|2007-04-26 - 7:18 a.m.
there's only one person i want to talk to right now and i can't. the meaning of things can change so quickly and yet we forget to remember. i sit, as gorgeous as ever, tears streaming down my face, trying to stop time from spinning out of control, holding the universe in my palm as i weigh options, lovers, patterns, choices, priorities. i'm trying to see the message spelled out in the clouds.
after a routine pet-scan, they found a lump on my father's lungs.
i told him not to worry. that he was simply and old car. first it was the carburetor, then the transmission. i told him it wasn't part of a bigger picture. the doctors don't think it's cancer again. or so says my father, a man so out of touch with reality, he told me he's waiting to find out if the surgery will be outpatient. yes father, you are having a tumor removed from your lungs, then you can go back to work the next day. fucking moron. or not. maybe this level of dissociation with reality will actually be useful in fighting for his life. one could only have that level of hope if they were completely out of touch or the poster child for positivity and buddhism, things that do not describe my dad.
so i was ok when i first found out. but then i called my sister. and she said, this is the beginning you know. no. i don't know. this is the beginning of cancer's retaliation. it happens like this. you think you beat it. you lose the fear. you get over the 2-3 year hump. and then it comes back. and this is the thing that people fear who have cancer even once. that they will keep it at bay, but it will never give up.
my father is scheduled to have surgery next week. i'm leaving for coachella first thing tomorrow morning. i don't know who will be at his side but it can't be me right now. everyone in my family has their life in order. any disruption for them will be temporary. my mom. my sister. they can help my father. a short commute, a life waiting for them when they return. i'm a different story. i'm in the midst of transitions. i'm meeting with schools. i'm setting up the life that i need. and yet, when it comes to my family in a crisis, i am the backbone, the sedative, the pastor. i will be needed to glue the pieces. and, although my father did NOT earn this, i feel total responsibility for him. as a human. as his blood. as a person of value and unlimited compassion (for others, at least, not for myself).
i've battled and wrestled these past few weeks. visitors from germany and england, while angelic siblings, leave me desperate to isolate and find discipline. the days are turning to summer and my mornings become religious with neighborhood runs and yogic recoveries. my time. i'm starting to feel distance between everyone around me. you don't really know me. i don't really know you. i don't know why this is happening. all i want to do is immerse myself completely into school and escape the exposure of human interaction.
fuck my father. if he was half the man he was supposed to be, he might have raised a healthy daughter. he might have left a legacy of a whole woman with a whole heart and a whole life. but instead, he left me and here i go rising to be the person i believe people should be. running to spread compassion and comfort and bind the loosening of crisis. making mile-long quilts out of silver linings.
i'm outside my body looking in. i'm writing this now for someone to read. i'm the someone. you're the someone. i'm trying to draw from the wisdom of who i am in this moment. i am a machine. i am a vehicle for love. i am always going to be ok.