The tumor is inoperable. My dad calls me with his weekly check in. His voice always chipper with news. Tonight however I sense a sadness as he speaks to me. My dad. The man who came into my life when I was fourteen years old. I did give him a good run for his money. I tested him and he stood fast. I met this man before my mom did. We actually got high together! Imagine that! But that was eons ago. This man who is now my dad is a man who has loved me when I have failed, has taught me when I was ignorant, has forgiven me when I needed to be forgiven, and has supported me when I was so alone. I remember when I announced my grand plans for my future and the words he spoke. Words I will never forget. “You are making a blue print for disaster.” I scoffed at him. What did he know? He was right. A failed marriage later I still remember those words. I marched away from a relationship with my dad but not from his words and not from remembering his laugh, his attempts at parenting a girl/young woman who was trying to find her way. We have our high and low points over the years but I always believed we had something special. Like the day I decided to call him “Dad” instead of “Tony” WOW that was huge….and he didn’t even hear me !!!! Or the day I asked him about something to do with a guy and he thought I was talking about an erection !!!! OMG It makes me laugh now remembering him trying to find the words to describe it. So now when I hear my dad, my DAD, telling me that the tumor is inoperable I feel such a heaviness in my heart. I feel like there is not enough time to capture all of the memories we have shared and laugh again at them. I am angry that something so ugly would invade my dads body because he is such a health nut. We can ask all the whys in the world and the take away is that we have each day, each moment to hold those precious to us and tell them, shout it out to the world how much they mean to us before it is over. And Mom, I know you don’t “share” with dad but maybe you could let him read this. =) I love you, Dad.