the Inhumanity of it all

I'm in the midst of an experience I've never had before--being present while a person is at the end of his life, having lost a battle with cancer. That person is my Dad. He entered hospice 4 days ago. Today's question that I can't get out of my head is "why?" Why do we feel as if it's humane to help our pets over the Rainbow Bridge when they are terminal but we compel our humans to suffer through the process of dying? My heart is broken. Every time I look at the shell of a man that, only 6 months before, was a strong guy who knew everything and who could do anything. Today I fed him. And helped him drink water from a straw. He is helpless and crazy with pain and pain medication. He said his ABC's to me. Why is all of this ok? How can I not be very angry right now? Yesterday I typed up my Dad's obituary. WTF... So to battle with this incredible anger that I can't seem to quell today, I instead will take a little time to celebrate the man that is my Father--here, on my little blog. As a child, I thought he knew everything; heck, as an adult I was still thinking he knew everything. He knew a ton about so many things and he was my go-to guy for all of it. RVs, electricity, travel, cars, you name it. He had an incredible story as a kid growing up in the mid-west in the 40's-50's. He was the one that prompted me to learn more about the Monroe family. Because of him I have been successful in tracing the entire Monroe family tree. And in that research, I found his brothers--long lost for over 50 years. How awesome is that! My Dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but I'm convinced it wasn't in his heart, it was a bunch of other circumstances that stood in the way of me always being Daddy's girl. What I am thrilled about is that, as an adult, I had an opportunity to settle into a decent relationship with him. I can thank him for so many things but I do attribute my fierce independence and ability to survive and never give up, to him. I believe it was our shared past that led me to be such a survivor. It was my shear stubbornness, surely a Monroe trait, that made me prove the world wrong--time and again. "You'll never make it through basic training", "You'll never graduate from College", "You'll never make much of yourself". hell yes, I most certainly will. Thank you Dad. I'm sad for my son. I lost my Grandpa when I was 4 years old. Quinn will lose his Grandpa at 4 years old. Quinn is at such a disadvantage with little extended family involvement in his life that he's losing a critical piece of his little family pie. That makes my heart hurt. As I sit in his house, the house that he shared with his wife who has been the most incredible person in his life, I am heartbroken. But I can't begin to imagine how she feels, losing her soul mate. I can't imagine what goes through his mind as he is dying. Tonight I fight anger. I hope tomorrow I move past it.