The L Word
Three to Six to Who the Hell Knows

After the Fall

EPSON029 

Thank you.

I...don't really know what to write next, but a formal Internet-wide thank-you note seems appropriate, for all of your lovely and kind comments, emails and tweets. Reading them felt like...well, like an actual physical hug and actual physical arms propping me up. 

Thanking each and every one of you personally would probably be the best thing to do, and a much better use of my time than what I've actually been doing. Which is...not much. A lot of staring into space. Watching cooking shows. Swiffering up our yearly mid-September ant infestation in the foyer because the wipe-out-the-colony-in-a-blaze-of-Jonestown-glory traps aren't working nearly fast enough for my liking. I've made significant progress through the box of Godiva chocolates Jason ran out to fetch me almost immediately after I got the news, but that's only because it fits so well into my established plan of sitting on the couch and staring into space.

EPSON028 
 
The one thing I haven't been able to do yet is cry. Which is a weird feeling for me, because I cry over everything. TV shows, movies, commercials, any YouTube video involving a dog, news stories about the triumph of the human (and/or dog) spirit. But for the past 48 hours or so, I've been a STONE. I doubt evenSteel Magnolias (BUT MAH DAUGHTER CAAAAAN'T) or A Little Princess (PAPA! PAPAAAAA!) would trigger anything more than a snort of derision and a crack about the visible teeth marks all over the scenery. 

A friend of mine called yesterday after reading my post and she immediately burst into the tears that I was unable to shed, but oh, I was so grateful for her call and the sound of her voice. She let me ramble on and on for as long as I needed, though I realized I sounded oddly military in my list of Things That Of Concern: having to explain things to Noah, for one. Ezra's young age and lack of memories. Their house, my mother, hospice care -- all of which I rattled off like logistics from a a spreadsheet before brightly mentioning that Hey! I'm getting ahead of myself. Still need to wait and see what the lab results tell us, right? 

She paused, awkwardly, knowingly, and I suddenly realized what I was saying. Oh. Denial. That. 

EPSON030 
 
But it's true. I managed to write that entire post yesterday without really actually letting the news sink in. Like I would jinx something by talking about the obvious likely outcome. Like tomorrow's call from the lab could still magically make it all go away. Like the next time I Google acute leukemia I'm going to get a completely different set of results, so instead of a prognosis that took his age and health and medical history into account, would look at the comment numbers and Twitter outpouring and be all, "OOPS! NEVER MIND, YOU'RE SPECIAL! YOUR PROGNOSIS IS OVER HERE, BEHIND THE FREE UNICORN."

This probably would have been a good opening for that cry, but instead I just went back to work for awhile before spraying the ants with the can of super-toxic Raid that Jason doesn't know I use when he's not around because I don't think the environmentally-friendly stuff he buys does anything and I FUCKING HATE ANTS SO MUCH.  

EPSON031  

So then I decided to scan more of the old photos my mom sent me a few weeks ago. In preparation for the Move That Was Supposed To Solve Everything, she's probably spent a hundred hours over the last few months meticulously sorting through hundreds of photos, so all seven of us could receive gallon-sized Ziploc bags' worth of orange-y memories. Scanning them seemed like a nice mindless activity. Load photo. Hit button. Stare blankly at wall. Occasionally push tongue back into slack-jawed mouth. Repeat. 

The latest batch are particularly hilarious -- ripe for cautionary photo essays about Jams shorts and tube socks and decade-long awkward phases -- but of course I had to start with the photos of my dad. Most of which were taken with the exotic touristy background locale in mind, so he and I are blurry squinty-eyed figures standing way too far away from the camera. 

EPSON032 

I plucked out a few that seemed to reflect my mind's memory of him -- sunglasses and a baseball cap when I was really little, then years and years of various plaid ivy caps, coats with patches on the elbows like every good high school English teacher, church clothes every Sunday. Sitting in his chair, or posing at Easter in front of the forsythias he planted so my mother wouldn't have to look at our neighbors giant RV from her beloved screened-in porch out back. 

EPSON033  

I have better photos of him, of course. Gorgeous ones from my wedding day, as I pin his corsage on in my parents' downsized townhouse living room and he escorts me down the aisle at a church they attended by I did not, anymore, at that time. And more recent ones with our digital cameras that include him and the boys, photos I could immediately check for closed eyes and bad lighting. I have photos from hospital rooms where we still made jokes and treated it like no big thing, here, hold Ezra and make a funny face for the camera. Photos of him at home, with his oxygen, lying down but smiling anyway. 

I'm glad to have those photos, particularly for Noah and Ezra's sake. Ever since they were born, I've been particularly careful to take photos of them with their grandfather, because I knew. I have been walking this path of a kind of...knowing denial for years now. It's coming. Don't panic, but carry a towel. Just in case. 

Right now, though, I admit I prefer the old pictures, from before I knew. 

EPSON034

I never want to forget the before. 

Comments

Amalah

(Wondering where the hell your comment went? Yeah. My bad. Typepad iPhone app snafu. Accidentally deleted this WHOLE POST and had to republish it. Happy I still had the text open on my computer, but so very very sad that 100+ wonderful comments are lost to the great recycle bin in the sky.)

Heather/Cobblestone

I too have been to Old Tuscon and my in-laws had that chair for entirely too long.

Still crushed thinking of the sadness you must be looking at but with a quick dose of "HEY! I am SOOOO the same age as Amalah and that increases my cool by 10%"

Kristin J

I really love all these great pictures of you and your Dad. I don't think you sound like you are in denial. It just sounds like you are processing this at your own speed which is totally normal. Please don't worry about not crying, that too is very normal. I'm sending you lots of hugs, thoughts and prayers!!

Sara

Daddys girl! Oh sweetheart I'm so very sorry. Denial is part of the path to acceptance. Perhaps it won't be as terrible as thought. Not to be the weirdo but perhaps some of the treatments found here: www.cancertutor.com would help. I know of several people who succeeded in increasing quality of life with several of these treatments.

Roberta

Saw your tweet about the comment disaster. Here's a repeat of mine from yesterday. Plus some. *Sniffle* Love these. When I think of my dad, my clearest memories look a lot like these photos, that before-12 age, when things are just...simpler. Revel. Wallow. Do what you need to.

Emma

I'm crying for you Amalah...I've never met you, but my heart is still breaking for you.

drhoctor2

I'm very sorry your family is dealing with such a hard and hurtful diagnosis. You have such a good relationship with your Dad. You will never forget the before.

Amber

Such a beautiful post - I'm getting all weepy here just reading it, and looking at hese photos: I still can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, Amy, but I'm thinking of you, and hoping that being able to write it all down here will help in some way.

Amber

Such a beautiful post - I'm getting all weepy here just reading it, and looking at hese photos: I still can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, Amy, but I'm thinking of you, and hoping that being able to write it all down here will help in some way.

S

This handful of photos indicates that you have a wealth of beautiful memories of your dad. Just the fact that he planted those flowers to make your mom's view from the porch nicer tells me he's an awesome guy. I'm so sorry for all his health issues and the diagnosis. Be gentle with yourself in the days, weeks, months ahead.

Leah

I've been thinking about you since I read the post about your dad - I'm so sorry. Cancer sucks.

If there's anything you need from a stranger in Charleston, SC, don't hesitate to ask. Just sayin'.

Leah

I've been thinking about you since I read the post about your dad - I'm so sorry. Cancer sucks.

If there's anything you need from a stranger in Charleston, SC, don't hesitate to ask. Just sayin'.

Leah

I've been thinking about you since I read the post about your dad - I'm so sorry. Cancer sucks.

If there's anything you need from a stranger in Charleston, SC, don't hesitate to ask. Just sayin'.

SarahC

I, too, saw you lost your comments. We'll just have to refill the section so you can know how many friends you have out here!

I remember my earlier comment(probably verbatim, because I am weird like that):

I am coming out of the woodwork to give you an internet-hug. I have been reading your work for about two months now. As trite as it may sound, your blog helped me through a really tough time. I thought about it, but never commented before because I didn't know what to say (probably because your blog, your little internet world, meant so much to me).

I still don't know what to say, except: I'm so sorry. You are not alone. There are many people - real and virtual - that care a lot about you and your family. Sending love and hope your way...

Really, it is amazing how small the world feels in the blogosphere... I wish I could be there in person - to give you a hug, or to just bring some vodka over, because damn!

Jenn

As someone whose father lost his battle with cancer eight years ago, I can empathize with what you're feeling. Or not feeling. It's fine. It's not denial. Cancer is a lot to take in, all at once. So it's better to plan things. Nothing specific. Just things. Go ahead. Plan. Make the lists. There's comfort in planning and taking control over something - ANYTHING - at a time when everything has just spun out of control.

And when you're ready to - cry. As long, as loud and as hard as you need to. We'll all be here to help pick up the pieces.

I wish I could hug you right now. I really do. Know you & yours are in my thoughts and prayers.

Lesley

I was at my parents' the last few days and you and your dad were on my mind the whole time. I don't have much to offer you except for heartfelt sympathy at the situation as a whole. And to let you know that all of us, your readers (both those who comment and those who lurk) are standing firmly behind you and the rest of your family while you go through this. We're here to support you, to listen to whatever you need to get off your chest and see you through to the other side of this, whatever that may be. And don't worry - we're a chatty bunch; we'll repost our comments as many times as necessary.

Christina

You've put into words exactly how I've been feeling about my own dad. I have 3 friends who have lost their dads this year and my dad is 82 and lives 3 states away and... It's just hard knowing the inevitable is out there waiting to show up at your door.
I'm so glad you can share these memories with him, with your boys and even with us. Were all here for you, and even if I don't know you, it feels like I do in a weird Internet-ty non-stalkerish way I swear.

fixermamma

I'm so very sorry. I walked that road last winter, lost my mom in march, and i can tell you, make every second count now. make more memories. tell him what you want to tell him.

Britt

On the earlier (pre recycle) comments, someone took the words out of my fingers saying we'd supply the tears till you were ready. Still true.

Please be easy on yourself regardless of how you feel you could be doing better as a parent-wife-child-blogger-advicemaven-awesomelady, okay?

Hugs.

Wallydraigle

I wouldn't call it denial. Different people process things like this differently. When I found out my grandpa had cancer (he lived with us, and we were very close), I went all numb for several hours. Then I called my brand new boyfriend (now husband) on the phone and sobbed unintelligibly at him for an hour. Even then, I was always hoping he'd have a miraculous recovery.

I'm so sorry you're facing this. I imagine getting news like this about my own dad, and I just want to cry. You have no idea who I am, but my heart goes out to you. I hope you and your family can take comfort in all these internet strangers who are thinking about and prayer for you.

bethany actually

Reposting my comment for you, or something close to what my comment was:

If you can't cry yet, it's okay, because the internet is crying for you. And when you're ready to cry, we'll be here with tissues and ice cream.

xo

Jessie

Amy, I admit to be an obsessive reader of your blog and a lazy person who rarely comments, but I wanted to let you know you're in my thoughts. We're going through something similar with my grandpa, who I've lived far too far from my whole life and have thus missed terribly for most of my life, and I am certainly sorry to hear that you and your beautiful family is going through this. So even though you don't know me, know that I'm thinking of you.

Amanda

I'm so sorry. It's damn hard to find out. It's damn hard to know. It's damn hard to accept.

I don't actually have a dad. My sperm donor (aka biological father) was never really in my life and my step-day, who I consider my father, kinda bailed on my life when he bailed on his marriage to my mom. I always wanted to be a daddy's girl. That's why I love seeing my daughter's devotion to her daddy.

Pleas know how lucky you are to have the bond you do with your dad... and to have him as long as you do. Cherish it... and keep it in your heart.

Thoughts to you.

a.

Amanda

I'm so sorry. It's damn hard to find out. It's damn hard to know. It's damn hard to accept.

I don't actually have a dad. My sperm donor (aka biological father) was never really in my life and my step-day, who I consider my father, kinda bailed on my life when he bailed on his marriage to my mom. I always wanted to be a daddy's girl. That's why I love seeing my daughter's devotion to her daddy.

Pleas know how lucky you are to have the bond you do with your dad... and to have him as long as you do. Cherish it... and keep it in your heart.

Thoughts to you.

a.

Loren

That last photo is one of the most beautiful moments I've ever seen. Still more prayers being lifted up for you and your family, and thanks are being given for the gift of your dad in your life!

Loren

That last photo is one of the most beautiful moments I've ever seen. Still more prayers being lifted up for you and your family, and thanks are being given for the gift of your dad in your life!

Patty

I'm coming out of lurk mode to give you a hug as well. We recently lost my Mother In Law (who was THE BEST EVAR!) to Internal Melanoma. It was a very short 7 months...

Hang in there, and my advice is to just let your boys make your dad happy. Sometimes that's the best medicine for everyone. (((((HUGS)))))

lisa

I am reposting my comment too. Amy we all love you and your family in a ( totally non internet crazy person way). My heart goes out to you and like previous commenters have already mentioned we will supply the tears right now for you. I am also willing to supply wine just give me an address. HUGS!!

lisa

I am reposting my comment too. Amy we all love you and your family in a ( totally non internet crazy person way). My heart goes out to you and like previous commenters have already mentioned we will supply the tears right now for you. I am also willing to supply wine just give me an address. HUGS!!

lisa

I am reposting my comment too. Amy we all love you and your family in a ( totally non internet crazy person way). My heart goes out to you and like previous commenters have already mentioned we will supply the tears right now for you. I am also willing to supply wine just give me an address. HUGS!!

lisa

I am reposting my comment too. Amy we all love you and your family in a ( totally non internet crazy person way). My heart goes out to you and like previous commenters have already mentioned we will supply the tears right now for you. I am also willing to supply wine just give me an address. HUGS!!

Susan H.

Amy, my dad passed away 4 weeks ago, from colon cancer. I was in the same boat as you, right up until the end--total denial. He had been through so many medical procedures but he always pulled through and came home. It was impossible to believe that this was the last time he would enter the hospital, and that he *wouldn't* be coming home. It is still hard to accept. I know, intellectually, that he was ready to go, he needed to go because he was in such pain and he was tired of suffering. But I don't think you are ever, ever ready to lose a parent. You are blessed to have shared many wonderful memories with him and that it what will comfort you.

Sara

Your beautiful post made me shed tears, so let your readers do your crying for you ... until you are ready. I hope your family can find some peace and have some smiles in the midst of such a trying time in your lives. You have a wondeful amount of love to hold you up during the bad times!

Katie Kat

So beautiful Amy. And trust me, you WON'T forget the before. In fact, you will forget this sadness, this lost feeling - all the trials and tribulations, and eventually you will ONLY remember the before and all the love and wonderful times. I promise. We all love you to pieces!!!!!

Zak

Fantastic pictures. Love to your dad, he seems like a real cool cat.

Zak

Fantastic pictures. Love to your dad, he seems like a real cool cat.

Kim

I'm so sorry. The fact that you're making plans and thinking about hospice is hard but you'll be thankful later that everything is set up. I'm a huge hospice fan. And hey, even if you do have some moments of denial there's not a damn thing wrong with that. Denial keeps you sane when you just can't face reality in the worst moments. I read the best book about what to expect with end stage cancer when my mom was dying of lung cancer. It's called Final Journeys by Maggie Callanan. It really prepared me for the physical things my mom would be experiencing and since I knew what was coming I wasn't so freaked when it happened. Hopefully you wont need a book like that, but if you do, I hope it brings you the peace it brought me. Best wishes to your family. You're in my thoughts

K

I'm dreading the day I get similar news, and crying here at my desk at work. I'm sorry, A. Sending a virtual hug your way.

Lisa

Oh Amalah, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. My father has Alzheimer's and it has moved so quickly, too quickly and I so understand what you mean about not crying and I'm glad it's not just me. It's like you can talk about what's going on without really thinking about it, because if you really, truly thought about it? Well. We both know the tears will come. Please know you're not alone and that so many are thinking of you. You don't realize how fast the time went until you arrive at this point and (like everyone else who goes this) you wonder where the time went. Love to you and yours.

Life of a Doctor's Wife

I saw you lost your comments - reposting to say that I love this post, and I'm thinking of your family.

Thank you for sharing the photos - they are lovely.

Avitable

Thanks to photos like those, he'll always be there in some way. Keeping your family in my thoughts.

Avitable

Thanks to photos like those, he'll always be there in some way. Keeping your family in my thoughts.

Avitable

Thanks to photos like those, he'll always be there in some way. Keeping your family in my thoughts.

Avitable

A sentiment so good I had to say it three times! Fuck I'm an idiot.

Erin Burt

I have learned to fear the times when I feel like I should be crying but I can't. You feel heartless and wooden, but it's only your head protecting your heart. The tears will come and they tend to make up for the lost time.

Jen

So, so sorry! You and your family will be in my thoughts.

R

You're in my thoughts. Thank you for sharing the beautiful pictures.

Erin

That last photo is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing your heart with us. You are not alone. You are so loved.

...BeccaLynn

Fuck Cancer. There's a time in our lives where we think that our fathers will always be there.
Then, there's the day when we realize they won't.

I'm sorry. There's a heartache there that nothing will ever fix. I'm so, so sorry.

Kristin

Cancer FUCKING sucks! I Am so sorry your dad is going through this but I'm so very glad you have the pictures and the memories.

Monique

My heart is breaking for you, Amy. Sending you lots of love.

vodkamom

I was 19 when I lost my father. Sometimes, he comes to visit me in my dreams.
I am thinking of you. And sending you love.

vodkamom

I was 19 when I lost my father. Sometimes, he comes to visit me in my dreams.
I am thinking of you. And sending you love.

vodkamom

I was 19 when I lost my father. Sometimes, he comes to visit me in my dreams.
I am thinking of you. And sending you love.

spinderella

Thinking of you. It's a horrible shock to the system and a struggle to accept. I hope that you are able to be with your family and make more memories soon.

Liana

Just adding my arms to that hug from le internets...I hope...well, I hope for what you hope.
I am pulling for your dad, whatever way that is needed, as always.

Those old photos are so sweet.

(Also, I really really hate ants, too.)

((((HUGS))))

Momnivore's Dilemma

I lost my dad three years ago. I feel ya. The diagnosis was harder than when he actually passed. Spend time. Take care of your mom as well.

Much love.

NTE

Since I just saved to my computer a surreptitiously snuck cell phone photo of my grandmother asleep in her new bed at the rehabilitation center, this post struck very close to home. I don't know how to be prepared, but I'm doing my best. I know you are too, and I know - with all my heart - that you won't forget the before. Ever.

NTE

Since I just saved to my computer a surreptitiously snuck cell phone photo of my grandmother asleep in her new bed at the rehabilitation center, this post struck very close to home. I don't know how to be prepared, but I'm doing my best. I know you are too, and I know - with all my heart - that you won't forget the before. Ever.

Tim

Hi,
M so sorry, you and your family will always be in our thoughts. I love all the pics you have shared here.

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chiquita

So sorry. Hang in there. Just be gentle with yourself.

kris

reposting to just say - I am sorry your Dad has to go thorough this. And you and your family. (And just retyping this is making me teary.)

The crying will come when you need it to come. Sometimes we need it not to come so we can just push on and get done what needs to get done. Prayers to you and yours.

Plano Mom

All I said was you didn't have to cry because I would do it for you. You won't forget. I promise. My Dad's been gone from my life longer than he's was in it, and I still remember. Like yesterday.

Karen

My father died of cancer while I was in college and it was a terrible thing for our family to go through. As sad as it is for us kids, it's 100X worse for the spouse left so behind please please please make sure to keep an eye on your mom. My mother became extremely depressed after my dad passed away, to the point of near suicide. I'm so glad your dad got the chance to play with his grandkids. We just had a baby girl and I'm missing him more than ever.

Aka Alice

Also taking a moment to delurk and tell you how very sorry I am.

Hate cancer. Really, really, hate.

Take care of yourself.

MommyNamedApril

oh, amy. i'm so sorry, i just caught up on your posts from the last week. xo and hugs.

Kyla

I am incredibly sorry you are having to go through all of this. As much as I understand that everyone has to go through some version of this at some point in their lives, it just seems to unfair...every single time.

Page

I'm thinking of you, smiling at your beautiful photos, and I'm so sorry for what you are going through. My dad is being treated for prostate cancer after a radical prostatectomy, and will not tell any of us his prognosis. I wait with my towel and cherish every note, call, photo and memory, hoping blindly that this sucky cancer won't take him yet.

HUGS. Be kind to yourself.

BarbG

Hi Amy, the last photo did me in, but you are so very strong and your parents are lucky to have you. Your humor and ability to express yourself will get you through this, especially when people start saying well-meaning things that will come out as some of the most ridiculous shit you'll ever hear. Those future Amalah posts will be legendary -- we will laugh and cry together-- you rock!

Carole

http://www.letsfcancer.com/home.html

If you haven't seen this web site, I promise you, you will not be offended. Go sound off!

Julie

Holding you close in my heart. I got the dreaded call last week, and lost my dad 3 days later. Long, hideous battle with lung cancer. Wishing the very best outcome for all of you.

Laurie

((((HUGS)))) and thank you for sharing your daddy with us.

Heather

Delurking to say I'm so sorry. I just returned from my aunt's memorial service. She was a second mom to me. She died after a 2 year battle w/ pancreatic cancer. I found it odd that I hardly cried at her service but I think there was so much crying done before hand and I just was happy living in the "before the diagnosis land". I hope for the best for your family~

Heather

Delurking to say I'm so sorry. I just returned from my aunt's memorial service. She was a second mom to me. She died after a 2 year battle w/ pancreatic cancer. I found it odd that I hardly cried at her service but I think there was so much crying done before hand and I just was happy living in the "before the diagnosis land". I hope for the best for your family~

Thoughts Appear

The last picture of you and your Dad is wonderful.

My thoughts are with you and your family.

Thoughts Appear

The last picture of you and your Dad is wonderful.

My thoughts are with you and your family.

sheilah

I don't remember my comment (some inane thought about I'm sorry and all) but I am again sniffling at that last picture of you & your dad. I was a daddy's girl too and miss him terribly, even after 20 years.

Trust me, you won't ever forget the 'before'.

Sara

My mom died ten years ago from leukemia. My heart is aching for you and your family right now... I'm sick SICK of people having to go through this..it's hard to imagine this but try to relish what time you have left - as painful as it is, they will eventually become comforting memories. And take tons of pictures...my mom never got to meet my son..xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anon

Hi Amy, I just wanted to send you and your family lots of best wishes (words seem inadequate, esp. via internet to someone you've never met, but don't think that means they don't come with any emotion).
Life sucks, no two ways. My own father ran off 30 yrs ago, so I'm particularly moved by your father-daughter photos. It looks like you have some wonderful memories of a loving Dad; I hope you can hold on to those at this time because they really are, and will be precious in the years to come.

Katie

I cried one time when my mom was sick. I knew she was going to die and all I could do was feel numb. Deal with what's happening however you can. There is no right or wrong way. This is a terrible situation and I'm really sorry that you're going through it.

tasterspoon

I don't know whether this is helpful or not, but my grandfather passed away when I was about five years old - and we lived overseas so I hadn't even seen him very frequently - annually at best. But although it's true I don't have distinct memories of things he said or did, I have a very vivid composite memory of him. He was sweet and quiet and patient - I'm flooded with warm feelings and tears when I think about him now. I trust your kids will have that too.

jenG

Fucking cancer.

Lung cancer got my mom in 2008. It wasn't a surprise. It sucked. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I didn't. Two years out, sometimes I still cry, and sometimes I don't need to.

I was a little militaristic, too. That was my role--getting shit done and cracking people up. It's possible that the people who stood in my way caught the brunt of the anger I couldn't direct at the actual cancer...

It'll come in waves, and it'll take time. Be gentle with yourself.

My thoughts are with you and your family...

Marjorie

I am so so sorry. My father just went through a bout of colon cancer, and while everything is good now, I know not-so-good news will happen too, as he is in his late 70's. I too, try to take as many pictures of my kids w/him so that they will have the memories aided by the pictures. I am sending you a hug and the tears I've got for you now, after seeing the lovely pictures of you and your dad.

Sheryl

Amy, take all the time you need. We love you and your writing and your fantastic family.
We'll be here waiting to read with you when you're ready to write.
Your Dad and family are in my prayers.

hermia

I have an "older" dad, too. We've had a few scares over the years, but so far, so good. I will be thinking of you every day, as I think of my dad every day and am grateful he is still here. I know that when the future is uncertain it feels so good to remember the before. One of my childhood memories is spending the day with my dad in Old Tucson!

Stephanie

Amy, I hope you are ok. Thinking about you...your dad...your mom and family. I really hope you are all ok. I'm so sorry.

Melissa F.

I can't even pretend to know what you are going through. Know that we'll keep your family in our thoughts are prayers. So Sorry.

Melissa F.

I can't even pretend to know what you are going through. Know that we'll keep your family in our thoughts are prayers. So Sorry.

Melissa F.

I can't even pretend to know what you are going through. Know that we'll keep your family in our thoughts are prayers. So Sorry.

Monica

From someone who has lost both her parents to cancer, I can whole heartedly agree with every word that you typed on the page. If there ever was an experience where I wanted a time machine, the times when my parents were sick were it. Watching them deal with the disease,and then watching them slip away, were undoubtedly the experiences that affected my life the most. Having to hold your parents hand while they slip away is a moving experience in many ways. The words won't do any good now, but months or years from now when time has passed, you will begin to think of them again with a smile, then a laugh. It's been 12 years since I lost my dad and 2 years since I lost my mom and there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of them. But now, it is with a smile and a warm feeling in my heart, not a tear and anxiety that were there when I was experiencing it all. To know that they are no longer suffering is the peace that is brought to me.

Stephanie

Hi Amy -

Just wanted to check in and say that I'm thinking of you and your family, and hoping that you're doing okay.

Hugs.

Stephanie

Hi Amy -

Just wanted to check in and say that I'm thinking of you and your family, and hoping that you're doing okay.

Hugs.

MommiePie

Just reposting to say that I think it is so cool that even with 6 or 7 siblings, you have so many pictures of just you and your Daddy. For your personal memories of your time with him. I think that it's really special.

Annie

Amy, so sorry to hear about your dad's health. These are beautiful pictures, and even though I'm an internet stranger...you and your family are in my thoughts.

Janice

::huge hug:: I am sad and so sorry that you are having to deal with this. Take comfort in the fact that you will never forget the "before", and living or not your father will always be in your heart as you want him to be.

greg

first comment ever from me. seems like the right time. long time lurker and admirer of your tenacious and scrappy spirit. one of what is likley a small handful of dudes who follow your blog and assorted offshoots.

i have come to believe in your determination through the way you fight so hard to get noah any type of treatment that might help. you are a pitbull on that particular area of your life and i admire you greatly for it.

you may feel it's normal for a mother (and we can't leave jason out - he counts too) to be this devoted to enable noah to have great future potential. i assure you that this is not the case.

with your son, the successes are measured in inches and progress measured in months and years. so far you have demonstrated tenacity and persistence beyond what most are capable of. this is a rare and wonderful thing.

today you have a different kind of load to carry around. i am very sorry for your dad and your family and what they are about to go through.

it will be difficult, but reading the comments above gives me the sense that you do not lack support from your online community.

i am low on advice but very high on my belief your inner strength. you downplay it, and maybe even believe you don't possess it. you are wrong.

it is clear from your writing that you are someone i would choose to be in my corner when the "chips are down."

things are about to become more exhausting physically, spiritually (if that is part of your world) and emotionally.

my belief is that you are tough enough to handle it.

some days, maybe not. those days you spend in bed or looking at pictures and just being sad. perfectly fine. good medicine even.

most of the time you will rock and kick ass, take names, take charge, like usual.

i had "front row tickets" to see my step-father waste away to almost nothing over 6 short months. i will never forget it, it was truly horrible to watch someone go through that. he refused to go to hospice and died at home. had he gone to hospice his discomfort would have been managed better, he just really wanted to die in his own house.

what i learned from that experience (much after the fact) was that i wouldn't change a thing.

i had some of the best experiences of my life with him in those few months because we made an effort to do a bit more livin' before he started to do a bit more dyin'

Peachy

Just... ::hugs::

jerry

You and your Dad are in my prayers.

jerry

You and your Dad are in my prayers.

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