Father's Day

© by Gerald So | 5:00 AM

My father died aged 66 in May 2001 from a reccurence of pancreatic cancer almost six years after a first operation saved his life. He is, of course, the first father I think of every Father's Day. I hadn't planned to blog about him this year because last year's post summed up my feelings well enough. This post is intentionally late, though, because it's in memory of one of my father's surgical partners, who, we heard yesterday, died from Alzheimer's disease June 4.

From 1984 to 2016, the doctor, his wife, and two sons lived in the house facing ours on Long Island. That final year, he and his wife moved to Boston to be closer to their younger son, two years my junior, now an economist. They didn't tell us then, but the doctor had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and his family had a history of the disease. One of his motivations to move was realizing he'd forgotten how to drive.

Saddened as I am by his death, I also feel the same sense of relief I did at my father's. Doctors know well the limits of what humans can do to preserve life. When we hope for loved ones' suffering to end, sometimes that only happens in death. But with that, we can remember them as we wish and make their goodness even more part of us.