I was my father’s primary caretaker during the last four days of his life. I dressed and undressed my father. I walked with him. I prepared food for him. I gave him medicine. I changed his soiled sheets. I combed his hair after he died.
He was in excruciating pain. He did not want doctors or hospitals. Luckily, we successfully talked him into hospice. That helped me reduce his baseline level of pain.
Right now, my mind is running a continual visual loop of errors and lessons. I think of a thousand moments I could have executed more skillfully. To create a better experience for my father. To reduce pain. To prevent hurt. To instill confidence. To serve as a good example. To remain level-headed. To reduce anger.
I have been through the most painful, important, and present duty in my life.
I was there. The whole time. Doing nothing else. Now that it is done, I am plagued by the ways it could have been much better.
We just didn’t know any better.
I know that I did my best. I relieved my dad’s suffering. I put everything I had into it. There were no distractions.
But now I know so much more.
I wish I could give him the benefit of that knowledge. He could have had an even better end.
That’s what I find myself wishing for each day.
A mulligan. A chance to run the scenario again. It could have been so much better.