1994. Her mother was nearing the end of a two year battle with the silent killer. Cancer. She watched her once strong, independent mom slowly wither away into her hospital bed.
“No child should have to go through that, she was only 54,” she says

Carie K, 35 at the time, living with her husband and two sons thought the worst was over. It was seven years after her mom’s death and Christmas was ending. These were times to be with family—to rejoice, reminisce, and create new memories. The family had rejuvenated and was ready to get back to normalcy. Unbeknownst to Carie, within the next four months, normalcy would be an unfriendly stranger.

Lump. Ache. Doctor. Cancer. Death. Seven years after her mothers passing, she was thrown back into the unfortunate repetition, only now with her father.
“It happened so fast…diagnosed and dead in four months…I couldn’t believe it.”

Home hospice—where the patient knows he or she is going to pass and wants to ease the pain in their final time. Only Carie’s father insisted he was getting better. He was in denial and thought he would move back when the chemotherapy was over.
Two days before he slipped away into an impending comatose, he asked Carie if he was dying. She said that this was the hardest part.
“How do you answer that question?” she asked blankly.
For the past four months, they have avoided the subject, but she knew then was the time to unveil the inevitable.
“Yes Dad, you are.” She said. They held hands and said final goodbyes while he was still coherent.
“He moved to my house and never went back.”