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Remembering: January 20th, 2009
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I don't have a snappy title for this project, for now I'll call it Remembering. Maybe I will have something better by the end. As I approach a year since my Dad passed away, I have decided to reflect on what happened the days leading up to his death. This is meant as therapy for me. If it appears as though I am making light of a situation, know that I am processing. Some of this will hurt, but there were so many moments worth remembering. We define our lives in timed moments, anniversaries are lines we have drawn in the sand. I plan to make my own art from this. We are the keepers of the memories of the dead, and as Dad's person I have an obligation to remember.
I hope to draw strength from this project. It sounds simple, but nothing could be more complicated.
January 20th, 2009:
I was celebrating when the phone rang. I had been watching the Innaguration and as a historian and Democrat, I was terribly excited. I saw the 3 letters that meant I had to answer immediatly: Dad. I tried to ask if he was watching as well but his voice had purpose, information to give. I could tell by his tone that the news wasn't good. That tone would stay with him. I am no doctor, but I understood all too well the weight of his words.
Dad explained that the doctor had confirmed that the liver was having major issues as a result of the spreading cancer. This was a blow to Dad's hopes of starting chemo again soon. When he was originally diagnosed in Spring 2007, the doctors always said that if we can get the liver healthy, he has a chance. After almost 22 months of doctor visits, chemotherapy (sometimes once a week), and prayers we were facing the reality that some battles can't be won.
In his usual way, Dad brushed off the concerns I had about what this meant explaining that right now he needed to rest. As I hung up the phone, I had a strange feeling. It was almost like this wasn't my life. I channeled my nervous energy into preparing to be out of work for a few days to see Dad. I wanted to call my sister but Dad had explained that even if she answered, we really didn't have any specifics to give her. While I disagreed, it was his decision. This would become a trend, Dad and I disagreeing about what to tell people. In the end, I always did what he asked. It was the least I could do.
Dad went to the Emergency Room later that night, hoping they would attemt putting liver stints in sooner rather than later. This was classic Dad, not settling for anything less then what he thought was best. I think that is why he fought for so long; he simply loved life. This was the beginning of almost 2 weeks of Dad going in and out of the hospital. It was also the begining of the end of my hope that he would beat his cancer.
On a brighter note, my husband sent me this picture that day. It was the littlest of things that meant so much.
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