Making the Most of My Father’s Final Days – My Personal Story

By Britta Aragon on November 30, 2009 | 10 Comments

Britta Aragon and her father, Javier.

I pride myself on being a positive person. After surviving cancer myself, I felt I had experienced firsthand the power of believing you can, and you will get well. I did it, and later, when my father was diagnosed, I watched him do it not once, but five times. His strength and optimism stay with me to this day, and fuel all my efforts for Cinco Vidas and all the cancer fighters, survivors, and caregivers that we touch.

However, despite my father’s triumphs, after the fifth recurrence of the cancer, there came a time when I knew that even with all his positive energy, my father was not going to survive. I’m not sure how you come to know this. It’s not just what the doctors say, or what the test results show. After a certain time of fighting battles—some you win, but some you lose—you see that the body is breaking down, and like a machine with too many broken parts, there’s just no fixing it anymore, despite the strength of the heart that lives inside.

What do we do when this happens? How do we face each day knowing that we’re going to lose someone we love so much? Of course it’s not easy. Truth be told, I didn’t think I could survive it. But I want to tell you—if you’re in this position, make the most of it. Don’t let it pass you by. Don’t live with regrets. This is a precious time filled with gifts waiting to be unwrapped between you and your loved one; gifts that have never appeared before, and will never come again.

When it started to hit me that my father had only a few months to live (though I still found it hard to believe), I made sure that he and I got a chance to talk. I asked him all the questions I might have never asked him had I not known he would be gone soon—like what it meant to him to be a good friend, and what was it like growing up in his time? What were his biggest life lessons? It was during these talks that he opened up and told me in detail about when he lost his father—something that happened when I was only 8 years old.

Throughout all these talks—which sometimes lasted hours—his spirits were high, making the times between us truly joyful. I bought a book called “Between Me and You, Dad” that gave me ideas of other questions to ask, and I used it to record his answers. I found this experience so valuable that I ended up buying extra copies to give to all my cousins so they could start doing the journals with their dads. It’s never too early to get to know your loved one better! (There are similar journals for almost anyone—mom, grandpa, siblings—click here.)

As we talked about so many things, we weren’t really aware of it, but there was healing taking place. While we explored his life, his experiences, and his wisdom together, we were both subtly preparing to be separated, and gathering all the treasures we could find to give each other, keepsakes we could hold onto that would serve as tender reminders—memories that we may one day delight in sharing again, should we meet in some unknown future.

I never asked him about dying. I thought that was up to him, whether or not he wanted to talk about it. He never did—at least, not with me. But that was okay. What was important was that we shared the time we had in as loving a way as possible. My mom and I kept his environment soothing, with aromatherapy, his favorite music, and funny movies to make him laugh. We made sure he had comfortable bedding, and touched him as much as we could. So many times people become afraid to touch a dying person, but it’s so important to convey our love this way. I gave my dad daily hugs and kisses, and often held his hand. It was as helpful to me as it was to him. I also took many pictures of him and my family, as I realized that we didn’t have as many in my collection as I would have liked.

Someone so important to you can never be replaced. When they’re gone, it’s normal to feel unsteady, shaken, lost, and like somehow, the world has taken on a darker hue. But the memories you make during the last precious moments of your loved one’s life—they will last the rest of your own. You will take with you the grace, strength, and love that you saw displayed in the final steps of another’s journey, and one day, you will use those lessons to help you manage your own final breaths. Death, like life, can be filled with love and light and hope for the future—the future of your life, as you move forward with this important person forever in your heart, and the future of your loved one’s life, as the strength of your love and the moments you shared together carries them on to their next journey.

My father’s last gift to me was a small jewelry box. He surprised me with it about a month before he passed. On it is an engraved quote that he wrote. I’ve reread a thousand times. It has helped me to feel his presence, even now. I copy it here for you, that you may know that even if our loved ones are not physically here, we still have them with us, awakening our memories, warming our hearts, and strengthening our souls so that we can go on, and live our lives to the fullest.

“I will always be with you to show you the way.  If you do not see me, look closer. I will be there.”
—Papi

What did you learn from sharing the last days with your loved one? Please share your story.

Posted in: Britta's Cancer Survival Journey, Caregiving

Tweet