Is knowing worse?

Sometimes it takes the looming aura of death to really make you think about life. This year has really done that for me. My Father was diagnosed in January with Lung Cancer.  After the initial tears, of many and many later and many more to come, I really thought of how important family is to me. I thought of all the little things that he'll be missing. Walking my Sister down the isle, seeing my Brother graduate college, watching my babies grow up. 

I started to freak out actually. Trivial, Stupid things crossed my mind about my own mortality like "if i die today, hubby will never find the bag of kid clothes for winter in the basement." Then I'd cry. I started cleaning and organizing "just in case". I didn't want anyone to have to look or stress out cause I was a messy disaster.  I'm terrified my children will not have a mother. I guess it's deflecting? I'm not a therapist, I'm just pretending I know what my crazy reactions are!

The truth is, what is killing me about my Dad is that my Babies won't have him around. And as much as I like to think he's strong and stubborn and can fight this, it's terminal. This could just be his last thanksgiving, last christmas. He turns 60 in June. Will he make it? God I hope so. 

Is it worse to know what someone is going to miss, rather than them just missing it? 

I rock my Son to sleep everynight in his room, in the dark, and cry. Much like I am right now, so I guess this post is done. Just for the record, knowing IS worse.