Loving my Dad

I have spent quite a bit of time trying to understand the life altering shift of 2009. To say we have all felt emotionally stunned and debilitated for the past eight months is a dramatic understatement. The pain from watching someone you love suffer is inexplainable. This year has been filled with challenge upon challenge--pivotal moments that have struck so many chords, disrupting so many rhythms of our lives. Our dad has been our bedrock. His sweet solitude in spite of his intense suffering has been a vision to behold, to say the least. I cannot begin to describe the raw, intense, and remarkably satisfying love I feel for this man who has given me my life and perspective as I know it. The thought of his sacrifices for his children, each of us, never ceases to amaze me. My deep appreciation for him grows and grows with each moment I spend with him. And I am learning now that the time, while daunting and depressing in practice, is so beautiful. I cannot even begin to articulate the satisfaction I have felt with this bittersweet time spent with him.

I am continually trying to understand how it is that he has affected me so, why my connection to him is so palpable, and why I have embraced the fight against this disease with such fierceness and unconditional passion. I know I have a chip on my shoulder in defense of my dad's condition, similar in some ways to his own continued disbelief. I know I am still particularly angry and profoundly hurt that God has chosen this path for my sweet, harmless, God-fearing, sacrificing, incredibly good father. Logic escapes me when I think of it all--even as I accept, despite his nonsmoking adult life, his experiences and his history as sensible conclusions for this punishment.

I do find that I can admit I am learning there are sweet surprises hidden within this time too. I appreciate, with surprise and delight, that with the pain of walking daily through this struggle is the joy of knowing the absolute depth of my love and adoration of him. Our time together has become time I completely cherish. I look forward to our miserable Mondays in the Oncology Waiting Room, where we wait, at minimum, 90 minutes every single visit prior to being seen. I look forward to our days in the chemo clinic (obviously not because of where we are) because I am able to be near him, for as short as a one hour infusion or as long as an eight hour one, even if it means we sit beside each other in complete silence. His quiet presence is incredibly powerful to me. Through all of this, I cannot begin to express the manner in which my love of him has multiplied with each second I share with him. It has truly felt like a ripple effect, widening of love.

I now think and spend a lot of time contemplating suffering. I wonder, is it true, the deeper the pain one experiences, the more intense the joy? And if this is true, what--and where--is the joy?