I spent a lot of the day in the midst of a panic attack. All my feelings of guilt and sadness came back to me.
I say guilt because I killed him.
I didn’t really kill him. He had cancer. I went with him to the last doctor’s appointment. The doc was explaining that the cancer was winning, that more chemo would delay the inevitable, and that his life would be unlivable. There would be constant pain, no quality of life.
My father looked confused. It didn’t sink in for him. I had to explain it to him – it might be time to stop the treatment and let nature take its course.
I couldn’t do that, my Dad said, you mother wouldn’t let me.
It’s not her call, I said.
And with that, my father said he was done. No more chemo, no more radiation. Ten days later he was gone.
I have never forgiven myself for giving him the permission to be done.
Since then, my life has unraveled. My marriage ended, I went broke, I became an alcoholic. On the first anniversary, I was on the phone with my then girlfriend, crying and drunk, screaming “I killed him!” into the phone.
The night before last, I had a dream with my father in it – I was also being hanged.
I managed to get through the day sober, which was something of an accomplishment.
I have been stuck in that moment for four years, ever since I said that it was okay to be done. The guilt and shame I have irrationally held on to for so long have nearly ruined me, and have dishonored my father’s memory.
I didn’t kill him – the cancer did. God did. And I was right, it was his decision to make.
Last night, having a panic, I called an AA old timer when I couldn’t get my sponsor on the phone. He said the same thing that everyone else has said – it’s not your fault. He also said something no one else has said – pray on it.
Right around the time of the first anniversary, I wrote a really angry letter to God. Last night, having been advised to pray, I walked the dog around the block, talking free form to God, looking for all the world like the neighborhood crazy.
After walking three-quarters of the way around the block, I was in tears and repeating “It’s not my fault” over and over.
I don’t believe it yet. I haven’t internalized it yet. As I inch my way back to sane, I will get there.
