My dad is dying.
Blunt and out there.
I write to my fathers cancer almost daily. I find it helps, with getting on with life.
Children - they don’t understand why you’re crying in the kitchen at 5am when it won’t let you sleep, at 7pm when it won’t let you eat, so I talk to a Word Document instead.
I tell it how vile it is.
How those tumours are cells and we are a whole human. How I will not rest until it is curable as a headache.
Cancer is going to take him, it’s going to take his body. But his heart is so much better and so much stronger than cancer could ever dream of being.
Cancer is going to take my best friend.
And I hope he will be in the last hundred that is taken.
I will fight with ever fibre.
There’s nothing I can do, the powerless feeling like a fish out of water, I can’t do anything so I try to make peace with it. I can tell you now - I will not make peace with something that preys on the innocent, the kind, and the happy.
Im sorry is this isn’t the place - I’ve just joined and I thought if it helps me cope, it might help someone else who is struggling. We will beat it. It’s NOT fair.
