This week I am supposed to be enjoying the Easter Holidays. It was supposed to be a time of relaxation, preparing for the new term and helping my other half with his business. It was all going to well, perhaps a little too well.
A week ago, I received the news that my Dad, who has been cancer free for 4 and a half years, is now terminal. The doctors simply told him; there is nothing they can do and to get his effects in order to prepare for the worst. Even as I write, the tears fall from my eyes, trickling down my face like angry warriors. I know that it is news I should have been expecting. When someone has cancer, it is likely to return, no matter how much you wish for it not to. And no matter how much you think you will be prepared for the news to come, you really won’t.
I thought I had done all my crying when he was first diagnosed with a rare sarcoma; I cried almost non-stop for a week and thought at the time that there couldn’t possibly be any more tears left. I was heartbroken. That might sound silly, but that is how it felt. Like a hole had been cruelly ripped in my heart and it was never going to mend. In the past week I have cried three times. When I was told, when I thought about going on holiday at Christmas and when I couldn’t remember his favourite soft drink when I went to the garage.
Today, it has truly hit me. Today, I came home from taking my mum to her check up and I understood in my heart how much they mean to each other. In a how will they live without each other kind of way.
Right now, I feel numb. I know my world is changing and the reality that my Dad will one day no longer be a part of that is more real than I can accept.
I feel helpless, vulnerable, lost. I wish I could do more. But I know, I can do nothing.
Nothing. In this world, the knowledge that you can do nothing, is an unacceptable pain we will all face. And I can tell you it is one of the worst feelings you will ever experience.