All right, so the sharing on here is pretty real. My Dad is dying. I'm sad, and okay.

My Dad has COPD. It's what he'll die from, and it's probably soon.

He still smokes. After a cigarette, he can't talk for several minutes. I think 30 some years ago he resolved to die from smoking and never quit, but never thought he'd make it this far (he's 77, started smoking at 18, but weirdly smokes like 1/4 of a cigarette). He could add years onto his life if he would quit, but I know he won't. I used to smoke. but quit in 2009. He has whatever excuse you'll hear why he won't. My image of paternal strength is shattered by my dad's inability to even approach the idea of quitting.

My mom has halted her travel to stay home with him. He has refused to really do anything to take care of himself anymore. He used to be the guy of action and responsibility throughout my childhood.

I love him. We've had ALL of the conversations already, and really have throughout my whole life. We live on opposite coasts of the USA, and haven't seen each other in a few years. We chat on the phone about monthly.

I kind of feel like our relationship has run its course. I wish he didn't burden my mother as much as he does (he got a dog that my mom didn't want, but has to take care of. Years ago, my mom felt like she had to retire from her job because my dad wasn't eating when she was at work). He's not dead yet, but if I'm honest, I'm not fond of this version of him.

I've got a lot of feels around all of this, and wouldn't mind hearing some thoughts.