Then there is, of course, my husband. The man I love. And will always love, no matter what. But he added a great deal to my Loss because of his problem. Over the course of a few years, at his hands we have gone through so much money as well as items that I held dear. Items that I used and needed. Keepsakes that were invaluable. That is all I will say on that subject.
Over the past year, my father has found out that he is ill. I will always remember that afternoon that I took my brother to see a horror movie at the cinema. I brought him back to my dad’s apartment to drop him off. My dad looked like he was about to cry. I knew. Somehow I just knew.
Actually, a few days prior I had had this strange sensation that I should call my father, like maybe he had been in an accident or something and needed me. I later found out that that was the time when he had been at the doctor’s office. Strange how we’re connected like that. Or, when you think about it, not so strange at all.
I might be dying.
He said to us. My heart jumped into my throat. I love my father more than anyone in the whole world. I am a daddy’s girl. Always have and always will.
Those next few weeks were torture. We found out, thankfully, that he doesn’t have lung cancer. He has emphysema. No, it’s not exactly a death sentence, but having already lost two people to emphysema over the past 7 years, it’s still scary to me.
Nobody understands. Not my husband. Not my mother (who, of course, will always hold my father, her ex-husband, in a negative light). I go to eat with my dad almost every Sunday. Every time I see him, I think, Will this be the last time? Every birthday and holiday I think, Will he be here next Thanksgiving? Christmas? Father’s day?
No, he’s not sickly. But he coughs a lot. He doesn’t do a lot of the stuff he used to do. He doesn’t eat like I remember when I was a kid. He doesn’t even drink wine with me anymore at dinner. My mom thinks I’m blowing her off if I ask her to schedule our Sunday around the time I need to spend with my father. And my mother is another one – I lose her once a year to a new man,
Sometimes I just start crying because I think about him. My husband doesn’t support me, he thinks I’m just randomly moody. Nobody gets it. When my dad thought he had lung cancer, he said to me, “I thought I was invincible…” And, you know, I always thought the same thing. I want my father to live forever. I need him to.