Commentary: How the pandemic helped prepare me to cope with my father’s final days
“Dying happens on its own schedule,” I told a concerned friend who called to check on me last May. Since I’d begun caring for my father dying at home, I couldn’t plan a shower let alone a phone call.
We talked a few minutes before I dropped the phone. My sister Shauna yelled for help lifting Dad, who’d gone from walking to needing a wheelchair in a week. We hoisted him onto the commode. “This might be it,” I said,
