My dad was diagnosed with an untreatable brain tumour a few days before Christmas, after suddenly becoming ill.
I can't cry. (Well, except for a week last Tuesday when it looked like the final moments were upon us and the pathos of the situation got to me.) I've "nearly" cried a few times, but it's just come out like a dry sob - like when you try to be sick, but haven't got anything left to bring up.
And I can't stop talking about it. I've told family; friends; friends of friends; colleagues and random strangers unlucky enough to ask me "How are you?". "Well, not too bad - except that my dad's got CANCER. Yes, CANCER! No, we don't expect him to get better."
Surprisingly, few people avert their eyes and shuffle away. Almost everyone is incredibly kind and says the right thing (or says the wrong thing, but with the right sentiment). They say "Is there anything I can do?" (and I think they mostly mean it). Or "If you want to talk, just call - anytime, even if it's the middle of the night".
My boss has arranged for me to be temporarily transferred to a location closer to where my family live. My neighbours are looking after my cats. My boyfriend has secretly been round to my house to clean it (luckily for him my cleaner beat him to it).
I wonder just how many people are waiting for a chance to be kind to others, even people they barely know? Mum says that she's been surprised at how many of her friends have kept in touch. She's been through this before in her early 20's when her brother died of bone cancer. Back then people just stayed away. Perhaps now many of us move away from our families for work, friends really are the new family?
And of course new technology makes communicating easier. Not just because it makes it easier to get hold of people. Facebook posts, SMS texts and emails have all made it possible to say things that are unbearable to voice.
