Monday, March 18, 2013

The Worst That Can Happen - a sad post

So you go about your day, paying bills, making dinner, worrying about things, etc. Then something happens. When "something" happens, I always envision the very worst, mentally prepare for it, and let it go, knowing I can handle it...with a few exceptions.

To me, the absolute Worst That Can Possibly Happen is seeing one of my loved ones struggle or in pain, knowing there is nothing I can do. This scrapes away all the daily b.s. and hits me right at my core. 

My daddy's cancer is trying to kill him, painfully and without any mercy. And there is nothing I can do about it. 

Those that know me well, know what my daddy means to me. He's a good man, a hard worker, pure of heart, and simple in his needs. If he can, he will help those that need it, and sometimes those that don't. He's a strong-willed man, but not overbearing in the slightest. He brings light and joy to those that have the pleasure to know him. The sheer amount of people that love him is overwhelming. He's been my model and mentor on how to live a good life -- one of strength, love, goodwill, and happiness. 

Now this evil thing, Cancer, is taking him away. Slowly, painfully, and without any consideration of how good he is. I'm helpless and heartbroken. Watching him struggle with the pain and realization that he may not be able to conquer this thing, is about to break me into little, tiny pieces, and causes me to wonder if I am truly as strong as I believed I was. I go back and forth between being overwhelmingly inspired at how many people truly love him -- a testament to a well-lived life -- and bitter with the thought that to Cancer, it simply doesn't matter. I struggle to find any measure of comfort and go from wanting to collect people that love me together and hear their kind words, and wanting to wall myself off in a dark, little hole and speak to absolutely no one. 

He sent me home and I know why. He doesn't want to be the cause of my pain, and knows that I need to get back to my daily routine in order to prove to myself that my life will go on, regardless. I'm not sure how I feel about it -- guilty or relieved? There IS nothing I can do but look at him and ask, "can I do anything?" if I were there, both of us knowing there isn't. Who wants to be looked at with eyes filled with pain all the time? I understand. 

My love for my father goes beyond blood. It's an honest respect, an admiration, a deeply felt gratitude that he has made me a better person, a stronger person, and one with instinctual and practiced goodness. 

It's insulting to me that life goes on, that bills have to be paid, that my young business needs attention to grow. I'm really trying to get past this resentment and care. Really. But you will have to forgive me if I'm lax in this area. I'm struggling in the most basic of ways. I'm simply heartbroken. 


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