My dad is dying from pancreatic cancer. He is at his home in North Carolina. I live in Los Angeles. His wife is caring for him. She is a nurse. My father is only 73 years old and was diagnosed in early February. He was totally active and was kicking age's butt until this monster robbed him. After surgery and chemo didn't work, the inevitable is happening. In March I flew with him to North Carolina to care for him. He and his wife were moving there from California for retirement. She stayed behind to get everything shipped, I went with him to care for him as he recovered from surgery and to take him to oncology appointments and such (he couldn't drive). Now, we count down the days or hours and I am torn on whether to go or not to see him in his final moments. I am not sure I want to remember him this way. But I also don't want to regret anything. I have told my stepmother this. My brother has decided to not see him this way. I understand that. I want to remember him the way I do now. I love him very much.