I had the opposite, dad 63, with plans, fit, energetic, and waiting for the first grandchild to be born. Blam, cancer, metastasis, dead in less than a year. Not sure which one is worse, I guess it is good that I have memories of a fit active guy who was building things around the house, and regret that the another 10 active years were denied, or or have the memories of a person in a poor state and those memories staying with you, but at least having no regrets that there were no actually quality years lost. I can kind of compare both because my grandpa, gone just two years ago, was the exact case of your dad and Scott’s, except that in his case the shitty Eastern European healthcare system (that probably contributed to not noticing my dads cancer metastasis earlier, because lumps in a stomach somehow avoid the vibrations of a swallowed ultrasound device if the doctor is stupid enough) was actually doing a favor in the sense of when he was so demented that he would refuse to eat or be unable to, they did not really force the issue. A kind of a letting starve situation as a quasi-assisted suicide, with painkillers and all that so he never felt hungry. This is one of the weirdest things in the world: if the goal itself is bad, then highly efficient first-worlder systems end up worse than crappy not-so-first-worlder ones that simply botch pursuing the bad goal. Is there a name for that?
At any rate, I think the first was worse. I would rather have memories of a human vegetable staying with me as a price, if this would have bought another 5 years in good shape and photos left him with his grandchild. This, the grandchild-grandpa meeting is what I regret most and find the hardest to deal with: just how the eff you are expected to do fathering with your own father being alive and showing the ropes?
Worst thing is he did not write a book for us. Did yours? This is a huge mistake and if we have children we must absolutely make sure to write them a book. Just a brain dump, of our opinions and advice about everything so that we leave something more substantial than just photos to them.
I had the opposite, dad 63, with plans, fit, energetic, and waiting for the first grandchild to be born. Blam, cancer, metastasis, dead in less than a year. Not sure which one is worse, I guess it is good that I have memories of a fit active guy who was building things around the house, and regret that the another 10 active years were denied, or or have the memories of a person in a poor state and those memories staying with you, but at least having no regrets that there were no actually quality years lost. I can kind of compare both because my grandpa, gone just two years ago, was the exact case of your dad and Scott’s, except that in his case the shitty Eastern European healthcare system (that probably contributed to not noticing my dads cancer metastasis earlier, because lumps in a stomach somehow avoid the vibrations of a swallowed ultrasound device if the doctor is stupid enough) was actually doing a favor in the sense of when he was so demented that he would refuse to eat or be unable to, they did not really force the issue. A kind of a letting starve situation as a quasi-assisted suicide, with painkillers and all that so he never felt hungry. This is one of the weirdest things in the world: if the goal itself is bad, then highly efficient first-worlder systems end up worse than crappy not-so-first-worlder ones that simply botch pursuing the bad goal. Is there a name for that?
At any rate, I think the first was worse. I would rather have memories of a human vegetable staying with me as a price, if this would have bought another 5 years in good shape and photos left him with his grandchild. This, the grandchild-grandpa meeting is what I regret most and find the hardest to deal with: just how the eff you are expected to do fathering with your own father being alive and showing the ropes?
Worst thing is he did not write a book for us. Did yours? This is a huge mistake and if we have children we must absolutely make sure to write them a book. Just a brain dump, of our opinions and advice about everything so that we leave something more substantial than just photos to them.