I think the Snotty Alice Cooper look is good for me, so I figured I'd keep it up. It was easy to do for two reasons. First, he forgot he was dying. Second, he thought he was going home.
He thought that he was at the hospital for treatments. He had such a hopeful look in his eyes that I couldn't bring myself to remind him--there are no more treatments. Treatments equal living to him. For five years they kept the disease at bay, killing it back each time. Then it just stops responding. Yes, then it spreads everywhere, including the brain. It's mercy, really, that his brain tricked him into having hope again for a minute. But I think it almost killed me to have to watch it.
"I want you to promise me two things: that you'll get in touch with your mother, and that you'll take responsibility for making sure I'm out of here tomorrow."
Really? Why not just charge me with curing your cancer. Sorry dad, I have to go.
My crying was scaring him. I couldn't stop, it was terrible. It kept getting worse because he knows I never cry. It was telling him what my lips would not, namely that he's on his way out. Imagine having to learn that more than once. I can't really think of anything more terrifying, because it seems like he would have to start from scratch with whatever strategy he'd adopted to come to terms with his mortality.
I'm not sure what makes me feel more guilty--that my life necessarily must go forward, or how badly I wish I had a place I could go to pretend like none of this exists. I used to come home on the weekends, and I could not wait to get here. If I didn't have to be at school, I was on my way home. I get this feeling of dread, now, knowing I will have to deal with this when I leave school. Everything is in disorder, everything makes me want to head back south. But being in Macon has no solace either, because there is nowhere to just be at peace. It feels like being homeless.
And life must go on. I have to take exams. I need to be outlining, not blogging. But I can't concentrate, and he needs me, just like he always has in the past. Oh well, it works out. It always does. And things fall apart. They get put back together in a different order and become reality. Of course, this new reality--this new state of order--it is just as doomed as its predecessor. It's a cycle of death and rebirth, of ashes and newly-planted seed. It doesn't make it any easier to know how things will end up. It really doesn't do anything at all.
Holy shit that's enough. I forgot I told people where this is, and people might read this. VERY scary, and sorry, potential reader, if that's the case. Warning: the Alice Cooper entries are not recommended. Hopefully Dad will be lucid in the morning.
"Promise you won't leave me stranded here." yes, he went there. Yes dad, I'll promise you. Of course I will. I wish you could promise me the same thing and follow through. Or maybe it would be good enough if I could just believe it.
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