Dad's doctor appointment is Monday. He doesn't like talking about his health or cancer or how he's feeling or what he's thinking. He's never liked talking about that stuff. He's never liked talking much. I do wonder how much he thinks about what's going on. Or if he's scared. We know he's frustrated by not being able to breathe and his incisions hurt still after almost a year.

I hate this. I don't imagine I'd like it no matter when the scenario happens. You have this vague idea how life's supposed to be and then the path veers off into a completely different direction (kind of like the first time Dad tried to teach me to drive a stick shift car.) I won't like it for any member of my family. It's hard and for some reason, even though I tell myself to live in the moment, I can't help in the quiet moments to play out in my head "THE CALL". That's so terrible. I've come to treasure conversations more...moments more. Will I remember them?

A part of me was going to start making a video - However I just can't seem to do it. It plays in my head...in the silence of my apartment I can hear it's soundtrack and when I close my eyes, I see each frame. The poetry is there too at the tip of my fingertips. But the words just don't reach the page. Love shouldn't hold me back, but I think that might be exactly it.