Last October, the doctor discovered that my dad, who had already suffered from three strokes, was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer. Six months since then, with radiation therapy, increased and decreased and increased again-dosages of morphine, dad still suffers every day — wheezing, fever, pain, confusion, limited mobility, fatigue, inability of eating, and various side effects from medications ... He is in pain, and we feel it too.
I am deeply saddened. Every time I think about his current conditions and our past moments together, my heart clenches in pain, my throat feels sour, my nose tingles, and tears fill my eyes. But after calming down, I know that I have mostly accepted the fact that he will leave us in the near future, and I understand that his departure will free him from suffering. Even though it's hard to let go, I want dad to find peace early because I love him and don't want him to suffer.
I am grateful that I seem to have achieved "sorrow without suffering": I allow myself to feel sadness and grief, but I know how to continue living calmly afterward. I allow myself to miss dad's physical presence and soul, but I am not attached to his life, and I am willing to let go without unnecessary attempts to save him. I recognize that sorrow stems from compassion and reluctance, but I haven't let sorrow transform into suffering or let the bitter emotions control me.
It may be too early to say that I have completely let go, but I am thankful to dad for teaching me invaluable lessons about life and death.
