I lost my dad a thousand times before he was laid to rest.
A tiny portion left every time he fell asleep in the conversation-
every time I watched him struggle to stand.
Every moment in Pain.

I lost my father long before he died.
I'm grateful for the day when fate comes to take him home-
to relinquish the grasp on the others around whose only duty has become to
tend to him.

Not selfishly has this role been granted
but through the necessity of care.
Selflessly they give to his needs and
foresake their own.

Is it better, I think, to loose at speed?
a Flash.
a Moment of pain and heartbreak and absolute devastation
rather than this drawn out agony of coming to terms with the loss?

I suspect the hurt is more when it comes without warning.

And you cannot fathom the benefit of missing out on watching the slow death of someone you love
Because in all that blinding pain you beg for just one more moment-
yet do not specify what moment -
do not specify it not to include wiping away the drool or smelling the smell or seeing the rot of the disease.

When it creeps up, an unknown force that smashes into you,
you wish for More-
forgetting that the alternative is for it to creep in knowingly,
knowing that the next step is due but not yet here.
Waiting for the invetiable to arise.
Taking chunks away in the slow ebb and flow of tide washing in.

The Tidal wave of suprise floods over and is over in an instance.
I lost my Dad in the eddies and pools of fate washing him away long before he dies.