“I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.”
“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
I found out today that my dad has liver cancer. Terry called me at home with the news. My mom didn’t tell me herself because she was afraid I was driving around town with the kids, and didn’t want to upset me. It was probably best to hear it from Terry.
The phone call was a shock—we knew my dad had health problems, but none of us expected it to be this serious. When Terry told me, the news hit my stomach with a thud, and left an acrid taste in my mouth.
While I had this visceral reaction, my mind raced with what I had to do to get through the rest of the day:
1. Take James to preschool.
2. Pick up Ethan from school.
3. Go to the store.
4. Pick up James from preschool.
5. Find something to entertain the boys while I make dinner.
None of these tasks made sense to me anymore. It was like my life was a pile of books that were pushed off a table and strewn all over the floor. Now it’s time to pick up the books and put them back into order, but what order is that?
While I went through the motions of my day, the only thing that made sense was to go see my dad. I’m very grateful that he lives 45 minutes away, and I can see him this weekend. Then we’ll take it from there.
18 hours ago