Four Words

It's been a while since I've written on here. I suppose life and leisure have kept me away, as well as my own negligence.

Ah, well.

There comes a time in every young person's life where they make that transition from irresponsible youth to responsible adult. For some, that time comes earlier than others. Sometimes, it's a defining moment while other times it's a gradual, drawn-out process.

Sometimes, it's as simple as four words.

...

My father has cancer.

Some explanation is required.

My father has been my father for, go figure, twenty-six years. He's always been there, through good and bad. I never deluded myself into believing he'd ALWAYS be there for me...I'm a realist, after all. However, the possibility of him not being around to see me turn thirty...well, that never even crossed my mind. Not once.

So, one can imagine how I felt when he called me up to let me know he might have cancer. Or how I felt when he called me up to let me know he DEFINITELY has cancer. Or how I felt when he called me up to to let me know he might have an even worse type of cancer.

We all, to some degree, view our fathers as some sort of supermen. Actually, here's a video describing the different perspectives we have of them as we grow up:

The Six Ways You'll See Your Dad

I rather like that video...I linked it to my dad last Father's Day. It's funny how you don't think of your dad as a person like you until...well, until he gets an awful life-threatening disease. I never truly considered what life without him would be like until right now.

I should probably preface what I'm about to say by stating that I never really had a great deal of "family" growing up. My grandparents all passed-on either before I was born or when I was very young. Any extended family lived too far to be of any significance in my life. All I had were my mother and father. I've been estranged from my mother for six years now, so, in reality, my father is all that I have left. Of course, I also have my stepmom and her family who I know love us and are going to be there for us. However, my stepmom is a wise woman who I know understands why I feel that it won't be the same without him.

Does it make me selfish to worry about myself so much in a situation like this? I sometimes believe it does. I am aware that the fear I feel can only be a fraction of what my parents feel, yet that's all I can think about. What's it going to be like for me if he passes on? Will I become ill like my father later in life, and, if so, how soon? How long will I continue to be invited over for Christmas and Thanksgiving after he's gone?

I can be such a self-absorbed little shit sometimes.

One of the worst realizations I've come to since I received the news is how very little time I actually spend with my father. The last time I physically saw him was on my birthday, which was a month ago. Since then, I've had several conversations with him of varying degrees, but nothing truly and significantly deep. The truth is that I want to see him and spend time with him, but I fear how this news will affect that time. Will I be able to hold eye contact? Can we carry on a conversation about something other than THAT?

My life seems to be nothing more than a grand parade of questions, one-by-one marching through my head all day, every day. Most, these days, being about the obvious. I'm just....finding it difficult to carry on like always with all of these unknowns floating about in the nebulous aether. I don't even known how to tell people about it other than the overly blunt, borderline insensitive, "Well, my dad has cancer!". And even then, where do you go with that, beyond robotically rattling off the information you already know for the fortieth time.

It seriously gets tiresome.

A friend of mine, Dan, who I've mentioned here, recently lost his mom. Since the passing, I've seen him a couple of times at a public, social setting we both frequent. Every time I see him, there's a smile on his face, but his eyes betray the truth. Behind his gaze I can see the cold grip of sadness and loss attempting to veil itself behind the shroud of normalcy. He would probably disagree with my assessment, openly at that, but I know the face behind the mask. I wonder what my mask will be like.

Now, many of your readers may be thinking that I'm being a bit morbid, or, as some may say, "emo" or "dramatic". While you're probably right, you have to remember that death is one of those inevitabilities we all must face, be it for ourselves or for our loved ones. Just because I didn't think about it before doesn't mean my father wasn't going to pass on someday. It really is just a matter of when, and this news merely made me consider the aftermath of such a tragedy.

I'll wrap this up considering it's gotten rather long and rambly. What purpose did I have in writing this? For my own catharsis? To share with others? To get my thoughts down somewhere? All of the above? I honestly couldn't say at this time. I just say down and started writing. To what end all of this comes will be decided in time.

One can only hope for the best.

"All will be well."
- Saint Walker