You know, my dad has been talking about killing himself since I was 11 years old. It could be that I am all out of tears and and kind of glad (in a sick way) that he is finally going to snuff it. Not because he is a burden on me, but because this is what he has wanted for a very long time, and who am I to deny him that? My relationship with him is a strange thing; I love him, but at the same time he frustrates me. He is severely mentally and physically ill, but refuses to seek help or treatment. He can't swallow his pride and would rather die than let go of his ego.
Yes, I very much relate to that.
My dad doesn't have the physical illness (except whatever the alcohol and smoking has done to his body for 4-5 decades), but basically it is like he was so badly wounded in childhood by something that he remained a small boy emotionally and has never been able to admit his faults or his feelings, let others give him advice or take care of him. His ego is too big and too fragile, so instead he became a bully in some ways, runs away / hides himself in others, and never really opens up to anyone except when very drunk... which ruins it. (Most of the times he told me he loved me, he was utterly drunk; to me, that is like getting a Christmas present covered in dung.) All of which is a shame, because he definitely had people in his life who put up with that crap for far too long; he had people who would have stuck with him, but he chose not to open up.
He almost died a few years ago, was in fact literally dying from kidney/liver failure and all the other stuff that goes along with alcoholism, but my mom was so upset and helpless -- and they were watching my kids overnight at the time -- that I convinced him to go to the hospital and somehow he managed to pull through. But I hated investing like that and still don't know if I did the right thing; I felt like it was so clear what he wanted, and I respect people's decisions for their own lives, and so I was just prolonging the inevitable... and pretty much that is what has happened since he gave up trying to stay out of the bottle again (his ego was too big to stay in AA or other support groups), and in the meanwhile he has made my life hell in other ways. I paid a price for helping him pull through, and so did others. When my mom thought she had pancreatic cancer two weeks ago (after initial tests were bad), she told him; and instead of being there for her, he went off and got drunk and she had to deal with the dread all alone. Further tests showed my mom to have something else, which is good; but it's a clear sign that he was incapable of being there for others.
I have no idea how to feel about him or if and when I would cry at his passing now. I remember back then, in some ways, what I felt at the thought of his death was potential relief. I did cry when I thought he had died (since he coded blue at the hospital when I was with him, and then he was on a respirator for two days and usually people have trouble coming back from that), but I couldn't separate that from concern about him vs concern about how my life was changing. Suddenly I was the oldest child in the family, and I felt like I had to take care of everyone and know what to do... but I felt inadequate and lost. I think it was more about me and my loss than about him per se.
The problem with trying to spend as much time with him as possible is that I live in Australia, and he lives in America. I can't just drop everything at home to come and see him, and there is no definite time that he will die.
Oh definitely. That would be very hard, to know what to do. And I know what you mean -- my dad should have been dead so many times now, even my kids make good-natured jokes about how he just keeps going and going and just won't die even after all the damage he's caused to himself. It's such a big commitment for you to get back, because chances are he won't pass on... but if it actually IS the time and you do not...? That's a horrible situation to be in.
I am going to be in the America for the next 3 weeks and after that I don't know when I'll see him again. The thing to do is to try and make the best of the time I am given and let him know that I do love and care, even if I seem aloof a lot of the time.
I think that is the best way to go about it, honestly.
And if you can make it seem like a gift to him, that's good; but even if you can't, basically it is a gift you can give yourself. Because you don't want to spend the rest of your life second-guessing yourself or feeling like you could have done more but didn't. That would be a horrible feeling for you to bear.
I don't feel anger or regret, sorrow or bitterness. I only feel a sense of...relief? I know it sounds horrible to say that.
It does "sound" horrible, but I think if you read a lot of stories about people in our shoes, or people who have had to deal with loved ones with chronic terminal illnesses, or similar things, etc., you'll see that same motif in all their comments -- on some level, they feel relief that it is all finally over, and then they feel some level of guilt about feeling that relief.
You're gonna be okay, it sounds like you have the right attitude -- the best one possible -- right now on how to deal with him. You can only do whatever you can do.
(My dad is an ESTP, btw...)