The fine line between love, honor, duty, and sacrifice

I lost my dad to cancer almost 3 years ago. Our daughter Lauren was only 9 months old at the time, and of course could not comprehend the loss, nor did she understand why her daddy was so upset. Today Lauren is three and half years old and very cognizant of her world. She's grown up in a household with two parents and a grandparent, my mom.

I find myself making tough choices today as the doctors tell me they want to release my mom from the hospital tomorrow, so she can go home and rest comfortably before breast cancer takes her away from me and from her granddaughter. My mom has been battling breast cancer for almost 12 years, so it's no surprise to us that this day would be coming. But it's so much harder for me with my mom than it was with my dad. My dad made all his own choices and I think that made it much easier on us kids. My mom, who was always the strong one in our family, wants us kids to make the decisions for her.

How does one live with a decision that may prolong life, but may cause more pain and suffering, or the opposite a decision that may take life away too soon? How do you make sure a loved one is truly comfortable in their final hours, and can you truly be sure these will be their final hours? And then there's that question that I'm dreading to hear, and that's the one from my daughter Lauren asking where her grandmother is, when she's gone.

Out of three kids my dad asked me to be the decision maker for my mom when the time came. He knew her time was short as well. He thought my youngest sibling would be too emotional and my older sibling too analytical and cold. He thought I would be the level headed one and make the right choice. I guess that's been my role through out my life. I find myself playing a mediator, a decision maker, and dutiful son tonight. I tell myself there can be no wrong choice, knowing I will doubt whether I've made the right decisions for many years to come.