My dad has always been super hero strong. When I was growing up, he was my hero. There was no stopping my father. No one could beat him up, and if you thought your dad was tougher, than I'd have my dad come pick me up and you'd see his size and change your story. My dad stands 6'4" tall, and looks like he has just swallowed a basketball. Even if you saw my dad today, you'd never know that come Monday, he'll be missing his lung.
I spent the day with my dad today, and it was one of the best days we've shared together. I refused to treat him like he was sick, and he insisted on making cancer jokes. I haven't always gotten along with him, there have been months that passed without us talking. Most people don't understand how we can function like that, and for a long time, I didn't understand it myself. But it's just the way we are. It's the way our entire family is. When times are good, they're fantastic, but when times are bad, well... they're lonely. I feel guilty that I've continued the trend. That I haven't been here to help my stepmom out. That I played along thinking that his cancer was merely a cold that was going to go away on it's own. That it was nothing serious at all. I wanted to forget, I wanted him to just be better. I just wanted him to stay my super hero father.
I know that he will walk away from all of this okay. I know that it's going to take some recovery time. He'll be a little slower now, and more appreciative of the small stuff in life. And there's this part of me that's thankful for all of this. Because it's made him just a little more humble, and a little more reflective on choices he made in life. Maybe when all is said and done, there won't be anymore months that slip pass between us, maybe we'll be just a bit more closer.
I need that to happen, and so does Emma. She needs to really get to know her Pop-Pop before we miss out on a second chance.
