Sunday, September 20, 2009

Nobody Knows

My Dad. His hands. His striped shirts. His smile.

I wish we would have let the tumor stay. I wish I could have convinced my family to take him to Mexico for Gerson Therapy. My Dad was totally normal then. I feel like we have failed him. I feel like the system has failed him. It brings on tides of grief and guilt so strong I can't stand in the current. How could we have failed him so hard? What should I have done differently?

There is so much anger in me. I am mad at all of you. You normal people who talk of exotic trips and visits to the mall. I loathe your normal, boring existence. I hope for the day when we trade places so that you can understand my pain. Nobody understands unless they too have experienced the agony of chronic life threatening illness. Nobody knows what it's like unless they have seen a parent stare off in absent suffering. 

Nobody knows.

I turned up the heavy metal and I cursed God. I cursed his son, too. I am angry at them for allowing this grotesque catastrophe to happen to my family.

2 comments:

  1. Thanks for writing this. Anger is powerful and can be overwhelming if not channeled. So prose is very useful in that regard. What I also know personally is that my anger, when projected outwardly, can also leave me feeling very isolated and unsupported.

    I am sorry that you are in such tremendous pain. I hope all those that love and value you will read this.

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