Dear Dad

Just a few more days til Thanksgiving Dad, and I don't know if you will be alive then or in what condition you will be in if you are alive.  You are dieing.  I know this.  You don't know it. Even so, you sense that something is wrong.  You express your anxiety by talking about the traveling bumps in the back of your head or the scab on your leg necessitating an amputation.  You've had the dementia for many years now Dad.  

We've got plans for Thanksgiving together Dad.  I'm to come and eat with you and your buddies at the assisted living place.  I hope you will still be here, but it's okay if you won't be.

My heart is breaking in pieces every day now.  I watch you struggle to do as much for yourself as you can.  I watch you fight for your words, your ideas, your desires.  I don't know if I am even one tenth as brave as you.

I never thought in a million years that things would end up this way.  Every minute that I spend with you is a minute that I treasure.  I am privileged to be able to spend this time with you.  And when you do die Dad, I hope you die when you are sleeping before the real misery sets in.  You've been through more than enough.

                              I will always love you.