I resent that my wife and daughters will outlive me

Ihave less than a year to live. I am in my early 50s, happily married with two daughters – one at school and the other at uni – and they and my wife are devastated at this diagnosis. They’re doing everything they can to make this year a great one. Family and friends keep saying how brave we all are, what an example to others and how close we are. There’s no bitterness, just a determination to make the most of every minute. Or that’s how it looks. The truth is, I’ve never been so angry.

I know I should be grateful that the illness I have means I’ll fade away, rather than suffering any big dramas. I’ve been assured that my pain will be kept under control at the hospice. The nurses are all very kind. But although I’m putting on this brave face I’m full of rage, because my wife and daughters will just carry on and have another life after

Not one person has said how dreadful this must be for me

me. I won’t see my girls graduate, nor walk them down the aisle. I’m expected to be brave and accept it. I don’t.

I resent the years I worked so hard, putting extra hours in so the mortgage would be paid off and I could take early retirement. I resent that, having taken care of all the practicalities of family life – the mortgage paid, the critical illness cover sorted and my enhanced pension paying out – I’ll be lucky to enjoy a year of it. Enjoy isn’t even the right word, because I’m hardly in rude health.

I know everyone’s plans have been put on hold this year, but mine have run out of time. Even if we get to travel this year, I have no idea if I’ll be fit enough to go anywhere. Everyone expects me to be brave and calm. Bravery is all you hear – someone fought, they put up a great battle, what a tower of strength they were to everyone else. Not one person has said how dreadful this must be for me, it’s all been how dreadful for us. But everyone else is on the edges of it. It feels like I’m truly on my own. Even the cancer nurses have never asked me how I feel about what’s happening. Is that not something I’m allowed to talk about? The church deacon who came to see me helpfully said God never gave us more than we could bear.

Well, this is far more than I can bear and my faith has gone. I can’t believe in a God who’s letting this happen. I’ve never really imagined what it would be like to be told you’re terminally ill. I know we all die, but I thought I’d have another 30 years or so just winding down. I also resent all that hard work keeping fit for nothing.

My family will all be very sad when I die, of course. But they’ve got so much life still in front of them. I’m sure my wife will remarry and my girls will just make a different life without me. We haven’t even talked about that.

The worst thing is that I thought my wife would see through my brave face and make me say how I really feel. But she’s taking it as a given. I’ve had to comfort her more than she’s comforted me.