He wears the ever-growing signs of physical deterioration around his being like an albatross whose neck has already been wrung. Twisted. Warped. And drooling uncontrollably.
He appears to watch passively from the sidelines as his independence slides out of his fingers; sometimes in great leaps and bounds but often, rather more slowly. Kind of like the difference between the way high and low tides mash waves into the shore.
At first he presented us with a freefall. A mass of tears, agony, uncontrollable bowels (for months!), and then… unconsciousness.ICU. Pneumonia. Mystery illnesses the best doctors in the state are yet to solve.
And then a slow and painful recovery, during which I finally and for the first time in my life, learned more about who my father really is and how he feels about me, than I’ve ever been privy to.
You could even say… I never knew my father til he was dying. And then hallucinating, unbeknownst to any of us. And in that place, where the veils also thin, it seems he really saw me, also.
He saw around me… fairies, he called them. He asked in his quiet and mumbly manner, Why is it that I see so many fairies around you? So many more than around anyone else?
That question should’ve floored me given our lack of conversation on such topics EVER before. But my dad was dying, I’d known that for months.
So I simply told him why. That as a light worker – someone who works with energy to help align and heal others – I work with these beings of light. Call ’em angels, fairies or anything you please.
Which led to a most unusual conversation, culminating in my dad asking me: How do you get to be a fairy?
Ha! I’d never thought to ask my guides such a thing, but here was a seventy year old man who’d never shown even the slightest interest in spiritual topics, asking me the sort of question I’d expect from my sweet young nieces.
After yet another crisis of unconsciousness where we were once again told of my dad’s imminent demise, they solved his months of hallucinations by changing up his meds (yet again). No, he hadn’t had hospital delirium since he woke up in the ICU, he was just tripping on publically funded, hospital prescribed meds.
BUT… oh, he remembered his hallucinations with amazing clarity even once he was clean. He remembered the fairies and told me that he’d miss seeing them.
And then he asked me even more questions about my spiritual interests, my work as a healer and all the rest.
When we were done he told me, We always knew you were different. We just didn’t know how, and we never knew how to connect with you. I feel like we’ve missed out on so much.
But we haven’t though, Dad. None of that matters because THIS conversation is happening right now. As opposed to never.
Is it weird? I mean, is it WEIRD to have gratitude for my father’s slow and unpleasant demise?
No matter. I am grateful. Because I’d never have known how much he loves me. How sensitive and spiritual that man truly is, had he not chosen to catch the slow, leaky boat out of this life.
Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness 
I am sorry for the pain, but it is part of growth, too. I went through a period of terrible pain after a burn accident, and that was when I met me, and really connected with certain friends. Being given permission to be in pain, and not have to hide it is the best gift my sister-in-law gave me during that time. For that, I can be grateful. I hope you find peace and healing through this.
Such a truly magical experience for you both. You are both blessed to be able to have that conversation and that he now sees who you are in your essence. I work with faeries too in my healing practice. We will hold you in our hearts (with your permission of course) as you help your father gradually transition from this plane of existence.
My father gave up battling the effects of cancer after his seizure two and a half years ago. The seizure left him half paralyzed but there was a chance he could gain his movement back through physical therapy. He lost interest in life and fell into deep depression (after 14 surgeries and near death experience, who wouldn’t..). Now he is cancer free (non-smoker lung cancer that metastasized to brain) but has no will to live. He is bedridden and is cared for by my mother. She has resentment towards him because he was never a great husband for her or the husband she wished for him to be. He resents her for probably the same reasons – but they love each other, if that makes sense. My father doesn’t know how to express love I suppose. We all feel let down by his lack of exercise or interest in anyone else’s life. Heck, he lacks interest of his own. He lost all of his independence and his identity. He is miserable, and now he is slowly eating less and less everyday. We, my mother, brother and myself, have been doing everything we can to tell him to keep going to keep trying. He’s made it through the hardest times and yet at the most critical point of his life, where he had to fight to regain strength and mobility, he gave up. He got lazy and was being cared for by my mother. For the past year she has been lifting him, washing him, changing his diapers. He is nasty most of the time and doesn’t care much to speak to anyone or spend time in the living room, outside of his bed. I fear that he is gong to die soon. It’s something I’ve always thought would happen. He’s survived seven and a half years since his lung cancer diagnosis and after what he’s been through, it’s a real miracle he’s still alive. I was 23 when my dad was diagnosed – that’s when our lives changed. I’ve cried for so many months. My poor mother has never had a break in her life – always struggling as a child growing up in a poor family in Greece. I am helpless. My father has no life right now – and watching him want to die is so painful. I don’t know who he is and fear I will always just remember what he was when I was child, fun and loving.