Sorry, not sorry, I have no gratitude to give today
Today, on Thanksgiving 2019, I am not thankful. I mean, I am, but I don’t have the bandwidth to make a huge deal around gratitude today, even after I’ve gorged myself on mashed potatoes, excellent green beans with lemon and shallots, pumpkin pie and a bowl of whipped cream. I don’t have any grace to give today. I’m angry and I’m sad. I am not just angry, I’m furious. And I’m scared and not even this bowl of leftover mashed potatoes and gravy I’m smashing can even offer any solace - the worst kind of emotional eating: carbs with no endorphin hits. Maybe I should be grateful for the layer they are creating in my stomach before I destroy this bottle of Merryvale Pinot.
Here’s my list of all the things I’m currently not grateful for:
Cancer.
Having two grief processes - anticipatory, and the yet-to-come actual loss.
Having to watch my dad suffer from cancer.
The fact that every holiday, nay, interaction, with my dad is so fraught with trying to make it the best it can be; everything is so loaded with emotion.
Watching my dad lose his appetite and zeal for prosciutto, or really any delightful morsel.
Seeing my dad physically shrink before my very eyes.
People telling me “at least you get this time with him and to make the most of it”. That’s fucking bullshit. All I get to do is watch my dad suffer as his life becomes more limited due to the pain, and he grieves the loss of his future.
My dad is dying and he’s so young. His runway is ending too soon. I don’t care that life isn’t fair. I’m angry that he’s getting the short end of the stick.
I’m not even too terribly sad about my own loss right now. Do I think about the things I took for granted like having an ever-full meat freezer in my garage, or Sunday suppers or someone who helps you get out of a pickle, like a car accident? Duh. I’m also mad at the things that will never be. He will never walk me down the aisle or hold a grandchild. I don’t even know if I want a wedding or kids, but I am so sad that if they happen, he won’t be there. But ultimately I know it will be okay.
What really fucking pisses me off is how hard this is for him. It absolutely kills me to watch him not be able to take up half the room with his presence. Instead of hearing his voice carry across the room, I have to search the room looking for him, only to see him sitting down at a table, sipping a water, instead of a whiskey or wine. He’s clearly in so much pain, and just counting down the time until he can get into bed. As ever, he’s putting on the brave and strong face.
A close friend of mine recently spent some time on the phone consoling me and so kindly put words to feelings I was having that I couldn’t articulate: cancer is an ugly way to die, and it’s almost as though it’s disrespectful to how they lived their lives. My dad can’t keep warm. He can’t be upright for too long. He only eats less than a small steak every day. He mourns for the loss of his future, that he has no more goals to set and reach. His clothes hang off him - his skinny clothes. This is not my dad. As long as I can remember he was the life of a party, he was always in the thick of things, instead of quietly observing from a chair. And now he’s in pain, and I can’t do anything to take that away. I can do nothing.
There is nothing I can do.
I cannot help him.
You know what else is totally fucked? This isn’t like a tough period where he will come out on the other side healthy and better. He’s only going to feel worse and worse until he dies. The only way this ends is when he’s dead. The only way out ends with us all in a place without my dad and having to start a whole new grieving process and figuring out how to live without him.
So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not feeling entirely thankful today. I don’t write this looking for sympathy - and I promise I do appreciate all the kind words and care and concern, truly, I do - I just want people to know how fucked up I think this situation is, and that sometimes it’s ok to be fucking mad and sad and in a really shitty space. You’ll have great company. I’ll bring the wine.