Love and Cancer - part IV (the god damn talk)

This is my fourth blog about dealing with dad's cancer

Just to break the monotony I tried getting to the Nuart, to see HR Giger, Dark Star, but in between dad, family, arranging another trip home to MN, work, and suddenly nursing a cold, I simply didn't have time (or energy) for anything else.

All I kept thinking was; I'm supposed to be in France. Paris, near Saint Germain de Pres. I wanted to be the next (American modern Buddhist) existentialist to sit at the cafés, eat fresh baked croissants, inhale second hand smoke, and write something completely philosophical, angsty and brilliant.

Coffee and cigarettes. It's a thing with French people. And before you get "holy" about the second hand smoke comment, my dad being sick and all, I'm an adult, I make my own decisions. I was involved with a Swede for a number of years who smoked 2 packs a day. Though I had quit smoking, I was inhaling second hand smoke the whole time we were together. The things we ignore in the pursuit of happiness, eh?

Be that as it may

I'm glad I didn't go to Paris. Dad wanted me to still go. I'm glad I didn't. The Louvre, will be there next year.

Hurry up and wait. That's the game now. Lots of waiting. Wait for June 2nd to go back to MN. Wait for dad to transfer to the next hospital. Wait for the next specialist. Wait for improvement. Wait for...

Just

Sitting and waiting.

Your life will be put on hold. Your patience will be tested (repeatedly). You will fight with your family. You will reconfirm who your true friends are. And you will quickly realize if the people you work for, and with, are the right people to work for, and with. You will rethink your life goals both long and short, and if you want to keep living at your present address. Nothing will be the same. Nothing.

You will do a lot of inner (soul) searching. Not because a loved one is dying of cancer, but because of the way people will react towards you as you go through this awful time.

Many people acted inconvenienced by my dad's cancer, including family. These people act as if I owe them something for redirecting all my attention to my dad. Right about now is where I blog the words "those people can suck my dick" but I'm trying to avoid saying things like that because, well for one, it goes without saying, and for two, my vulgarity doesn't help (you) in the least... though it does make me feel better!

What do you think happens when when you die? I don't think anything happens. You die. The end. I guess that's why I never grasped religion. Not all Buddhists believe in reincarnation. I don't. Then again I'm more philosophical, than Buddhist, though my philosophy stems from the basic fundamentals of Buddhism. This is what I wanted to write about in Paris. I wanted to further reflect upon what (HH the) Dalai Lama, spoke of at Times Square, on the subject of emotionally/mentally benefiting being a Buddhist/existentialist, but in 2015.

I'm not "against" religion. I'm truly not. But when used as a crutch and an excuse rather than facing and correcting the errors of self, thus being more self aware, drives me crazy.

"I have sinned!"

Ok look, if this isn't a porn I don't want to see or hear about it.

You've sinned. Um ok. If you're not happy about it, don't do it again.

There. Problem solved.

My dad being a (Mormon raised) born again Christian, made/makes it difficult to have conversations with him sometimes, especially during (this) time. He says things, I just don't have a response for. Actually I do, but I don't want to get into a theological debate with him.

Dad was a wrecking ball when he was younger. Did a lot damage. Openly admits it. He was never your typical dad. He never said dad-like things until he was in his late 50's. I don't think he ever once told me as a kid to clean my room, or eat my vegetables. But he and I understood each other and we never passed (too much) judgement. There are very few words in the English language I don't say around my dad.

More than anything both dad and I always needed to "go" somewhere, anywhere, else. We were always searching to find our "place". You either get it, or you don't. It was always about the journey. The journey helped us become who we want to be.

Now, today, for dad, it's the destination. And only he knows how to get there. It's terrible to watch. I struggle with it. Hard.

I struggle watching him pray, when there were/are other options that might actually WORK.

But

THIS is how dad needs to get to his destination. And who am I to say if it's right or wrong.

Maybe 25 years from now I'll look back at this time and be enlightened. Maybe dad is teaching me something I can't comprehend right now.

Just don't tell my dad I blogged that last part or he'll gloat. He's sick. But he's never too sick to tell me he told me so.