Letting Go

Is a blog supposed to be lighthearted fluff, or can you talk about more meaty things? If the blog-gods are offended, perhaps lightning will strike this very keyboard and my career as Blogger Novice will abruptly come to an end.

My father-in-law, with whom S (husband) was not close, died yesterday evening at 66. FIL had M.S. for 10 years or so . . . the paralyzing, painful strain. He lived in a convelescent "old folks" home where he could get 24/7 care and had access to plenty of morphine and a cocktail of other pain inhibitors. His outlook matched his quality of life, which was poor.

It is good he's not suffering physically and mentally anymore. His mind was fully functioning and so with frustration, he witnessed his body gradually decline, to the point where he could barely feed himself. His environment was utterly depressing to say the least. As a sidebar, I will discompassionately mention it could have much better if he had taken care of himself when he was first diagnosed, and did more to prepare for his own care and keeping when he was still relatively healthy. These inconsiderate decisions affected his sons by default.

While I'm glad FIL is finally at rest for his own sake, I am more relieved for S, who though grieving in his own way, can let go of caring for his father. It's been a long road of regret, guilt, apathy and odd affection for the father that tried (but not quite hard enough) to the best of his ability, and made and broke lots of well-intended promises. At least, that's how it looks to me, the outsider.

S is in San Diego now taking care of the final arrangements - I hope he'll have a chance to visit the old haunts and spend time with people who have known him his whole life. They were there when S was dealing with the detachment of an alcoholic, absentee father, and they saw S make a life for himself in spite of it. Grown Up S is clear headed and taking it all in stride, and Im as proud of him as I could be. But still, I know S The Boy is still in there somewhere, the boy with that sweet, hopeful face who just wanted to go fishing with his Dad. I wish I could take that little guy into my arms and tousel his hair until he was ready to be let go . . . because I love him too.