He doesn't throw pity parties, and he doesn't tell people what he is going through because he doesn't want to hear the "I'm sorries" and "I can't imagine what you're going through" sentiments. Because they don't matter. They don't make the disease slow down, those words do nothing but make someone remember what they are going to have to face when their body stops fighting.
I think it is truly fucked up that people like my Dad, who have worked their asses off all their lives end up having something like this enter their system. There are so many shitty people out there who will live out their lives healthy, surrounded by money and everything they could ever want or need. It's fucking unfair.
For the sake of this blog, I am going to temporarily put away my anger and remember why I began writing this at all.
My husband, daughter and I went out to Dairy Queen last night and ate ice cream at the picnic tables adjacent to the store. The breeze was slight and cooled the air just enough to make outside completely comfortable to just sit, relax and reminisce. It made me remember going out for motorcycle rides with my Dad, where he would say "you go with Pete, you get a treat!" and he would sneak me off to the very same Dairy Queen to have chocolate covered ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles.
I remember going to Kung Fu with him three or four times a week, and every once in a while he'd treat me to Taco Bell (my end all be all at the time) before we got home. We'd always have to get rid of the evidence before we walked in the house, for my Mom would raise hell about spending money and an already made dinner.
I remember when I was sick with mono; my Dad took me out to French Creek to take a walk. He took a lot of pictures of me that day, and there is one photo that I still have (somewhere) of me, miserable with swollen glands, crouched next to a huge tree with a Slurpee next to some awesome scenery. I always loved that picture. Not because of the scenery, or because of the hilarity of my miserableness at that moment, but because my Dad took it. My Dad took that awesome picture.
My Dad is an amazing blues guitarist, photographer, artist, martial arts master. I have full confidence that regardless of how sick he feels, on any given day he could snap someone's neck no problem. He works at a shitty job, where people treat him like dogshit all day, despite the fact the he is one of the few remaining electricians that actually know what the fuck they are doing. He deserves a lot more respect than what he gets on a daily basis.
There are days when I wish I could surprise him or do something special for him, but my Dad doesn't like surprises, or big to-do's. He's just not that kind of person. He doesn't want people to make a big deal out of him, or go out of their way to throw him a party.
Today I finally realized, that the thing my Dad loves the most is spending time with his kids and his grandkids. When I see him with my daughter, I can see every single worry and every single hurt disappear from his eyes. He is the same way with my brother's children, he loves teaching them Kung Fu, music, art, all of the things he is awesome at and wants to pass on to them.
Of every member in my family, the core of who I am is my father. When I feel that anger rise up in my heart that makes me want to destroy someone who hurt someone I love, I know that's my father's anger. When my daughter does something amazing that makes me smile, I know that's my father's pride. When I walk straight into a wall without looking, and shake it off like nothing happened despite the pain that might shoot through my body from the impact, I know that's my father's resilience. When I tell my daughter Goopy and Gypy stories every night that involve ridiculous shenanigans that make her giggle, I know that's my father's sense of humor.
My father is a man that I look up to above any other man on this planet. I respect him through and through, love him with every fiber of my being, and ache for him when I see the bullshit he has to go through on a daily basis.
If leukemia were a man, I would beat him senseless with a baseball bat, wait until he wakes up, then slowly start chopping off his body parts. I would let him bleed to death and piss on him in the process. I would let him rot and laugh as birds pecked away at the body of a man who has caused so many good people to go through so much pain.
All I can do now is continue doing what I'm doing. Because I know that's what my Dad wants. He wants us to all be happy. I'm going to do that for him. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure my daughter, my husband and me are happy. I'm going to love my family through everything. I'm going to kick ass at my job, finish college and buy a house with my family. I'm going to be the person he made me to be.
I love you Dad. I don't care if you are mad that I wrote/posted this because I'm a stubborn bitch and you are just going to have to deal with it. You can blame the bitch part of me on Mom. :)