I had been living some 7,000 miles away from my family, when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. While I was able to visit and, in effect, say goodbye – though I didn’t fully realize it at the time – I wasn’t present during most of her illness… and she died while I was en route to visit her for what I thought was going to be the last time. I had always feared losing one of my parents before I could get to them to say goodbye; being told, at the airport, that my mother was already gone, was indeed terrible – for both me, and the sister who had to tell me.
And yet, like other things I have feared, I lived through it (as one tends to). In my experience, grief does not so much “go away” as become integrated into one’s life. Grief changes over time in tone and intensity; you learn to live with your loss, and to let the person you’ve loved and lost, live within you.
I second those who’ve written here that one cannot anticipate what or how one will feel when a parent (or any loved one) dies. [Although the most resonant description of grief I read at the time was that penned by C.S. Lewis in “A Grief Observed”.] I also second those who suggest seeing, or speaking to your father, if you can – now. Alas, my father, too, is elderly and ill, and in a liminal state from which he may recover – or may not. I am privileged in being able to be with him and help him through this time. How long will it last? How difficult will it become? I have no idea… and though being with him has thrown my own life into a curious and unpleasant limbo, I cannot imagine choosing not to be with him just now.
I don’t believe it’s possible to say everything, to be present totally, to do everything you’d like to before a loved one dies. We are imperfect beings, and life is imperfect. There will always be things left unsaid, if not from the past, then from the future you won’t be able to share. All we have is now. Live in it – take what it offers – and be in peace.
May you, and your father, find strength in this difficult time.