his life. My kids and my niece and nephew haven’t really gotten to experience this with my Dad. Some of my Facebook friends have shared how my Dad brought such joy into their lives when they were kids. I am glad that he shared that gift with everyone he could. I am just sad because that is something we have lost.
What brought me the greatest sadness this weekend was the news of his suffering. One of his medicines seems to be causing really bad issues for his heart. However, reducing or eliminating that medicine will cause other issues. There really isn’t a “win” situation. It is more of an issue of figuring out what is best for him here at the end of his days. As I heard about his suffering this weekend, it hit me hard. I don’t want him to endure this, day after day, until his heart gives out. I don’t want to lose my Daddy—but I don’t want this suffering to continue either. My memories took me back to nine years ago, when Dad was on his last visit to Indiana. We were in my living room in our little apartment on Fountain Street in Anderson. I can almost remember it like I was there again. Dad said, “I really want to take my life. But I won’t do it, because I know how much it would hurt you.” I’ve been thinking about that. It makes this suffering even more difficult to bear, because it feels like he is suffering so I will not be hurt. I know I didn’t cause any of this…but, the feeling exists that he chose suffering for the love of me. (Yes, there is a great spiritual lesson there.) My Mom believes that my Dad didn’t really want to take his life or no one could have stopped him. But, his love for me deterred him, and now I feel added anguish at his suffering.
I told Casey that I never have felt this bad. After I talked to Mom and Dad and heard Dad tell me that he loved me, I just wept. I spent most the day weeping. I did go to church, and cried through the service. Then I just crawled into bed and cried some more. I have never felt that depressed—or unmotivated to move—even though dishes, laundry, cooking, and school work were all calling my name. I didn’t care.
I spent a month helping my Mom care for my Dad. I had to say “goodbye” to him and come to Indonesia. My heart was torn, and I cried buckets—but none of that has felt this bad. I feel like Wesley, in The Princess Bride, who had some of his life sucked away. I feel that has happened to me this weekend. I feel raw, torn and incredibly sad.
Those of you who have walked this know that we have to choose to praise God. We have to choose to surrender our loved ones into His hands. We have to choose to rejoice in the midst of the pain. Right now I am so thankful that God gave me such a great Dad. He endured much during his life and is enduring much right now—but, he loves me. That I have known forever and I am still sure of, and that I treasure. I am sure that the other things that I need to choose will come in time.
Thanks again for your encouraging words and for loving me and my family through this. I am praying God will ease Dad’s suffering and provide him help, but will also allow me to spend a few more days with him when I go this December. That is my hope, but it definitely has a selfish element. What I really want, at the deepest part of me, is for my Dad not to suffer with this terrible disease any more. So, I hope, I pray, I wait…and I cry.
sharonbernhardt 