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Last year, while on a ski trip with my husband and some friends, I received a call from my panic-stricken stepmother.  My dad had fallen, broken his leg and was being rushed to the hospital.

I had already dealt with the death of a parent: my mother had died suddenly years before.  But I had never experienced the prolonged suffering of a beloved, aging parent.  Especially painful was the fact that Dad could not come home after his hospital stay and instead went for rehabilitation in a nursing home, a six-hour drive from my home in Atlanta.  Thus began a year of roller coaster sentiments that left me physically and mentally exhausted-- I was in an emotional state like I have never experienced in my adult life.

One of the stronger emotions I suffered was guilt-- something I learned to live with daily.  Guilt would sneak up if I spent a day by myself or with friends or other family members.  I felt guilty knowing that if I was not with Dad, someone had to take my place—I felt worse if no one could.  Guilt was when I looked into his sweet face and told a little white lie about his progress, his appearance, his prognosis.  I also suffered knowing I was not my usual self at home or doing my best at work.

Intimacy between Dad and I grew as we took the opportunity to relive old memories, laugh together over old stories, hold hands and share emotions.  There were also serious discussions.  At one point he shared with me his thoughts on his funeral details and a few truths of his feelings about certain individuals. 

I experienced fear on many levels.  I was, of course, fearful that I may lose someone I dearly loved.  But I also experienced a selfish fear when I realized the person who bolstered me through my personal trials and tribulations was now weak and relying on my strength. Shear panic set in when Dad began sharing his fear of never going home or that he might die. And of course, the unmentioned fear-- that one day it might be me lying in a nursing home bed.

Dad passed away eleven months after his fall.  But mine is in many ways a happy story.  The prolonged illness of a family member can make or break relationships.  I am blessed with a stepmom who served as a rock for Dad during his illness. I am blessed with a husband who was there for me.  My sister, stepsisters, other relatives and family friends shared in giving Dad their time, love and encouragement throughout his entire ordeal.  And I used the time I had with Dad wisely.

Dad never doubted that he was a much-loved husband, father, brother, uncle, grandfather and friend.  And that is the greatest gift that can be given to anyone.