After a decade of relative obscurity that lulled us into thinking everything is going to be ok, Dad’s cancer is suddenly back in full force. I mean, chemo full force. The real thing. And I’m not sure how to deal with that. Our parents are not supposed to die. They’re supposed to be the people who know everything and can do anything, forever and ever. Seeing my Dad get old and sick doesn’t feel real. My mind has trouble making sense of the preposterous notion that he might not live forever.
So I stand in this random hotel where I’m staying for an event, and I stare at the set of encyclopaedias we used to have at home as well, remembering the sounds of our family. I take small comfort knowing that those sounds will never die. I just wish my Dad wouldn’t either.