I can relate, I lost my dad to lung cancer three months shy of his 90th birthday. He survived WWII and a motorcycle accident that left him partially paralyzed in 1948, five years before I was born.
That’s amazing. During the last year of his life I was convinced that whatever was doing him in was nothing compared to the cancers. The docs couldn’t figure it out for the longest time.
I had been laid-off and was out up and down the East Coast doing interviews trying to land work as a mid-50s techie.
My sister called me in late November of 2014 telling me the end was near. Given his past, I refused to believe it.
Then he was gone.
I regret not going back before he died but the one thing my dad insisted upon was a strong work ethic. He knew what I was doing and even though I wasn’t there I was comforted by the fact he approved what I was doing.