Other things may change us, but we start and end with family

J called tonight, probably his last call before he gets on a plane to come home.

We exchanged how-are-yous, what-did-you-do-todays and all that.  He sounded relatively chipper.  He told me how the kids and I are getting custom-made Ugg boots (Josie's will be pink!), how he had a nice time seeing his sister, how the weather was good.

"And I got to spend some time with my dad."

"Well that's good.  How's he doing?"

"I went to the doctor with him yesterday.  He goes to the hospital for another treatment."

"Huh."

"Yeah, the doctors told me that this will most likely be the last time I see him before he dies."

He was so nonchalant about it.

I, on the other hand, burst into tears.

Apparently, his condition from this crazy-ass disease that only 60 people in the entire world are known to have, and only 3 adults, all of whom are on the verge of dying, is deteriorating.  He's developed lesions on his brain.  His mental acuity is getting worse.  His vision is worsening.  And all of these things have gotten much worse, quickly, in the last month.  The doctors only give him a slightly better than 50% chance of even surviving the treatment he's going through next week.

J said that he's sad, but that he's spent good time with his dad and has said everything he needs to say.  He's said good-bye.  He'll have no regrets about leaving anything unsaid.

But I feel so awful for him.  Awful not only at the prospect of losing a beloved parent, and at not having more time with him.  Awful because I can't even imagine what it must be like to go through this and then fly to the other side of the world, and not be there in the end.  It makes me feel guilty for pulling him away from his family, even though I know that I never forced him into anything -- he made his choice.

Still.  It just sucks so much.