Yes, I know I’m 3 days late in mentioning Father’s Day around here. You may even notice I rarely mention holidays period. See, I have a hard time with holidays in general. I’m never with my family back in England and so I can’t help but feel a little homesick. Sometimes a lot homesick.
This Father’s Day hit me particularly hard. As some of you may of read, my father has cancer. Mesothelioma cancer to be exact. There’s no getting rid of it. Doctors suspect he’s had it for years and years – possibly decades. Thankfully, due to chemotherapy it hasn’t grown since we found out over a year ago. And in fact, the doctors are baffled that my dad is showing no signs of having cancer. Obviously, he feels the effects of the chemo, but other than that, he’s as fit as a fiddle. So in that sense, we are blessed. We are also blessed that we can use the word remission. But I’ll be honest, when it’s attached to something so ugly, it’s hard to process. Ugh, I can’t find the words to describe what I mean and so I won’t.
So, moving on… I know I am biased, but I really have the best parents. I hear tales all the time from friends about parental issues. I have none. Never have beyond the typical teenager/parent ones. My parents always gave me enough freedom to be myself with guidance as needed. They pick me up when I’m down and give me a kick up the arse as required. I can tell them both anything. And that only scratches the surface of how great they are. I really couldn’t ask for better parents. A better mother. A better father.
Unfortunately, words are too painful for me to write anymore on this, but I simply need to say (and excuse the language) out loud – I FUCKING HATE CANCER!
And more importantly, I love you Dad!
P.S. The photo is of me getting my first chug of beer. I can assure you my reaction is no longer like the above. It makes me giggle every time I look at it and it’s probably one of my most favorites photos of my Dad and I together.
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