Tears won't change things...

My Dad has cancer.

It's not your everyday, ordinary, "go get some chemo and odds are you'll be alright for a few years" type of cancer either. No, it's the real deal; lung, brain, lymph nodes, bone marrow type. The type that isn't controlled or even maintained easily. It's the type that has the potential to make him suffer... a lot.

One thing about dad is that he'll be as tough as anyone who ever battled the disease. I know because in thirty years of being around him he has always been the toughest man I've ever known... and that is objectively speaking. The stories that I hear say he knocked out a horse once by punching it between the eyes. (A response to it nearly trampling small children). He carried cross ties by twos... on his shoulders. I personally saw him lift a Volkswagen Beetle onto its side by himself, and the knuckle prints are still in the steel door at their house from when he once lost his patience (which happened a lot before the grandkids were born).

When I was a kid, I never really got into one of those arguments that "my dad could beat up your dad" I didn't need to because in my mind there was no debate. I'd already seen him do his Lou Ferigno impression. When I was still a toddler he scared me by shredding his shirt like the Incredible Hulk. It was then that I knew all I needed to. No one's dad can beat up the Incredible Hulk. No one's. And my Dad was easily just as big and strong as him so what was the point in arguing? The Incredible Hulk would never beat up someone's Dad just to prove he could - and my Dad wouldn't either.

And that's the real point of the story.

It's 27 years after the shirt shredding incident and he was laid up, barely able to do anything, and not realizing that cancer was ravaging him, when I had a wake to go to. After he realized who I was going to see and that he'd known the guy and his wife for years he told me: "You tell Steve (the widower) that if he needs anything to just call me. I know I can't do much right now but as soon as I'm feeling better I'll take care of it. And if I can't, it won't matter, we'll get it taken care of somehow. You just make sure you tell him I'm sorry I can't be there, but no matter what he needs, if we can help we will." That's Dad in a nutshell. That's how he's always been. Whether beneficial or not, he's always thought of other people first.

He's going to have a really tough time with this sickness, but not because of the reasons that others have. He'll feel pain throughout the process, but you won't be able to tell it. What will hurt him the most is that he can't just tell someone he can help and necessarily do it all the time. He's the one who will need the help and that will madden him most of all. He doesn't like people making a big deal about him. Heck, when we had a surprise birthday party for him a few years ago, he didn't even want to come in after he found out what it was. Mom finally drug him from the parking lot.

So, I just wanted everyone to know... Dad's sick. It's painful for me and my family to experience, but it can't compare to what he must go through every day. However, you must know that there is one beautiful part to all this. Dad's sickness has reminded us all that every single day is a gift, and we should stop worrying about things that don't involve reminding those around us that we love them. Dad has always had his own ways of showing it, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone around him that doesn't know he cares.

Take care of yourselves, and I didn't realize how appropriate it would be to say...

be better... Dad. I love you.

-Bill(y)