Beggar in the morning
It wasn't until this experience with my Dad's diagnosis that I truly understood the adage, life is short. To go along with all this, I understand now life is truly unfair and the world does not owe you anything. Not a single thing. Of course I knew life was never fair, but not this unfair.
“People die all the time. Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely. It's too easy not to make the effort, then weep and wring your hands after the person dies.”
My father is 63 years old. He left his home at the age of 16 to go and work and actually send money back to his family to keep them afloat all the while keeping sustaining himself. My grandfather was a drunkard and my grandmother didn't do much either. He moves to Canada working his entire life to put his kids in school. *Insert family history drama*. Dad worked hard and only wanted to help others his entire life. And he gets diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Why? I just don't understand why it had to be my Dad? My Dad told me he had all these plans to travel with my Mom once he retires next year. That really hurt to hear. Unfulfilled plans. It stills hurts. It makes me cry.
My Dad's one of the good guys. He's my rock. My guardian. My best friend. God, it's hard to write this without crying. There's nothing worse than feeling helpless. I would do anything to save my Dad. Anything. But I can't. And inevitably, the doctors believe he'll be taken away soon. Away from us. Why?
I saw a Polaris truck pass by in front of me while I listened to Jimmy Eat World in the car.
My family had a prayer meeting for my Dad. My family is quite religious. Everyone went around saying a prayer for my Dad. We prayed to God for a miracle. Kind of crazy, but at the end of the prayer meeting, the phone in the basement started making a busy tone. Nobody was in the basement, and nobody used the phone earlier. I hope someone was listening.
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"The only thing you can. Grow up."
"I don't want to."
"No other way," I said. "Everyone does, like it or not. People get older. That's how they deal with it. They deal with it till the day they die. It's always been this way. Always will be. It's not just you."
She looked up at me, her face streaked with tears. "Don't you believe in comforting people?"
"I was comforting you."
I need to sit down with Haruki Murakami and have a drink with him one day. We wouldn't even need to talk.
I'm so sick and tired of being let down by friends. It's probably my fault for surrounding myself with the people I hang out with. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. I would consider moving back to Calgary or even Vancouver when I finish me.
Another lesson I've learned is to really stop putting in the effort of maintaining friendships with people that don't reciprocate. I think it's hard to let go, especially when you know feel like you get along well and you have that history. Also confusing when your friends say let's hang out but never make an effort to actually hang out.
Whatever. I'm definitely not the same person I was September 1, 2014. I know I'm a little wiser, and a lot colder.
“People die all the time. Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely. It's too easy not to make the effort, then weep and wring your hands after the person dies.”
My father is 63 years old. He left his home at the age of 16 to go and work and actually send money back to his family to keep them afloat all the while keeping sustaining himself. My grandfather was a drunkard and my grandmother didn't do much either. He moves to Canada working his entire life to put his kids in school. *Insert family history drama*. Dad worked hard and only wanted to help others his entire life. And he gets diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Why? I just don't understand why it had to be my Dad? My Dad told me he had all these plans to travel with my Mom once he retires next year. That really hurt to hear. Unfulfilled plans. It stills hurts. It makes me cry.
My Dad's one of the good guys. He's my rock. My guardian. My best friend. God, it's hard to write this without crying. There's nothing worse than feeling helpless. I would do anything to save my Dad. Anything. But I can't. And inevitably, the doctors believe he'll be taken away soon. Away from us. Why?
I saw a Polaris truck pass by in front of me while I listened to Jimmy Eat World in the car.
My family had a prayer meeting for my Dad. My family is quite religious. Everyone went around saying a prayer for my Dad. We prayed to God for a miracle. Kind of crazy, but at the end of the prayer meeting, the phone in the basement started making a busy tone. Nobody was in the basement, and nobody used the phone earlier. I hope someone was listening.
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"The only thing you can. Grow up."
"I don't want to."
"No other way," I said. "Everyone does, like it or not. People get older. That's how they deal with it. They deal with it till the day they die. It's always been this way. Always will be. It's not just you."
She looked up at me, her face streaked with tears. "Don't you believe in comforting people?"
"I was comforting you."
I need to sit down with Haruki Murakami and have a drink with him one day. We wouldn't even need to talk.
I'm so sick and tired of being let down by friends. It's probably my fault for surrounding myself with the people I hang out with. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. I would consider moving back to Calgary or even Vancouver when I finish me.
Another lesson I've learned is to really stop putting in the effort of maintaining friendships with people that don't reciprocate. I think it's hard to let go, especially when you know feel like you get along well and you have that history. Also confusing when your friends say let's hang out but never make an effort to actually hang out.
Whatever. I'm definitely not the same person I was September 1, 2014. I know I'm a little wiser, and a lot colder.