almost ironic

For the past month and a half, my dad has been in Florida tending to my great aunt who is ill. It arose out of a call from my great uncle in the wee hours of the morning asking him to come because my grandmother's sister was in the hospital in terrible shape. That afternoon, my father dropped everything to fly to Florida to be at my aunt's side.

Once he arrived, he discovered an ailing aunt, who barely recognized him, and an uncle suffering from dementia, prone to intense rages at the drop of a hat. Needless to say, it has been a difficult month for him. He would call me sometimes in need of an ear and a laugh, telling me about a rage that morning where my uncle forced him out of bed at 5am because he thought he was a terrorist. Or another afternoon where my uncle threw all the food in the house out, including groceries my father had just purchased that afternoon, because of all the bugs. Bugs that didn't exist, but my father didn't have the heart to argue. This also includes day after day in the hospital, dealing with my aunt's illness, her subsequent strokes, a viral infection she acquired that could have been life-threatening for any visitors including my father, and the ups and downs all elderly and intensely sick patients have.

My dad lost his job during this month and a half because he was unable to go to work and the Family and Medical Leave Act only covers immediate family: parents, siblings or children. Although my mom wrote his employer letters and made numerous calls, the dismissal letter arrived all the same.

Still, he stayed. And when I'd speak to him on an almost daily basis, he would tell me that he had stopped at the local church to light a candle for my aunt. Ever wishing that she would get better, when all I could wish was for her suffering to be over. But it isn't my father's personality to ever wish for the end of life. He wanted her well again, but it was not to be.

My aunt was moved into a nursing home earlier this week because she seemed to be in a vegetative state. My uncle's rages had been increasing in size and frequency, despite my dad's visits to his doctor and requests for help. Finally, on Wednesday, my dad decided that it was time to leave. He had promised to wait until my aunt finally passed away, but given the state she was in, there was no telling when that might be. And living with my uncle was getting to be impossible. He booked a flight to leave today to return to California, said goodbye, and boarded the plane at 6am.

On a layover in Denver, my dad received a call. My aunt passed away this morning.

My heart breaks for him. For the guilt he said he feels, for his fear that this is somehow God punishing him. For the terrible awful timing.