I'm getting my picture taken on Tuesday, and I don't know what to wear. I've been told I should wear something of a dark colour, with no print. Blue jeans, but not with a white tee because that's cliche. I should make sure that I complement the other outfits in the picture without being too matchy. And I should probably wear heels. My legs look damn good in heels.
The picture is being taken because my dad is dying. He was recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and my group of friends bought our family a photo session so we could be sure to have a nice picture with him, for posterity. (Have I mentioned how wonderful my friends are? I really do pick wonderful friends).
It's a strange feeling, realizing that someone you love is going to die. I mean, we're all going to die. And we generally don't get that much of a warning. It's strange to feel that the warning is a blessing.
Since we were warned, a lot has happened. I've been showered with kindness upon kindness, many of which I will never be able to repay. I've realized the importance of building a community of people you love and trust, and then sticking with that community. I've realized how important family is to me. I've realized how much I respect my dad.
This man, my father, has a laugh that fills every room and hallway in a home. He's deliberate in speech and even more deliberate in love. He values truth and honesty, and his one request is for people not to sugar coat how they're feeling. In the hospital, just out of exploratory surgery, after just receiving the news that he "had an expiration date" (as he so eloquently put it), his first thought was for the people that he loved. He said that he wanted whatever time he had left to be filled with love and that he wanted to help us come to terms with this situation in any way he could.
How blessed am I to have a father who has taught me Love... How happy am I to have time to be deliberate in loving him back...
I'm finding that one of the great challenges in all this is the Bereavement Voice. You know, the slight touch to the shoulder, the squinty look and the soft and pronounced, "How are you doing?" It's horrible to realize this, because I'm sure I've used the Bereavement Voice with every person I've ever cared about who has lost someone close to them. It's the best way to show them you care, right? Well I'm realizing that maybe it's not.
Our family has a long way to go in this journey. Some days, granted, are terrible. But other days are rather beautiful and I'm joyful and thankful and maybe not even thinking about the tragedy that is soon to befall us. As soon as I'm hit with the Bereavement Voice, it's like a slap in the face. HEY! BE SAD! TALK ABOUT YOUR PAIN AND HOW MUCH PAIN YOU'RE IN! REMEMBER YOUR PAIN? TALK ABOUT IT!!!!!! And if you're not feeling pain at that moment, you'd better conjure some up, otherwise you'll seem pretty callous.
I know that's not their intention. It's unfair of me to feel this way, but I do. I guess, really, I don't have an appropriate response for "How's your dad doing?" He's still alive. Right now he's alive. Everything else, I'll confide in you if I feel moved.
I was talking to someone recently whose dad is also dying. It was the most refreshing conversation, because it was completely candid. There was laughter in the conversation along with the sadness. Our society is funny in that we just don't know how to deal with death. No matter how often it happens, we still can't figure out how to approach it in a way that makes everyone feel alright. We're as clumsy as Canadian drivers during the first major snowfall of the year.
So the way I'm dealing with it is to carry on. And to laugh often, and to love much. And to take pictures, because I know I'm going to want them later. So I'll probably wear a green shirt, and maybe a scarf, and my hot black boots. And the best part is that no matter what I choose to wear, my dad will see me on Tuesday and tell me I look beautiful.
I may be perpetually single, I may seem to be completely clueless when it comes to intimacy with another human being, but you can't argue with the fact that I have a man in my life who loves me even more than he loves himself.
And, really, what more could a girl ask for?...
