You’re kidding me, right?
Me: Hi, dad. How’re you feeling?
Him: (tearing up) I’m so, so sorry.
Alison’s mother finally went home the other day. She came here with such joy, expecting to stay only a few days. She left heartbroken almost two years later. I grieve for myself, for Alison, for Nate, for her family, and for her.
I just grieve in general. But I don’t even have time to do that properly.
See, she took Nate with her for a week because I needed to attend to a completely new catastrophe.
It’s about time to tell you about one of the other two atomic bombs in my life: My father has Stage 4 Lung Cancer.
Do you read me and think: You’re kidding me, right?
Cause that’s pretty much how I’ve been going through life the past five years. Wake up and think: You’re kidding me, right?
The kicker’s that he’s never smoked a day in his life. Just like Alison didn’t fit the profile of a glioblastoma. These two tragedies hit us from far outta nowhere.
And there was a third atomic bomb I’ve still not told you about.
In any case, it was him I went to see in the ER last week while Alison lay dying. Saw him again yesterday.
My heart gets no rest.
Couldn’t stay long. Can’t bear being in hospitals anymore. Spent too many goddamn days and nights in them these past two years.
It’s a good thing that my brother’s in town – he came to see my dad and check in on Alison. He was here when she passed.
He’s here right now and staying over most nights, I suspect to keep an eye on me. Don’t blame him. If I were in his shoes, I’d do the same.
Then again, life seems determined to break me. I won’t let it. Can’t let it.
At least my brother provides some much-needed levity from time-to-time.
Mom: For Nate, you need to find help you can trust.
Him: (to me) Well, all that time you spent looking for untrustworthy help was a complete waste.
Location: in bed for the first time in over a year-and-a-half
Music: Hopped on the metro and I make my way home