What I felt in each instance [when her parents died] was…regret for time gone by, for things unsaid, for my inability to share or even in any real way to acknowledge, at the end, the pain and helplessness and humiliation they each endured.
Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking
How easy
it came to us—why
doesn’t Dad
just [insert
action here]: call the doctor,
or get off his butt
and go up
and sit with Mom, or
say something,
or agree
to wearing Depends. Perhaps
it depends on who
is doing
the asking and who
the doing.
This saying
is also true: you don’t know
until you’ve been tried.
The one-year anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up this Monday. He was (not) dealing with his own cancer throughout my mom’s time on hospice. Peace to our ♥s!
Serendippity 
*hug*
Thank you , David. :)
Mmmmmm. Another gem. Thank you for putting my feelings to paper.
Thank you, Janie. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels/felt this way.
my prayers are truly with you as you embark upon these times of bitter- sweet memories , your poems are always heartfelt, beautifully written, with such imagery and love. I always feel that, coming across the pages of life that you share… Blessings & prayers, hugs and support and comfort be your guided wings… my poet friend~ with love Krissy 💜💜💜✨🙏🏿
Thank you for the love and comforting words, Krissy. It means a lot.
🙏🏿💜💙💙💙💙💙
Now that my parents are gone and Sparky’s parents are nearing 90, this becomes a very real poem!
Yes. Each death (my parents, my in-laws) was different. It’s not like you can have a dress rehearsal for all the possibilities, either as the person dying or the person accompanying. You have to bear with yourself, with others, and with your particular circumstances with love.