Here we go again

When I found out my mum’s cancer was terminal, the first place I went to was my dads house. It was a Sunday evening and it was late. He opened the door in his trademark blue dressing gown and he hugged me whilst I cried, not on his shoulder, he’s about a foot taller than me. But I had to see him. I had to know he was ok. I had to see that my remaining parent was alive.

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Before Christmas, I found out my Dad has cancer. He had it when I was in primary school, and it was so tough in so many ways - but he was going to be ok. I was so sure of it, I was certain. He’d been there before and he’d survived it. My dad was going to die an old man. He’d pass peacefully asleep on the sofa with Poirot on in the background.

But he isn’t going to survive. Not this time. It’s mental.

It hasn’t been 2 years since my mum died, and it looks like that by my next birthday, he won’t be here either.

Strangely, in the time I’ve had to come to terms with it, I’ve got my head around that part. I’ve accepted that he’s dying. Without the experience I’ve had before I don’t think I would be in that place. But it doesn’t make it any easier. I keep having to stop myself comparing the two situations. They’re very different.

I just can’t imagine my life without him. I felt the same about my mum I guess. I survived that, so I know I can again. But this is where the self-preservation is kicking in. Instead of focusing on the sadness and fear of what is coming - I’ve been putting all my energy into thinking about the end. I guess that’s because it’s the only part that is set in stone, the bit I know is going to happen. He will die. There will be a funeral and I will be fucking distraught for a long time. The bit between now and then terrifies me.

The trauma of the last few months of my mum’s life to this day still haunts me. Whilst I have managed to move pass the worst of it, I never thought I’d have to go back there. Not this soon anyway.

I’m starting to wonder, did I use up all my reserves of strength with mum? Will I be able to have those devastating conversations again? So far it feels like I’m running on empty.

I really never could have imagined that my parents, the two people who mean the most, would both be gone.

I’m only 26.