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My grandfather has been a stand-in father for my whole life. He took me and my siblings in over a decade ago and he's done nothing but love and support us throughout everything. He's been such a strong, compassionate rock for the whole family and he's slowly withering away from stage IV pancreatic cancer. He beat it once and after months of chemo, a huge operation, and a long grueling recovery it came back. Between the chemo and radiation, he's tired, he can hardly eat, he's pale and in so much pain. I try talking to him and being there for him as much as possible but my brain can't stop wandering to the fact that this is the beginning of the end. The end of the barbecue's, holidays, birthday parties, movie nights, an end to our long talks during the summer by the pool. Every little positive memory between him and I feels like the last one I'll ever have. I still call, text, go over and cook, or do anything I can to be by his side, but knowing the other shoe is gonna drop sooner or later has me on the verge of tears nearly every day. My family and I are all coping the best we can but I feel so distant from everyone. How can I try and stay positive throughout all this? How can I bring us as a family together to be there for him? How can I power through schoolwork and life's responsibilities when all I want to do is cry and sleep? I just feel broken and frustrated at how unfair this all is and how sad it is that I only have so many days left with him. I feel so nostalgic for the times where I never had this giant thunderstorm hanging over my head and could just enjoy spending time with my grandpa.

My husband of 36 years has advanced vascular (agitated) dementia; I see him every day at the skilled nursing facility where he lives. He knows me completely, but he doesn't not know much else (such as where he is or why). He is still very devoted and loving, but as a professor, father-figure, and a mentor to many family members and students over the years, I've noticed that at least half of them have disappeared since his decline - people I thought were family. Fortunately I do have some good friends, but I felt lonely so I called a local church about joining a grief group; they said I couldn't come because my husband was still alive. I understood, but did see something darkly funny about being rejected from a grief group! I thought of writing an essay about this "Good Grief: Rejected by a Grief Group."