These are the thoughts of a Texas transplant in West Michigan who makes his living as a newspaper reporter by evening, and a struggling novelist by day.

Sunday, April 22, 2007


i feel completely frustrated right now with my dad's cancer. i can do nothing, say nothing, nothing, nothing nothing.

since i last updated on his sitation, he went into the hospital and came out.he had an infection and he was over it. he went to his doctor, who told him the pain he's feeling in his middle was infection-related. he did urge him to eat more and gave him pills. also, he stopped or slowed down other pills.

mom is tired, stressed out and extremely worried. i can hear it in her voice. when i talked to her awhile ago, she told me dad had eaten only a waffle all day (and it was 9 p.m. already). she said he didn't look good.

i talked to him, but it was forced. he made little conversation, showed little animation, even after i told him that a four-inch white hair had been plucked from the back of my head (i'd been so proud not to have had an white in my head). it elicited nothing from him. even talking about little emma was lackluster. he simply said that he had to go and that was it.

i just don't know. what can i do? words of encouragemetn seem futile and stupid. i just don't know.

i've never been frustrated by my dad's cancer as i am right now. maybe i know that things aren't going well. maybe this time it's finally really sunk in and there's no turning back from this one. all of the twists and turns in the road are done and it's a straight path now leading towards...well, towards the end. i don't like to think about that, but maybe it's so.

i was thinking about my dad earlier today, and also thinking of what my friend jess wrote last week how we'd like to have our parents look and feel the way they did when we were young, ageless, healthy, vibrant with a life ahead of them.

i got to thinking of my dad and how he looked when i was 15. he was thin, but strong with a head full of black hair with whitish-gray sideburns a few inches long. his eyes were thoughtful, if not a little sad. his skin was tanned from lots of time outside, his forearms hairy and a gold wedding ring that he rarely took off (underneth his skin was white). he grew a quick beard and had to shave daily (every night after showering). i remember feeling that skin and it was smoooth after he applied shaving cream to it. he loved the outdoors and enjoyed ranch life, whether it was working on a fenceline, fixing a windmill, or feeding cattle. he spoke quietly but made himself understood; he didn't really have to yell and never cursed outloud. he was a gentleman that way. he was a loving father who would do what it took to make sure his wife and children had what they needed. he sacrificed a lot. he cared a lot.

i think that's how i'll choose to remember my dad. i'll see him through the eyes of a 15 year old.

i'm going to miss my dad when the times comes. i already do.