There's honestly no amount comforting words that can take away the pain of losing a loved one.
You can never be too prepared to lose someone. It can make the reality a little easier to accept, but when it comes down to it, it's devastating.
I watched as my father grew weaker and weaker. He went from being rotund man who ate large portions to the skeletal outline of a human being that picked at food. In his later days, he wasn't even able to move, and was fed nutrients through an IV. He was the liveliest man I knew, always trying to show off his dancing skills (sorry, Daddy, that weird disco scooting thing isn't really dancing), yet towards the end, he was bedridden and could barely feel in his limbs. Despite all of these things, I always had hope that he would get better. The cancer had taken to his bones, shattering his neck. He went through the surgery to repair it, and we had promised to go through physical therapy together. He was getting better, and was even able to speak to us. We were able to feed him pureed food. To me, these things were all signs of hope, and I thought my daddy would be able to come home.
On his last full day on earth, I realized that while I can hold on to this hope of him getting a miracle treatment, I need to refocus myself and remind myself where TRUE hope is. As a human, as his daughter, OF COURSE I want him to get better. Of course I want to hold him to his promise of going to physical therapy together and going on a long-awaited family vacation that will never be. Of course, as a human, these are the things we desire. But in facing reality, there really wasn't anything that could physically heal him from all the damage the cancer had done in the last seven years. There can only be hope in Christ - that we will be able to meet again in Heaven. My heart is broken that my father was in such a physically broken state, and even mentally, he must have hurt from becoming nothing but a shell of who he once was. But on the brighter side, I was blessed with the opportunity of being by his side, telling him over and over again of our God who saves, and can let us meet again. I believe that God has kept my father with us for so long so that he can hear and accept the Gospel message and go back into His embrace.
I know you must be feasting on foods you've been denied for so long, showing off that embarrassing disco dance of yours, and telling everyone about how you can plank for 5 minutes straight. I'll meet you there when my come has come. I love you, and I miss you.