Does he really want to go? Really?

I arrive. He's asleep. I stroke his head, trying to arouse him from slumber. He responds minimally, and I mean minimally. He doesn't look up. I start talking to him and get a little response. How are you feeling? He mutters unintelligibly. I put some apple juice up to his mouth. He sips a tiny amount. I keep doing that, and some of it drips down his chin. I keep talking. He can't even look up at me. Should I talk about his life? Should I ask him what he wants us to do with his remains? It's very hard to guess what I should do. New territory now. We're in new territory.

I feel pretty sure that my brothers will suffer more than I will when he passes.  I suffered when Mom went, and I really suffered. My sister, I can't say if she will suffer. She is somebody I barely know right now. This is so slow and drawn out. It's a shame to see the decline in this fashion. I guess we all would like our father to keep being himself, and then die of natural causes in a peaceful way. It seems that he will die of starvation. He'll experience organ failure more than likely.

But, really, how long can someone exist without hope? I just don't see that he's got any hope at all for anything to change. What could have been? That's always what we wonder. I could have taken him to Tijuana to get his dentures fixed a little. He can't even chew lentils now. He spits out the skins. How can you enjoy eating lentil soup when you have to chew forever on each little bite, and then spit out the skin? Maybe I could have pushed harder for better rehab therapy. When he came here he was recovering from a broken hip. He just got weaker and weaker. They scheduled an hour on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. That was no good at all. He needed 15 minutes twice a day. It seemed like he lost capability so fast.

How do you get stronger at age 98? He should be able to walk, but doesn't have enough muscle left. He still looks pretty good, if cadaverous at 115 pounds. His hair and skin are healthy. But that doesn't get you out of a wheelchair. That doesn't get you to where you can go anywhere and enjoy yourself.

I need to try to comfort my brothers. It's very hard for them to lose their dad. Why do I feel somewhat detached? Over-exposure? Have I come here too many times, leaving my husband and my home and any hope of doing anything productive, just to have him refuse to drink anything, and even be temperamental with me? When I say temperamental, it's not really descriptive of how he acts. He can be mean and rude.  Well, he did love us and was the best dad he knew how to be given his upbringing.