Anticipatory Grief

Over a year ago, my husband's father was diagnosed with cancer. It was shortly after my husband and kids and I went with him and my mother in-law to South Dakota to visit the tourist sights there. My children were on Spring Break from school. I had planned to take them to Springfield, IL alone since my husband would be working. I called my in-laws to ask if they would like to meet up along the way since they live in Chicago and generally enjoy taking road trips. Instead, my father in-law became very excited about taking us all to South Dakota. He didn't want to take "no" for an answer and despite having a lot of work to do, my husband finally agreed to put everything aside and make a go of a long road trip together.

It was a lot of fun. My in-laws have a lot of love for South Dakota's Badlands and Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Monument. We were there before the summer crowds and so we got to enjoy the sights without waiting in long lines or pushing past a lot of other tourists. We stopped along the road and watched buffalos roam and prairie dogs pop their heads up from holes in the ground. We climbed up rocks and hiked on paths. It was exciting for my kids. My father in-law loves to teach them about geology and my mother in-law loves to tell stories about adventures that she has been on in her life. None of us knew that only a week or so after our trip we would be given such frightening news.

Since then, most of the focus of our time with my in-laws has been on making the time for my father in-law memorable for my kids and my husband and comfortable for him. There have been some arguments and tears about putting together plans for what will happen after he is gone. The large majority of what we have experienced, however is a greater appreciation for the role he has played in my husband's life and for the love that he has been able to give so freely to my children.

The first couple of months were confusing since I wanted to so much to support and help my mother in-law and she seemed to be very strongly against allowing me to help in any way. I had thoughts of bringing food over and stocking her freezer with meals that I would prepare for them so that when the chemo treatments came, at least she wouldn't have to cook. I thought of helping her clean to give her more time to be with him doing things they would both enjoy. I had to step back and allow her to tell me what she was comfortable with allowing me to do to help. Since that is nothing--I have had a pretty easy go of things.

My father in-law has done much better with chemotherapy and radiation than anyone expected. He and my mother in-law rented a place in the town we live in so that they can come here and stay together without being in our home. We used to have them come to stay for long stretches of time and found that it was not easy to get along after a few days. I don't think it was what they liked hearing, but I thought it was better that they stay in their own place. I'm not a morning person and they like big cooked breakfasts that go on and on with lots of talking in the morning. I like my routine of spending time with my husband alone at night after the kids go to bed and they tended to like to share that time with us every night. We eat more when they stay with us. We eat less healthy foods when they stay with us. We argue over who is in charge and who should be disciplining the kids and so forth. There is a lot more cleaning for me to do. All of the rules the kids expect to live by when it is just us in the home become relaxed and after a while, I feel really removed from what is going on with my husband and kids who naturally focus on the people who are happy and lively and talking. I find myself staying in the background and trying to keep order in the home and growing resentful when I would rather not. When they stay in their own place, they visit and go home and we all have a much better time.

With all of this happening, it is easy to forget that our time together is short. Last night, my daughter couldn't sleep and asked me for a bedtime story at midnight. She really couldn't sleep. I told her a story that in my mind was a little like what I could remember of the book, "Heidi". It may actually be nothing like the book. I read it so long ago that I really only remember a few of the details. I pictured a man with a gray beard who could be grumpy and was determined to do things on his own. So that's how I started the story. I told her that he lived far above the village away from the rest of the people and only grunted 'hello' when he had to because someone in the village was determined to be friendly to him. He let his beard grow long and he wore his clothes the way he liked them instead of worrying about what others wore. Often times, they weren't very clean by the time he got to the village to sell his goat's milk because he did a lot of his work along the way. I said that this little girl kept wandering around the meadow where his goats would eat flowers and she would drink from the spring of water that ran from the mountain where he lived. He wanted to tell her to go away but he didn't. Instead, he taught her how to take care of the goats. He showed her the garden where he grew his vegetables and made stew for her to share with him while they read stories by the fire. He didn't tell her that he liked to be around her. He just told her that the stew was her reward for helping him with his chores. He listened to her sing and didn't tell her that it made him happy. Before long, they were friends. Once they were friends, he told her she meant the world to him. She kissed his forehead and said she knew that. When he grew ill, she came to his cottage to talk to him, but he sent her away. She returned again and again anyway and delivered flowers, milk from the goats and cheese and bread. She sang to him. She brought her parents to help him when he got very sick and while he didn't like accepting their help, he finally allowed them to be his friends, too. Before he died, he held her hand and told her she was the best friend he ever had and she never forgot how happy she felt to have been able to make a difference in his life or the lessons he taught her about how to care for the animals or the plants near his home in the mountains. When she grew up, she raised her children in the mountains and she would tell them stories about her friend who was so grumpy and stayed away from the villagers but really wasn't grumpy and really liked people a lot after all.

My daughter loved the story. I hope my daughters will both remember how happy they have made their Grandpa over the last eleven years. I think they will. I worry about the grief ahead, but I am grateful for the time we have now.