Students present and Tardy
No complaint, no feeling at all in fact, alone in the dark of the morning listening to the HVAC warm the house.
These are the mornings of difficulty, trying to center before the work day starts, trying to remain calm knowing I must address my father directly afterwards.
He is a hard hard man, softened only slightly of late knowing what is to come. I wish I had warm stories to share with you but truth be told I do not know him well.
I believe he thought he would be one of the first to depart, God had other plans, and so over the years he has watched in disbelieve as all the good ones, his words not mine, have gone.
My father always lived by his own rules, no matter the cost to family or loved ones. I believe a result of his environment and selfishness, something he never seemed able to escape.
Which is a tragedy, because beneath the steel is a good man. A hardworking man who would give the shirt off his back. Reflected by how well loved by neighbors and friends he is now, where his past is hidden away.
To most but me, so I try to store it in shadow as both my father and I face his cancer. He has been fortunate because his treatments have kept it in remission, but the treatment harbors its own toll on the body.
He never dealt with illness before the C, and seemed to have a slight attitude towards those of us who did or suffered from chronic situations. Somewhat understandable since the wealthy can never truly know the hardships of poverty less they live it. Not that he is a rich man, less you count his blessing of my mother who moved on years before.
Still you search for compassion in bridging the gap and that is what I suspect is lacking here, I am not sure he understands how to feel for others. While he feels more now, I suspect fear is the underpinning force.
I have heard him tell one or two he loves them, an accidental overhearing via telephone when he thought someone else was on the line. A complicated matter when you consider all he has lived, but I’m sure there is some for me somewhere buried deep in hiding.
I listen to the warmth travel the house, waking up the walls and floors, and hear their sounds of response. These mornings are difficult because I struggle with keeping him safe while showing respect so he may maintain life of living on his own.
Difficult because I must throttle most of my feelings to remain unbiased so he has the best possible environment, until he doesn’t.
Difficult because I see the future wearing on him and in spite of our history the tears are blurring my vision.
The furnace has shut off and the silence returns to embrace me once more.
- **** Thanks to everyone, I appreciate your comments deeply *****
- I just want to add I am nothing, the world is full of others in similar situation. The special ones are the children’s parents I see at the cancer centers.
- Now that a few hours have passed, I see writing this share was therapeutic, helping me to grow, and how fortunate I am to have you to share it with. I promise the next to bring smile not tears. Thank you.