I’m still very much coming to terms with this fact. I’ve not cried, I’ve not got angry, I’ve not questioned the existence of a God or asked “why?”. I’ve got on with the fact that my Dads time is
limited and wherever I can I’ll spend some time with him.
But is not as easy as that is it? Every time I see him I’m reminded that he’s got cancer. His condition is starting to define him and my relationship with him. This makes me feel like shite, guilty, helpless.
My first question to him every day is “how are you feeling”, his answer, like my question is always
related to his condition. I’d give anything for that not to be the case.
So you go through the cliches, “take the good days to counterweight the bad” “enjoy the time you’ve got” etc. You know what, neither of those statements have anything to do with cancer. We all have good and bad days, we all enjoy whatever time we have. I can’t speak for my Dad, I’m not him, but I can speak for me and I can guide and advise my son, who at nine years old knows exactly what the situation is (I’d never lie to him) and who in his own way, is also coming to terms with the reality that faces us. We are refusing to stop doing the things we’d be doing if Dad didn’t have Cancer. This is of course under the caveat of what Dad can physically do.
Today we went to the Footie. We picked dad up, went to the ground, through the turnstiles, up the stairs (slowly) to our seat and watched the game. Dylan and Dad thoroughly enjoyed themselves
abusing the Ref, who was woefully out of his depth and lost control of the game in the first five minutes and the opposition no.7 who was wearing an Alice band and was a narky little shit (I’ve just
swore on EBF, the Editor will kill me!) They drank bovril and hot chocolate respectively, and Dylan cuddled his grandad for the entire game.
Afterwards, on the way home we went through in depth Analysis of the game and the day in general, Dylan passed his granddad walking stick to him as he got out of the car, we walked him into
the house, quick kiss and cuddle with Nanny and off we went.
We never mentioned Cancer once.
And this for me is the crux. I want days like today not to be “the good days”. I want days like today to be the NORMAL days, because that’s what they are, what’s more normal than a dad, lad and Grandad (and Uncle Matt, my brother) going to the match on a Saturday afternoon? Nothing, that’s what.