"I'm dying"
About four months ago, my (31F) dad (73) told me, "I'm dying." He would always say so jokingly, even when it was just a small cold. This time, I just didn't feel it the same way and I didn't laugh. Two weeks later he was diagnosed with metastatic cancer in the liver, they couldn't pinpoint where the original cancer came from. One week later he was having urgent palliative chemotherapy. He died three weeks later, just one week before my birthday, and then the holidays came.
Those words - "I'm dying" - just keep repeating on my head eventhough they weren't his last words to me. He was my best friend, my confidant, the person I could debate about politics, learn about history, talk about medicine, and laugh at stupid jokes.
My dad adopted me when I was 16, but he had been taking care of me since I was 4. He always said, "You are MY daughter," and he would get upset if anyone dared to tell him otherwise. His family on the other hand, never thought the same about my mom and me. They even said so to my face once when I was 18, my aunt and grandma literally said, "You are never going to be part of this family" while hugging my cousin in front of me.
During these last months, while his hea
From a practical angle, the follow-through is what will decide this and that tension shows up immediately That part stands out. Curious how this plays out.
From the outside, the framing does a lot of heavy lifting here
It’s a chilling realization when lighthearted comments turn serious. Even if we’re used to joking, it’s tough to brush off when it feels different. That moment of uncertainty can be heartbreaking, tearing at those small yet significant family bonds we hold dear. It’s never easy to