A Dream Come True

A Family For A Moment

(Here's a short and true story I wrote a few years ago, I am publishing it to commemorate what would have been my dad's 70th birthday on January 31st.)

I remember the afternoon of the 22nd December 2006 like it was yesterday. I even remember the yellow dress I wore that day. My Mom had called me during a usual working day to ask me to come home immediately.  Once I put down the telephone I was sure of my mission: drop everything I was busy with, tell my boss I had to leave and get home as fast as possible.  This kind of interruption and frantic pace had become a normal way of life back then. I liken it to what actors must experience when they leave their immersed characters and the movie set behind and return home to their families. They probably get very good at switching hats (or so I think). So that afternoon I had on my “lets get Dad to the hospital as fast as we can” hat. I left work behind and instantly forgot about it. The journey home was a blur.

I do however recall the journey from Dad’s bed to the car and our brave attempts at trying to get this whisper of a man into the “yellow submarine”. Mom’s car was a bright; banana-yellow, the kind that is usefully and instantly recognisable in a parking lot. Dad was just about ready to gingerly board the yellow submarine when his shorts began to wobble and give in to gravity. To be honest, he wasn’t really wearing his shorts; they wore him and as a result, they dangled precariously from his bony hips. We managed to rescue the shorts - and his dignity in the broad summer daylight. Again, I cannot remember the drive to the hospital nevertheless I am certain of one thing, that I broke a few speed limits en route. 

I can see Dad now, lying in the emergency admission ward. There were a few young; newly qualified doctors around, one was trying to find a suitable vein and failing.  I watched with unease. I could feel my legs growing heavy and I swayed a bit. I immediately stepped out into the hallway to catch my breath. I simply did not want to faint and cause further worry. I needed to keep it together. I needed to be strong yet I didn’t want those needles to invade Dad’s veins. I didn’t want his body poked and prodded. Was this not my Dad who prided himself on his neat hair, being cleanly shaven, dressing decently and carrying himself well? Was he not the man who stood tall, upright and healthy and had the best general knowledge of anyone I knew? No he was not this Dad. He was a different Dad. He had changed. He was now my wasted, tired, sore and dying Dad.  Apparently if we had arrived at the hospital any later than we did, Dad would have died. Speed limits are sometimes worth breaking.

Facing the prospect of death day after day is understandably cumbersome. It’s like carrying a weight on your shoulders, perhaps a few bricks on each one, sometimes they feel heavier and other times lighter but the bricks are always there. It’s hard to move around and think clearly. It’s difficult to gain any sort of sensible perspective on day-to-day life. Going to work and analysing stock prices was like going to the park with friends, a respite. But it was short-lived as the reality of a dying household waited for me each day. But in this daily battle I learned that every second that death does not come is worth living. 

My brother arrived at the hospital a short while later. I am sure he broke a few speed limits too and frankly no one cared. Dad was whisked off for x-rays and just like in the movies, the doctor called us into a little room and shut the door. He asked us if we would like to sit down. This is when you know don’t you. You know its not good news. Does sitting down make it any better to handle I wondered. I paced continuously, unable to rest in the knowledge of the sad news that I knew was inevitable. As soon as the doctor said what he had to say, my brother collapsed. Now I know why they ask us to sit down. It was shocking to see this young man, my brother, crumple so easily to the floor. In that moment I had great compassion for my family. I gathered them together and I did the only thing I knew how to do, I prayed. Even in the midst of this catastrophic news, my heart was wild with hope, love and compassion. In the midst of death, there is life.

Three days later, Mom cooked her annual sumptuous Jamie Oliver-style lamb roast with all the trimmings. Yet instead of our usual gathering around our finely laid dining table, toasting Christmas, the festive fare was packed into cooler bags and off we went to celebrate in the cancer ward. Dad was desperate to be home for Christmas but his condition was more than desperate, so on doctors’ orders, he remained in the hospital. We gathered around him, all somehow managing to fit on the single bed. We chatted and laughed. We wished him a merry Christmas and we ate together. My brother became Dad’s trusty barber, deftly trimming Dad’s nose hairs and giving him a hearty shave. What a wonderfully intimate and loving thing to do. My heart swelled within me as I watched father and son. I sometimes wanted to let out a great howling wail of sorrow and yet the love I felt somehow comforted me.

In the meanwhile, I felt compelled to read the text messages on Dad’s mobile phone. I was working my way through them to my heart’s content when my mom pointed out that it was rude to read other people’s messages. I acknowledged her protest, persevered and then behold…I found the reason for the rebuke. The text she sent Dad was simple; it was a message of forgiveness and love. In my eyes, my parents suddenly moved from standing on a bridge over troubled waters to floating on a river of peace.  Their married years of strife, bitterness, anger, disappointment and regret were replaced with forgiveness, reconciliation and love. I did the only thing I knew how to do, I thanked God. 

As I shared this most special and wonderful Christmas ever, in a grey hospital room on the cancer ward, with my Mom, Dad and brother, I realised that my dream had finally come true. I had a real family for the first time in my life, there was love, there was joy and even in the midst of death, there was life.