Eighteen days since my father died only 11 days since we buried him. It does not seem that long. I find myself sometimes wondering how his day is going. As I stated a few days ago I have not seen my father since Easter of 2010, his death was not unexpected, he had been fighting prostate cancer and one of those damn mega virii for several years. In the end it is hard to say what got him but I think he just gave up months ago and that the only reason he was still here was because they brought him back, the doctors I mean.
My thought wander and I want to blame the doctors for not trying hard enough or myself for not caring hard enough. My brother and his wife were dad's caretakers not me. I do not know what duty says but I feel and have felt that as the eldest daughter I should have been doing that but I simply couldn't
I put my trust in my brothers, one betrayed that trust and the other has been an absolute saint. I think it must be a lot harder on John than on any of us others. If I could find a way to repay him I would
Damn the tears have begun again. I do not often give in to them but they are never far away. I have lost the words I wanted to write, perhaps if they come back I'll add them to the bottom of this entry.