This is what happened to my father-in-law Jim 6 years ago.
He was 72, a kind, caring and generous man who treated me like a son, since I was literally the son he never had, his having raised two daughters, one of whom couldn’t keep a husband.
Of all my wife’s numerous family members, he and his sister Betsy were my favorite in-laws of all time.
Jim had an aggressive form of bone cancer which was eating him up. At the time he was living in Florida and the hospitals in his area were, shall we say, not the best.
He was tired, very sore, losing weight, difficulty walking, lack of appetite.
He opted against chemo for a few reasons. He felt the cancer was so aggressive that chemo would only prolong his misery, and it ultimately wouldn’t save him.
As a Catholic, he also reasoned that when he passed away he would go to heaven and see his parents and deceased family members/friends again.
I had a beer with him in Florida, the last time I ever saw him alive. He was stoic and calm about his impending fate.
I won’t say “he faced it like a man” because plenty of women are as strong or stronger. He faced it with resolute steel, is all I will say.
That last outing was the one and only time I ever called him “Dad.” It was always “Jim.”
Jim entered hospice not much later. He died at home shortly thereafter. It was less than 6 months after his diagnosis.
He had been a hale and hearty tall man with a bit of a belly and a fleshy face due to his love of Manhattans and Italian food.
I attended his funeral which was open-casket. I didn’t recognize him even after seeing him alive just a couple of months before. He looked like a thin, emaciated waxwork, a poorly made facsimile of his former self.
I’m so sorry this happened to him, we miss him all the time, and my wife Susan will never get over the loss of her Dad at only 72.
Rest in peace, Dad. I love you. And I hope I see you again somehow.