I honestly don't know where this concept keeps coming from, but I keep thinking that there's a 'right way' to deal with this whole thing. Maybe if I find the right combination of feelings, everything will get easier. But there isn't, and there won't be, and accepting that my father is dying is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. And if I'm lucky, my family and I will come out at the end of this a little bit stronger and more self-aware. But without dad.
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