This is a post that has taken me too long to write because saying it "out loud" makes it real.
My father was cancer free for less than six months.
After chemo and surgery and a miracle that gave us time, it is back. The cancer is back.
It is harder this time. Last time I had the merciful gift of shock and disbelief and then we all went to the mountain top of hope. And now we have crashed back to the cavernous gully of reality.
I love my dad. My incredible, amazing, kind, funny, grouchy, hard working and overly protective dad who adores my children maybe even more than he adores me, and that makes me happier than I ever thought possible. My ever hopeful dad who has faced the idea of another round of chemo, then hopefully surgery and radiation, with a strength I cannot comprehend. He wants to live and he will do what it takes to live as long as possible.
And I want him to live. I need him to live.
Cancer doesn't care and it is never, ever fair. It doesn't care that my son desperately wants his Papa to see him play hockey for a "Big" team because it is his Papa that is his biggest fan. It doesn't care that my girls are too little to remember their Papa and they need a grandpa doting on them for many more years. It doesn't care that my dad's parents are still alive and that means I should have him for many more years just like he gets his parents. It doesn't care that I really, really love my dad or that he is a really, really great guy.
This is a journey I do not want to be on and yet I do not want you to be on it either. And that is the problem isn't it? None of us deserve this, or maybe in fact all of us do and its the random way it strikes or avoids that feels so unfair. If I wish this away, am I wishing in onto another family? Another dad and another daughter who looks like a woman but feels like a little girl who just needs her daddy?