Left Unsaid

I know I have mentioned in the past that I tend to think on things, sometimes for years, until I reach a conclusion.  And, I have been thinking much on father and his death.

How could someone come away with a clean physical, when he had terminal lung cancer?  How could his doctor have missed this during the exam only two weeks before his death?  How could he not have known something was terribly wrong with his body?  I have known far too many whom have died under these symptoms to know that none of this is even remotely possible.

And then, I thought about our last conversation.

Father rarely called.  I have always made him terribly uncomfortable and even if I call, he always has to rush away almost instantly on some terribly important mission.  Except for that last call.

Father called me on the day of his last physical exam.  He was chatty, very unlike him.  He talked about getting some life insurance, how he wanted to know that his wife would have something left when he eventually checked out.  He wanted to talk about my kids.  All very unlike him.

I called him back several times the following week, wondering if something was up, but there was no answer.  He was already in the coma.

Yesterday as I thought on this I realized that father was telling me, I just could not understand, nor could I have guessed this would be our last conversation.  But, I have figured it out now.  I see how all of the pieces fit together in his mind and how he could not come to tell me what was really up.

And, I am grateful that my father's last words to me were, "I love you."