Three weeks ago, my dad’s doctor told us that he only has “weeks” left. A good friend who lost her mother to cancer told me to write. She said she had a hard time verbalizing how she felt and what she was going through, but she found writing to be helpful. So, here I am.
As my dad has been fighting the cancer that is taking over his body, he is bound and determined to organize his home office and fix little things around the house. Since dad has very little strength, my brother is going through the list of loose railings and squeaky doors fixing all the nooks and crannies of my parents’ new house. Meanwhile, I am helping with the office by organizing Bible Studies in the correct Biblical order and separating books into categories like counseling, prayer, Methodism, famous authors, and history. With each book, I read the title and dad tells me the author and gives me a review of the book. In the process, I have already acquired a box full of books on healing, creativity, leadership, and C.S. Lewis. I often think my family has no idea who I am and what I am interested in, but, through this process, I recognize that my dad sees me for who I am and knows what books would interest me.
Among his piles of papers, I found print outs of blogs I wrote years ago. My dad looked at me and said, “I think you know that author.” Then he told me that, every once in a while, he logs onto my old blog to see if I’ve written anything else. I’ve always liked writing and he knows that. I thought it could be interesting to record these “weeks” of his life in a good light and a reflective light. Somehow, I have a feeling that most of us will only remember the sadness of it all. However, I see a joy in all of this. I see an opportunity to meet my dad for the first time and to get to know him i a different way.
So, as I move books from shelf to shelf and sort through papers, I will listen and take note of what he is trying to share. I don’t know why organizing his office or water sealing the deck is so important to him right now, but I respect his wishes and am willing to help him with whatever he needs.To be honest, if the doctor gave me “weeks” to live, I would try to get a nice place on a warm beach and drink wine and eat fondue until I was ready to walk towards the light.